From a friend (Anna) on another blog:
I am looking for people to participate in an online Farewell to Candlestick party. The purpose is, of course, to hold a going away party for the soon-to-be Great America 49ers. The second purpose is to test out software that I hope will become a significant part of and asset to social media and fan/user interaction. The software is at my.groupol.ogy, but you’ll need a private invitation in order to participate in this multimedia event that will feature videos, Candlestick memories, photos and live chat during the game. If you’d like to participate, please send email to firstname.lastname@example.org). If you cannot attend, please contribute your own Candlestick memories on the “Jon Dowds Revenge” site listed in my blogroll (jondowdsrevenge.wordpress.com). Thanks!
It still hasn’t really sunk in yet. Candlestick Park, Monster Cable Stadium, 3-Com, Shit-hole, The Pigsty, whatever you want to call it, it will forever in my heart be The Stick. Some time soon it will be imploded and forgotten. I can’t even begin to guess at how many baseball and football games I’ve been to at the grand old hole, but I do remember the first game I went to. I was in 2nd grade, and it was 1969.
My mom thought it would be a great idea to take me and all the 2nd grade boys (16 of us) in my class to Bat Day. Bat Day usually fell near my birthday (April 25th), and this game was on the day after. I don’t remember very much about the game, but it was a sunny gorgeous Saturday, we were playing Astros, and all my favorite players were out there. Willie Mays, Bobby Bonds, Willie McCovey, and Juan Marichal. An old guy behind me said “watch that centerfielder for the Astros. Jimmy Wynn. They call him the Toy Cannon.” I don’t know if he did anything that day, but I loved the nickname, and he became a guy whose career I followed as a kid. We were sitting in the upper deck cheapies on the 1st base side. I think we won.
The coolest thing about the game was the bats. Every kid 14 and under got a regulation sized bat. During any rally, all the kids would start pounding the bats on the concrete in rhythm. A sound that I’ll never forget, since there were tons of kids in the stands that day. My mom put up with a lot of kid shennanigans, and I hve no idea how we all got there, but I do remember getting bags of peanuts, those Carnation Malted things with the little wooden spoons, hot dogs, and cokes. We had a lot of fun stacking peanut shells on the hats of the 2 drunk oldsters in front of us who had fallen asleep (passed out?) somewhere around the 6th inning. All in all a greeat day, and my introduction to The Stick. Mom did that for the next couple years, bless her heart, and from then on I went to games every chance I got. Scrounging up money to catch the bus and hit the bleachers for 50 cents, or glomming on to friends who were going.
There’s talk of opening the stadium up some time next year for one last tour, and that is something I will not miss.
If you have any pictures or stories to share about the ol’ shit-hole, let me know . . .