Great Seats, Eh, Buddy?

If you’re a good Cub fan, you’re wondering about those new bleachers. Yeah, you’ve seen the pictures, but what’s it really like out there? West Side Charlie’s on the case. I spent Sunday night in the new bleacher boxes in right for Sean Marshall’s debut and my first Cub-Cardinal game since the biggest win of the 2003 stretch drive.

I didn’t get a chance to check out the main bleacher sections or the restaurant, but keeping that in mind, here are West Side Charlie’s Cheers and Jeers.

Cheer:
Walking toward the gate at Waveland and Sheffield, the architecture is attractive, definitely more so than the nondescript walls it replaces. Ivy is to be planted on the outside as well, but I foresee fans giving it a run for its money.

Cheer:
The knothole and inside view through the right field wall is an instant classic, and the best single idea of the whole project. Passing through the neighborhood or coming home from work at the end of a day game? Take a peek at real live major league ball at ground level as you walk past. And it’s the ultimate throwback. The knotholes of old saw a lot of budding lifelong fans, including a few Hall of Famers among their ranks, and I hope future ballparks pick up on it.

Cheer:
The much-ballyhooed overhang above the sidewalk is a blessing to anyone who’s ever waited in the rain for the bleachers to open.

Cheer:
More video monitors outside the seating area make it easier to follow the game while going to and from your seat.

Cheer:
There’s a certain smell of “newness” that wafts in and out among the more traditional scent of spilled beer that’s been walked on.

Cheer: They made use of at least some of the batter’s eye area in center field that had undergone many unspectacular changes since the seats were first closed off.

Cheer/Jeer:
Much better PA speakers, but I’m still not a fan of them playing recorded music through them. Like David Byrne says, this ain't no disco. I came to see and get the feel of a ballgame, not to hear songs that have been overplayed for at least 20 years.

Jeer:
Bleacher Box sight lines. From the back row of the Bleacher Boxes, eight seats from the well in right in section 316, the scoreboard was nearly completely obscured. With the crowd at its feet, nothing was visible beyond a line extending from about the gate in left-center to a few seats past the curve in front of me. Jacque Jones’ homer to center and Michael Barrett’s grand slam to left were both in that guesswork area. I’ve sat in both wells before, and visibility issues are tricky when you’re not dealing with a true arc, so it was always a minor problem in a couple of spots, but now it seems more pronounced. I can’t understand why they didn’t smooth out those problems as long as they were re-doing the whole shmeer anyway. Especially considering the premium price, I recommend trading a seatback for a better view.

Jeer:
There’s still only one gate for the entire bleacher area. I’ve been in that opening rush as people race up the ramps for their favorite general admission areas, and it would be easier for fans to enter in right field if they want to sit in right field instead of trying to squeeze past people who are trying to squeeze past you to get to the other two-thirds of a two-block area. And when you’re cutting it close on time and hustling to the farthest corner of the ballpark, that could be the difference between seeing the first pitch and missing the first two hitters.

Jeer:
Open areas are set below the top of the main bleachers, so while there’s more room to mill around, less of it is in view of the field. And from what I saw, smokers were herded off to a concentrated area you have to pass to get to the concession stand or the washroom.

Jeer:
And of course, there’s the sponsorship issue. The Bud Light Bleacher Boxes promote a product that feeds the coffers of the Busch family, owners of the visiting St. Louis Cardinals. West Side Charlie does not drink Anheuser-Busch products, feeling less threatened by the team sponsor on the other side of the cheddar curtain.

Overall, I miss the old bleachers. They’re not the same ones my father sat in, or his father before him. I can no longer look for the spot where they pointed out Bill Veeck to me one day, which led to a great afternoon of stories about vines and scoreboards and Eddie Gaedel.

But it is what it is. This generation of fans will tell their kids about the old days before they re-did the bleachers, just like my generation and light towers, my dad’s generation and the basket, or my grandfather’s and the upper deck, bleachers and scoreboard. Either way, I’ll take a bad seat at Wrigley over a good seat at home.