A Splendid Nest

Even Baltimore fans got their say. Months before the park was completed they were given tours, during which they offered ideas on what they wanted in their new ballpark. Among those adopted were elevated full-view bullpens and changing tables in men's restrooms.

Perhaps the happiest result is that Oriole Park marks only the beginning of a clear trend in stadium design. HOK is designing two similar structures, one for downtown Denver that will be home to the expansion Colorado Rockies and the other for the Indians in Cleveland . A Washington, D.C. , firm, David M. Schwarz/Architectural Services, is designing an asymmetrical, old-fashioned park for the Texas Rangers in Arlington .

But it's fitting that the new age of the retropark is being celebrated already in Baltimore , a provincial, blue-collar, crab-cakes-and-beer town with thick roots and a thicker accent: They love dem O's in Balmer. It's a brick town, a neighborhood town, a town of families, families like the Tylers. Ernie Tyler, who never missed a game in 32 years as the ball steward at Memorial Stadium, has 11 children. Two sons, Jim and Fred, are the equipment managers for the home and visitors clubhouses. Ernie was there Monday, delivering balls to the umpire, working his old post in the new park—a natural fit. Ernie just wouldn't look right delivering baseballs in the SkyDome. And the SkyDome would look ridiculous in Baltimore .

"I couldn't see Astro Turf in this town," says Flanagan . "This is a town of tradition. This team has never had extroverted players. Characters, yes. Extroverts, no. It's a working-class park in a working-class town."

Frank Robinson , a Hall of Famer and now the team's assistant general manager, says, "Any other kind of park wouldn't have fit the personality of the city and the people. It's perfect."

It's a civic love affair, this passion between Baltimoreans and their Orioles , and it was born long before the new park. In the past five seasons only the Indians and the Braves have lost more games than the Orioles , yet the O's have become even more beloved. In the last two seasons Baltimore averaged 90 losses but still drew almost five million fans. With the new ballpark, the O's may draw more than three million this season alone. "That is what makes this so special," says Milligan. "It's more than wins and losses here; it's a family thing. You never desert your family."

Never was that more evident than in 1988, when the Orioles lost their first 21 games—demolishing a major league record—en route to a 54-107 disaster. When the O's returned from a road trip with a 1-23 record, a crowd of 50,402 showed up at Memorial Stadium for their first game back. "No matter how badly we played, they came back the next day and rooted for us," says Robinson , who managed most of that pitiful season in which the Orioles still drew 1.6 million fans. "They didn't boo us. No other place in America would have done that. If they don't desert you when you're 1-23 in April, they'll never desert you."

Baltimore knows about desertion, though. The Baltimore Bullets deserted in 1973, moving to the outskirts of Washington, D.C. The Baltimore Colts deserted in the middle of the night in 1984, stealing away to Indianapolis . That left the Orioles as the only game in town. Says Robinson , "The fans say, 'The Orioles didn't desert us—they're our team.' "

"I can't say that bond doesn't exist elsewhere, because I haven't lived elsewhere," says Lucchino. "But I've felt it here. The fans' loyalty is something we have to nurture. It's a wonderful treasure."

That was obvious last October, during the final weekend at Memorial Stadium. Some 90 former Orioles returned for an emotional three days, capped by a tear-jerking final ceremony in which all the players slowly drifted out to their positions in a wonderful takeoff of the movie Field of Dreams. Players, writers and fans were seen openly weeping. "I don't think I'll ever have a moment like that again in my life," says Flanagan .