I strolled down J street with a tingly feeling in my stomach. It was 9 years ago, I was home from college on Spring Break. I walked alone to a place I’d before only dreamed about. In 8th grade, my father drove me through the East Village of San Diego, pointing through abandoned warehouses and telling me a ballpark might be built here soon. It didn’t make sense to me at the time, but 5 years later here I was, walking with a kick in my step and excitement jolting throughout my body as I approached Petco Park for the first time.
I thought about a lot of things just before my virgin experience with Petco. I thought about the years I spent in row 7, later row 11 on the first base side of field level in Jack Murphy Stadium watching the Padres. My favorite team had seen a lot of losing. I’d watched a lot of losing. I had a new home for now, but would there come a point when I would want more than that? I’d watched other cities build stadiums and seen success, but would there come a time when fans simply stopped caring about the newness of a stadium?
Late Monday night, in a blowout game against the Brewers, I took this picture and answered my question:
Our honeymoon with Petco Park is over.
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