Comiskey Park 333 West 35th Street, Chicago, IL 60616 Home of the Chicago White Sox

This poor ballpark can't get no respect. Of course, it's primary sins are that it's not A) the old Comiskey, B) its north-side cousin Wrigley, and C) any other ballpark built since. This means that -- by comparison alone -- it always starts at a disadvantage.

But that isn't quite fair. This is a fine place to see a game, a million times better than the Metrodome, in some ways better than some newer parks (less "junk"), and in some ways worse (less "intimate" and "retro").

The shrine to Old Comiskey. Inset: Vic ponders all the classic games played here.

Keep in mind that, had it not been for Camden Yards, there might have been a lot more ballparks built like this one. And that might not have been all bad. All of the amenities are modern, the playing surface is real grass, there's no sharing with another sport, it has a real "home town" feel. There's no food court or amusement park or shopping center or McDonald's or fancy restaurant (only a sports bar area). In other words, this is not a fancy "entertainment complex" but just a ballpark. For that it gets major points.

There is also clearly a great respect here for baseball and the history of the White Sox franchise. Any visit by an out-of-towner must start at the shrine to the old park found just outside the main gates on the north. This exceedingly bumpy parking lot is where old Comiskey used to stand, and you'll find a marble plaque where home plate was, along with batter's boxes and painted foul lines which stretch out to their original distances (one of which is even visible on the aerial photo on MapQuest).

Inside the new park, there's a sense that the history has been transplanted as much as possible. The scoreboard echoes it's predecessor, anyone entering the souvenir shop must first pass through a small but fascinating museum of White Sox history, and there's even a shower installed out beyond the left field seats just like at old Comiskey.

Step inside the gate and you see the field!	The familiar scoreboard.	Vic at the shower.

Discovering the shower was part of a long walk around the entire park on the very wide main concourse. It's a little odd to be walking behind the outfield stands, but the place didn't feel quite so large and foreboding once I discovered you could do this. It's just not possible in most parks. (It would be possible in the wretched Metrodome, but for the iron gates and security guards preventing it.)

	Funny little rows of club seats.

So, what's wrong with this place? Scale, mostly. That is, you don't have to get very far back in the stands to feel really far away from the action. The facing of the luxury suites rises three full stories straight up from the rear of the lower deck, and the upper deck begins right above the top row of suites. This means that even the first row of the upper deck is in serious nosebleed territory. The last row of the upper deck (which I did not visit) must be terrifying with the additional vertigo inspired by the extremely steep incline. I'm guessing that the guy in the blimp feels more a part of the action than those poor last-row folks down the foul lines.

There are quaint little rows of seats protruding from between the two rows of windows on the suites, probably an attempt to minimize the feel of distance, but it doesn't fool anybody. If you're not sitting in the lower deck, you may as well be watching the game on TV.

Viewed from the parking lot behind right field, the park isn't pretty, and you can get a good sense of just how big those signs are.

I'm not sure what engineering issue causes this. Over at Wrigley, the upper deck feels tight with the action. Admittedly, there are some posts sprinkled throughout the park to hold up the upper deck, but it seems a small price to pay. And the designers of old Met Stadium had three layers of cantilevered decks, overlapping, and with no support columns. The front rows of these upper decks felt every bit as close to the action as the lower deck, maybe even a bit closer because the view was so good. Why engineers can't solve this is a mystery to me -- unless they don't understand the issue.

The other major issue is a sense of claustrophobia. These two problems might seem incompatible, but are not. Looming above the outfield stands, connecting the scoreboard to the upper decks on each side, are six huge advertising/message board spaces. I bet they generate a lot of revenue, but the park would be a much greater place without them.

Because they are there, any sense of the city or neighborhood in which the park sits is impossible. I know from looking that there's nothing much exciting beyond that outfield wall, but I'd rather see it than not. The visible buildings are industrial, but really give a sense of the south side of Chicago, and the source of all the White Sox fans.

The outfield should be a place where you can believe that the ball might just sail off into nothingness -- or at least a street, parking lot, even a harbor would be better. Here, a great home run would smack off the front of a humongous clothing chain sign. Not quite right, I'm afraid.

I also think the orientation of this park is all wrong. The line from home through the pitcher's mound runs southeast, contrary to baseball's recommended east-northeast. Old Comiskey ran northeast, and had this park followed the same orientation, portions of the stands would face toward the skyline of Chicago, making the upper deck much more tolerable. Perhaps there is a weather reason for this (lake winds?), but it's not apparent why the choice was made.

Some of the details in this park are quite nice. For one thing, the action is visible from anywhere. Step inside the gates and you can see the field. Go for a snack, you can see the field. Take a walk around the park, you can see the field from all but a few small spots. This park focuses on the game.

Concourse drain detail.

All of the drains along the concourse had little White Sox logos imprinted in the center. Very small, but nice, touch.

Nancy Faust, venerable sports organist, is positioned right along the main concourse, with a large sliding window so that fans may simply pop their heads in and say hi. She is so sweet, and appears to love chatting with people going by.

The concourse out in center allows you to stand and gape upward at the awesome scoreboard from its base. Fireworks still erupt and the pinwheels still turn when Chicago hits a home run.

The best-smelling concession of the season was found at this park. It also turned out to be the very best-tasting: a brat purchased right inside the entry gate behind home plate.

Then again, there were also some small problems. The sound system leaves much to be desired. Sitting out in the front rows near the field meant that the sound was coming from far behind, and was at times nearly inaudible. Only occasionally did I hear the players announced. Of course, the organ and DJ music were plenty loud enough to be heard.

	The door and window into Nancy Faust's booth is right on the main concourse.

The program was huge, more like a yearbook, and cost only $4. But its included scorecard was woefully inadequate, and the rosters for the current series had simply been photocopied and stuck in by hand. The separate scorecard was much nicer, and cost only $1, but was printed on coated paper which made writing with a pencil very difficult. They sold pens, but I make too many mistakes.

Beer vendors were plentiful, but it took seven innings to have a hot dog vendor come by -- even when we sat in the expensive seats. There was the occasional peanut/Cracker Jack vendor, and one fellow with green hair relentlessly hawking "ice cream SAMmiches."

I tripped several times going up the aisles. I think that's because the steps are too short, and too widely spaced. Very weird. I hope the same isn't true in the upper deck, or fans might find a quick route to the hospital after a few beers.

Artificially asymmetrical dimensions don't fool anybody.

The original symmetrical dimensions of the playing field have now been perverted into artificially asymmetrical proportions. This is, of course, a nod to more recent designs, but it smacks of pandering. If your park was built for symmetry, embrace it. This place is symmetrical in many ways, and a symmetrical playing field makes sense here. (Need I point out that Dodger Stadium, one of the all-time greats, is unabashedly symmetrical?) They shouldn't have messed with it.

It took me a game and a half before I figured out where to look for scoring decisions. Turns out there is a little message board out in right-center which flashes commercial messages most of the time, but shows a scoring decision when appropriate. This seems like something that should go on the big board. In addition, there is one lone, tiny pitch-speed indicator out in left, impossible to find quickly, and virtually useless when sitting in the third base stands.

In September, Comiskey can be a chilly place -- like most other outdoor major league parks. You might think that a Minnesotan would long for a roof to keep out the cold, but nothing could have been further from my mind. Baseball is an outdoor game. If it's a little chilly, so what? Even with a temperature in the low 50s, this place beats the heck out of the Twins' home field. Sure, there are flaws, but this is a fine place to enjoy some real baseball.

The park's profile on this day included the giant flag in honor of the attack victims.