Riverfront Stadium went down Sunday morning like a torpedoed ship, sinking in a sea of smoke and dust as a dazzling orange sun rose behind it. It was surprisingly graceful for something so huge, an inescapable reminder that even the things that look permanent can be gone in seconds.

Yes, I know, the new name is Cinergy Field. But I think the Queen City's old crown should be buried under the name it was born with: Riverfront. We owe it that much.

After all, for 30 years it was a trademark that set Cincinnati apart like a tattoo in a lineup of cities. In a skyline of rectangles, it was the simple circle that said "Cincinnati." It was the epicenter of our region, the place where east met west and Kentucky met Ohio, where all the highways intersected in a knot that tied all the suburbs to downtown.

Our home plate

If a satellite camera searched for the heart of Cincinnati, it would find the loop of the Ohio River, then downtown, then Riverfront Stadium, then zoom in on home plate. Baseball at Riverfront has been glued to Cincinnati the way skin sticks to hot metal seats in the sixth inning of an August afternoon.

Peeling it off is like getting rid of an old Band-Aid. We're glad to see it go, but it still hurts a little. And it reminds us of the way our city has stumbled and skinned its knees.

Riverfront is gone, but in the swirling cloud of dust and debris we also lost a symbol of a more positive and hopeful time 20 or 30 years ago.

I've only been in Cincinnati about 10 years. Not long enough to have a lifetime of memories of Riverfront and the Reds and a more vibrant downtown. But I've been here long enough to remember Riverfront in the dark at a Rolling Stones concert, and a heart-lifting sunrise over the stadium during a Promise Keepers event.

I've been here long enough to see the city lose confidence and direction, allowing its downtown to chip and crumble like the poorly maintained stadium.

Riverfront could have been treated better, but it was caught in the crossfire between two petty team owners who couldn't overcome their personal pride to do what was best for the city.

The stadium had to be replaced, but Cincinnati allowed itself to be forced into a decision that we regret like a failed marriage.

Fill in the blanks

Baseball should have been first. Looking in the rearview mirror, we can see that the Bengals should have stayed in Riverfront until they proved they deserved a better stadium.

It's all water under the I-75 bridge now. But these scrapes and bruises - egos, personalities, poor leadership - are not unique to Riverfront.

As we watched the old ashtray go up in smoke, I wondered: What will replace it?

There's a new Great American Ballpark to give our city a heart transplant for baseball. There's Paul Brown Stadium. But what fills the blanks between? What about the dream of a new riverfront with parks, restaurants, nightclubs and housing?

Let's not let it sink in a dead sea of parking.

E-mail pbronson@enquirer.com or call 768-8301.