Baseball Baroness’s MLB Stadium Rankings: 26-30
26. Tropicana Field: Tampa Bay Rays
Tropicana Field—once hailed as a marvel of modernity—now languishes in mediocrity. A domed relic that has clearly seen brighter days, it left this author thoroughly unimpressed. For the price of our Field Box seats beside the Rays’ dugout, the experience was astonishingly lackluster. At least the hapless grounds of Oakland had the decency to sweeten the visit with food included. Whilst wandering the concourse, we stumbled upon a most curious discovery: a wooden platform planted squarely in the outfield, more befitting of a dance floor than a diamond. Its purpose remains as mysterious as it was misplaced. In truth, the entire venue cried out for a touch of tender loving care—or perhaps more than a touch. And though we would never endorse the destruction unleashed by Mother Nature, one cannot deny she has presented the franchise with a rare opportunity: to rebuild, to reimagine, and at last to grant the faithful fans of Tampa Bay a home worthy of their devotion.
27. Progressive Field: Cleveland Guardians
Amongst Ohio’s two baseballing darlings, one must, regrettably, take its place at the bottom of the rankings. And the reason, you ask? Why, the fans themselves. Loyalty is admirable, but there is a vast difference between being devoted and being downright deplorable. To stand at the bullpen and hurl vile barbs at opposing pitchers is less spirited enthusiasm and more the behavior of a boor. The field itself does little to redeem matters, presenting all the charm of an oversized patio bar frequented by frat boys who cannot discern when revelry has tipped into excess. Not even the delectable hot honey chicken and fries—divine as they were—could rescue this lamentable experience. Should one’s heart be set on visiting an Ohio club, this writer recommends casting your gaze southward, where the welcome is warmer and the setting more worthy of your time.
28. Minute Maid Park: Houston Astros
Minute Maid Park, much like the team it shelters, is a relic clinging to former glory. Beneath its weary dome lies not a jewel of the modern game but rather a musty house, one in desperate need of either a sweeping remodel or, dare I suggest, a Kris Jenner–style facelift. Even the famed train that creaks along the left-field wall in celebration of home runs appears in want of a physician—its joints groaning as though a dose of cortisol might be the only cure. The fare within? Entirely unremarkable, fit neither for praise nor poetry. But the true scandal reveals itself when the roof is sealed: the air grows stifling, leaving patrons gasping in what can only be described as a suffocating parlor. As for the fans, their devotion cannot be questioned—though some might call it delusion, particularly those who have not forgotten certain notorious indiscretions. Yet, from my vantage point, loyalty alone could not disguise the truth: the upper tiers lay shrouded in shadow, dark and empty as though abandoned. Thus, I declare, this venue is not one worthy of a second visit. Stuffy, weary, and forgotten—it is a house that no longer charms.
29. Dodgers Stadium: Los Angeles Dodgers
One would be remiss not to note that this stadium narrowly avoided a most ignoble three-way tie for last place—though only by the grace of arithmetic. Much like the club it houses, the venue is the very embodiment of stuffy and overrated. Perched precariously in a valley (the hills, not the mountains, of Los Angeles, lest anyone be confused), its entrances offer but two choices: to descend into the outfield at field level or to scale the heights behind home plate. Once inside, the seats prove unforgiving and the fare, tragically, below par—rather like this team’s perennial postseason efforts. If there was a redeeming feature, it was the charming display of each player’s walk-up song upon the jumbotron, sparing patrons the indignity of scrambling for their Shazam app. Alas, such small mercies cannot elevate this field beyond its rightful station. Thus, it languishes at 29th—stuffy, overrated, and deservedly so.
30. Oakland Coliseum: Oakland Athletics
It seems not all diamonds shine, and some ballparks are little more than coal. This humble author has ranked this stadium dead last—and with good reason. When I paid my call in its penultimate year, the atmosphere reeked not of baseball magic but of abandonment. The owners, it appeared, had long since withdrawn their affection, leaving behind a shell in disrepair, a monument to neglect. Though my seat along the Third Base Field Box offered a splendid view of the action (and a lively chat with local devotees), one could not ignore the banners pleading “Sell The Team” nor the barren stalls of concessions and trinkets. Our provisions, included with our seating, were a game of chance—sometimes delayed by hours, sometimes vanished entirely. Thus, it is only fitting this place be consigned to the bottom of the barrel, for its stewards cared little for the fiercely loyal fans who filled its weary stands. Let us hope their new residence in Las Vegas offers a fresh start, though I suspect geography alone cannot mend what neglect has broken.