I haven't posted much in a while, and had the urge to share some thoughts about a recent trip I made to South Florida. As a huge sports fan, one of the things I try and do every time I go to a new city is to visit the football or baseball stadium of the respective team(s) that play there. I find that an IN PERSON visit often changes the way you perceive a city, a team, its fans, and the stadium.
As of July 2004, I've now made it to the following stadiums: Cotton Bowl, Texas Stadium, Arlington Stadium, Ballpark at Arlington, Astrodome, Enron Field, Superdome, Tennessee Titans Stadium, RFK Stadium, Redskins Stadium, Camden Yards, Memorial Stadium (Baltimore), Veterans Stadium, Eagles Stadium, Giants Stadium, Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium, Three Rivers Stadium, Steelers Stadium, Priates Stadium, Busch Stadium, Arrowhead Stadium, Royals Stadium, Mile High Stadium, Coord Field, Sun Devil Stadium, LA Memorial Colusium, Dodger Stadium, San Diego Stadium, Kingdome, Atlanta Stadium, Georgia Dome, Buffalo Rich Stadium, Oakland Colusium, Indianaapolis Colts Stadium, Candlestick Park.
One of the most glaring ommissions on the list of stadiums is Miami's famous Orange Bowl. I have probably watched 500-600 games on television from the Orange Bowl, the former home of the Dolphins and currrent home of the Hurricanes.
I remember the 1972 Dolphins who used to play on that horrid surface called "poly turf." I remember countless college football national title games played here on New Year's Day. A dozen Super Bowls. Think of all the great Dolphins who have played games at the Orange Bowl. It's certainly a big part of football history.
So, as I said -- some people go to museums, others go to the beach, but I go to sports stadiums. I had heard the Orange Bowl was in a "bad" area of town -- which is quite common for most of the older stadiums built in the first half of the century. My visit took place on a Tuesday morning about 11 am.
The first thing about the Orange Bowl that is unmistakable -- is that it's very difficult to find. I didn't have a road map, but figured it would be easy to spot because of it's massive size and that there are usually route signs off surrounding Interstates. Not in Miami.
I drive south on I-95 and come into the city of Miami for the first time. The air qaulity is horrid, enough to make one yearn for the smog inferno that is Riverside/San Bernadino (the worst air I have ever seen -- and I do mean SEEN!). In fairness to Maimi, there was a fire burning that morning somewhere clsoeby, so that made the air miserable.
The weather is probably the worst I've ever encountered in my life on planet earth. I've gotten used to the dry heat and low humidity of Las Vegas. Landing in South Florida in middle of July is like stepping into a steam bath. It's tough to breath. Forget wearing a jacket -- this is flip flip, t-shirt, and shorts, and three cold showers a day weather. Maybe it's me, but the stiffling humidity makes everything seem dirty. The bad air doesn't help.
So anyway, I get off I-95 and make several wrong turns. I'm in front of the arenas where the Heat play, which is between the ocean and I-95. En route, I saw the sign that said "stadium" and made some mistaken assumptions. Good thing is -- in Miami, you really can't get lost. There is only so far you can drive without falling the in ocean. So, it's pretty easy to get around if you know where you are going.
Problem is -- I don't.
Traffic is bad on this day, but off the Interstate in the bowels of the ubran squaler that is Miami, it's easy to get around on the side streets. I ask two people where the Orange Bowl is -- and get blank stares. Wrong language. Spanish is the native language here. I've seen two billboards for Columbian Independence Day, several Latin festivals, and so forth. Not too many American flag -- in fact, none. Next I find a Black man at a stop light. Again, I ask where the Orange Bowl is located, doing my best to play the role of the niave fool and dong a very convincing job of it. The man isn't Black, but Carribean. Fortunately, he speaks English and points me off the in the East direction. After he tells me to turn left, then right, then another left and a right, I'm confused, wave him off, and say thanks. At least I am headed in the right direction now. I think.
I proceed to go West, and cross a drawbridge. One doesn't expect canals and ships channels through Miami city -- I mean away from the sea. This sure isn't the scene they show on Miami Vice with the crystal blue waters and pristine white towers. Hey. where's South Beach? Why does Sly live? I'm stunned to see some mid-level condos in what most would consider to be a marginal area -- going for $300,000 and up! They got to f-ing be kidding me. I cross a few side streets and the area gets worse. Much worse. Chickens running through unkept yards. Naked kids. Skinny dogs. You get the picture.
Ghettos are sad places. Many of the people who live in them are trapped and desire to make a better life. Perhaps it's not fair to cast a disparaging net over the entire commmunity when there are many trying to change it. The fact is, this is a very rough and dangerous area. I certainly would not want to walk these streets at night.
As I am driving straight West, I see the light towers of an object. I then see the large fascade of a stadium coming into focus. Could it be? It is -- MIAMI'S ORANGE BOWL!
The first thing that strikes you about the Orange Bowl is that there is practically no parking here! How in the hell do 80,000 fans park in this area? Traffic must be a nightmare on game day. Only worse traffic situation I've seen for a stadium is Buffalo. This might be the worst, although I haven't been to a game here, so really can't say.
I am lucky. The gates are open. It seems they are filming a TV commerical on this day and there are extras in the stands. So, I can walk right in and do my touristy thing, without being bothered by those 7-buck-an hour renta-cops with beer bellies.
When I walk up the ramp to the seats, through a latticework of rusted iron and discolored cement, I am about to enter sacred territory. Here it is -- the place where the Jets upset the Colts in the 1969 Super Bowl, where the 1972 Dolphins went undefeated, where my (former) beloved Cowboys lost two Super Bowls in the 1970s, where the greatest NFL game of all time was played (Chargers/Dolphins playoff game), where Dan Marino played over half his career, where the Hurricanes won national championships, where Don Shula did his magic, and where the Orange Bowl game takes palce every year.
I exit onto the concourse and see that stadium in all of its faded former glory, and think of the scenes from my past, burned into memory. I see the spot where Lynn Swan made the tip toe catches of Super Bowl X. I see the spot where Dallas' Bob Lilly threw his helmet 50 yards right after Jim OBrien kicked the winning field goal for the Colts in 1971 (that was my first sports gambling loss -- I lost a buck on the game). I see the tunnel where Joe Namath raised his finger, saying we're Number One after stunning the football world. Plays from years past come back to me. Here's where they all happened.
Then, I see them. They are off behind the east end zone.
THE PALM TREES.
If the Orange Bowl is famous for anything, it's those tall majestic pine trees that tower over the field near the back of the goal line. They are such an incredible site, showing everyone watching on TV sets all around that country that is game is IN MIAMI.
The trees look they could use some loving care, just like this old iron relic of a stadium that has its best years behind it. The stadium appers to be an awful pace to watch a game in terms of comfort (sweaty crowds, no parking, bad facilities, and get this BACKLESS BENCH STYLE SEATS). Sitting in those seats for three hours would put me into traction. There are a few rows of seats that have been upgraded, but probably 95 percent of all the seats are bench style. That's 78,000 backaches after every Dolphins game.
Another intolerable problem is that the seats up in the second deck are even worse. The upper deck appears to be in a terrible state of disrepair. The upside of the Orange Bowl is that the seats are VERY CLOSE to the field. Fans can hear lots of what is going on down onthe field and the bottom deck really doesn't have a bad seat, in terms of seeing the action. On this day, I watched a mock football game being played by a TV production company. I tried my best to envision Errol Morrall, Bob Greise, Manny Fernandez, and many others down on that field. For a second, I thought I heard cheers.
After an hour, it was time to depart.
Right across the street are rows of single story apartment houses, with kids playing in the streets. Remarkably, there are homes and front yards right across the street from the stadium. I estimate that it's probably 300 yards from the front door of some of these homes to the entrace gate to the actual stadium. Other than places like Boston, New York, and Chicago, I have not seen homes as clsoe to a stadium as here.
To those who live in South Florida, this report will not reveal anything new. But it was a visit that I'm glad I made. I can certainly see why the Dolphins left this stadium for the suburbs. There isn't much left here, but memories. Lots of them.
-- Nolan Dalla
As of July 2004, I've now made it to the following stadiums: Cotton Bowl, Texas Stadium, Arlington Stadium, Ballpark at Arlington, Astrodome, Enron Field, Superdome, Tennessee Titans Stadium, RFK Stadium, Redskins Stadium, Camden Yards, Memorial Stadium (Baltimore), Veterans Stadium, Eagles Stadium, Giants Stadium, Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium, Three Rivers Stadium, Steelers Stadium, Priates Stadium, Busch Stadium, Arrowhead Stadium, Royals Stadium, Mile High Stadium, Coord Field, Sun Devil Stadium, LA Memorial Colusium, Dodger Stadium, San Diego Stadium, Kingdome, Atlanta Stadium, Georgia Dome, Buffalo Rich Stadium, Oakland Colusium, Indianaapolis Colts Stadium, Candlestick Park.
One of the most glaring ommissions on the list of stadiums is Miami's famous Orange Bowl. I have probably watched 500-600 games on television from the Orange Bowl, the former home of the Dolphins and currrent home of the Hurricanes.
I remember the 1972 Dolphins who used to play on that horrid surface called "poly turf." I remember countless college football national title games played here on New Year's Day. A dozen Super Bowls. Think of all the great Dolphins who have played games at the Orange Bowl. It's certainly a big part of football history.
So, as I said -- some people go to museums, others go to the beach, but I go to sports stadiums. I had heard the Orange Bowl was in a "bad" area of town -- which is quite common for most of the older stadiums built in the first half of the century. My visit took place on a Tuesday morning about 11 am.
The first thing about the Orange Bowl that is unmistakable -- is that it's very difficult to find. I didn't have a road map, but figured it would be easy to spot because of it's massive size and that there are usually route signs off surrounding Interstates. Not in Miami.
I drive south on I-95 and come into the city of Miami for the first time. The air qaulity is horrid, enough to make one yearn for the smog inferno that is Riverside/San Bernadino (the worst air I have ever seen -- and I do mean SEEN!). In fairness to Maimi, there was a fire burning that morning somewhere clsoeby, so that made the air miserable.
The weather is probably the worst I've ever encountered in my life on planet earth. I've gotten used to the dry heat and low humidity of Las Vegas. Landing in South Florida in middle of July is like stepping into a steam bath. It's tough to breath. Forget wearing a jacket -- this is flip flip, t-shirt, and shorts, and three cold showers a day weather. Maybe it's me, but the stiffling humidity makes everything seem dirty. The bad air doesn't help.
So anyway, I get off I-95 and make several wrong turns. I'm in front of the arenas where the Heat play, which is between the ocean and I-95. En route, I saw the sign that said "stadium" and made some mistaken assumptions. Good thing is -- in Miami, you really can't get lost. There is only so far you can drive without falling the in ocean. So, it's pretty easy to get around if you know where you are going.
Problem is -- I don't.
Traffic is bad on this day, but off the Interstate in the bowels of the ubran squaler that is Miami, it's easy to get around on the side streets. I ask two people where the Orange Bowl is -- and get blank stares. Wrong language. Spanish is the native language here. I've seen two billboards for Columbian Independence Day, several Latin festivals, and so forth. Not too many American flag -- in fact, none. Next I find a Black man at a stop light. Again, I ask where the Orange Bowl is located, doing my best to play the role of the niave fool and dong a very convincing job of it. The man isn't Black, but Carribean. Fortunately, he speaks English and points me off the in the East direction. After he tells me to turn left, then right, then another left and a right, I'm confused, wave him off, and say thanks. At least I am headed in the right direction now. I think.
I proceed to go West, and cross a drawbridge. One doesn't expect canals and ships channels through Miami city -- I mean away from the sea. This sure isn't the scene they show on Miami Vice with the crystal blue waters and pristine white towers. Hey. where's South Beach? Why does Sly live? I'm stunned to see some mid-level condos in what most would consider to be a marginal area -- going for $300,000 and up! They got to f-ing be kidding me. I cross a few side streets and the area gets worse. Much worse. Chickens running through unkept yards. Naked kids. Skinny dogs. You get the picture.
Ghettos are sad places. Many of the people who live in them are trapped and desire to make a better life. Perhaps it's not fair to cast a disparaging net over the entire commmunity when there are many trying to change it. The fact is, this is a very rough and dangerous area. I certainly would not want to walk these streets at night.
As I am driving straight West, I see the light towers of an object. I then see the large fascade of a stadium coming into focus. Could it be? It is -- MIAMI'S ORANGE BOWL!
The first thing that strikes you about the Orange Bowl is that there is practically no parking here! How in the hell do 80,000 fans park in this area? Traffic must be a nightmare on game day. Only worse traffic situation I've seen for a stadium is Buffalo. This might be the worst, although I haven't been to a game here, so really can't say.
I am lucky. The gates are open. It seems they are filming a TV commerical on this day and there are extras in the stands. So, I can walk right in and do my touristy thing, without being bothered by those 7-buck-an hour renta-cops with beer bellies.
When I walk up the ramp to the seats, through a latticework of rusted iron and discolored cement, I am about to enter sacred territory. Here it is -- the place where the Jets upset the Colts in the 1969 Super Bowl, where the 1972 Dolphins went undefeated, where my (former) beloved Cowboys lost two Super Bowls in the 1970s, where the greatest NFL game of all time was played (Chargers/Dolphins playoff game), where Dan Marino played over half his career, where the Hurricanes won national championships, where Don Shula did his magic, and where the Orange Bowl game takes palce every year.
I exit onto the concourse and see that stadium in all of its faded former glory, and think of the scenes from my past, burned into memory. I see the spot where Lynn Swan made the tip toe catches of Super Bowl X. I see the spot where Dallas' Bob Lilly threw his helmet 50 yards right after Jim OBrien kicked the winning field goal for the Colts in 1971 (that was my first sports gambling loss -- I lost a buck on the game). I see the tunnel where Joe Namath raised his finger, saying we're Number One after stunning the football world. Plays from years past come back to me. Here's where they all happened.
Then, I see them. They are off behind the east end zone.
THE PALM TREES.
If the Orange Bowl is famous for anything, it's those tall majestic pine trees that tower over the field near the back of the goal line. They are such an incredible site, showing everyone watching on TV sets all around that country that is game is IN MIAMI.
The trees look they could use some loving care, just like this old iron relic of a stadium that has its best years behind it. The stadium appers to be an awful pace to watch a game in terms of comfort (sweaty crowds, no parking, bad facilities, and get this BACKLESS BENCH STYLE SEATS). Sitting in those seats for three hours would put me into traction. There are a few rows of seats that have been upgraded, but probably 95 percent of all the seats are bench style. That's 78,000 backaches after every Dolphins game.
Another intolerable problem is that the seats up in the second deck are even worse. The upper deck appears to be in a terrible state of disrepair. The upside of the Orange Bowl is that the seats are VERY CLOSE to the field. Fans can hear lots of what is going on down onthe field and the bottom deck really doesn't have a bad seat, in terms of seeing the action. On this day, I watched a mock football game being played by a TV production company. I tried my best to envision Errol Morrall, Bob Greise, Manny Fernandez, and many others down on that field. For a second, I thought I heard cheers.
After an hour, it was time to depart.
Right across the street are rows of single story apartment houses, with kids playing in the streets. Remarkably, there are homes and front yards right across the street from the stadium. I estimate that it's probably 300 yards from the front door of some of these homes to the entrace gate to the actual stadium. Other than places like Boston, New York, and Chicago, I have not seen homes as clsoe to a stadium as here.
To those who live in South Florida, this report will not reveal anything new. But it was a visit that I'm glad I made. I can certainly see why the Dolphins left this stadium for the suburbs. There isn't much left here, but memories. Lots of them.
-- Nolan Dalla
