Reds stadium about fans, not minivans Sunday, April 26, 1998
It was a good day to be us. At the bottom of Elm Street, a band played, kids romped, celebrities spoke and earth was turned for our future. Because we recognized that a city that stands still is falling behind, our riverfront will get a new face. We will have a football team for another 30 years.
City dangles $20M for Broadway
"We're witnessing a true rebirth," said Hamilton County commissioner Bob Bedinghaus, who deserved the day more than anyone. But it was a lousy day for Broadway Commons, where the Reds flags lining Central Parkway should have been at half-staff. It was another lousy day for the Reds, who should be celebrating a future of their own.
While the forward-thinking Bengals -- forward-thinking Bengals? -- have a plan for tomorrow and a stadium to play it in, the Reds have nothing but an infatuation with a brown river.
Stop the bleeding
There are a million reasons the baseball team should play at Broadway, but only one that matters:
Every day, the Reds bleed a little more. At the gate, in the memory, from the spirit.
I had breakfast with Sparky Anderson Saturday. He watches major-league attendance figures closely. He noted a recent Reds home game drew barely 10,000 people. "We'd play the Dodgers down there nine times a year, and we'd just about sell 'em all out," Anderson said. He notices the bleeding.
I do not understand the Reds, who reject Broadway out of hand. I do not understand Bedinghaus, who encourages the team's stubbornness. I wish he'd apply his vision and courage to the Reds would-be deal. I do not understand the business giants in this town, who absolutely cannot look past their own interests and see Broadway Commons as Cincinnati's Wrigley Field. Is making money so important to them as to blind them to the civic benefits of Broadway?
Is the future of baseball's oldest team nothing more than a business deal? I don't understand.
I don't own property on Fourth Street. I am not wealthy. I'm not running for office. I am not beholden to the errant whims of Marge Schott or the self-interests of Carl Lindner, who seems to play a big role in big decisions around here without being publicly answerable for much.
I'm not John Schneider, a big fan of Baseball on Main, more commonly known as The Wedge. Schneider says The Wedge is better than Broadway because parking would be more plentiful.
That's it. The Reds are part of the city's soul, one of its treasures and some measure of its identity. Their new home should be crammed onto the riverfront to serve the needs of families with minivans and sport utility vehicles.
"There were 8,387 parking spaces within six blocks of Broadway Commons and 14,234 within six blocks of Baseball on Main," Schneider explained to me.
Civic treasure as shopping mall. Civic identity as drive-through window. Get in, get out. Parking.
Listen to the people
I don't understand. Why won't Bedinghaus stick a loaded Broadway Commons to the Reds' temple and say, "Let's take a walk." Any Reds threats not to play there would be as empty as their threats to move. I've never seen such kowtowing.
Isn't anybody listening? I read the letters to the editor. I hear the guys at the YMCA. I do lots of talks to civic groups. They want Broadway. They don't understand.
It was their votes. It is their money. No one is listening to them. No one gives a damn. Shouldn't politicians give a damn? Isn't that their job? When was the last time the stadium was discussed in public, with average voters, earning average wages, with real concerns? Why is this decision left to rich and - or powerful people with no inclination to involve anyone else? I don't understand.
Saturday was the Bengals groundbreaking and the Reds ongoing heartbreaking. At Broadway Commons, the flags flapped on Central Parkway, right where the left-field seats would be.
Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at 768-8454.
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