Originally posted by ChipDouglas510:
Originally posted by Bali-Niner:
A lot of lame comments here, better to say goodbye privately with hard-core Niner fans that actually have been at our beloved Stick for years and years and know what they are talking about. I'll be offering up a few toasts and shedding a tear or two when the curtain comes down..
Here is just one of many opinions that altho The Stick was not ever a "state of the art" tech trap full of people with short attention spans it was still a near bottomless pit of full-on football soul..Niners!
Here's some quotes for people like us and maybe for some others to learn from. Taken from the link up top and and from a blog by Lynch:
"I'm happy I had an opportunity to do good things there, and also get a chance to play some playoff games there, too," Gore
said Thursday. "You think of the guys who did great things before us, like Jerry Rice, Joe Montana, Steve Young. I'm happy I
had an opportunity to play on the same field that they played on."
"We're hitting the right stride at the right time," Gore said. "We just want to get in the tournament. You look at it the
last two years, it was a wild-card team that won the Super Bowl. So, we just want to get in there and do what we do."
But first, Gore gets one last shot to show what he can do in Candlestick. No matter how helpful the soft sod has been on his
surgically repaired knees, Gore said: "You still get hit. You still get hit. I'm happy to say I can played in a stadium that
a lot of great guys, a lot of Hall of Fame guys played there before me."
From the link above;
The man whose team called it home while winning five Super Bowls labeled it a "pigsty." A Hall of Fame baseball manager called it "a toilet with the lid up." A Giants player said the only difference between it and nearby maximum security prison San Quentin is, "here they let you go home at night." And San Francisco's late, great beloved columnist, for whom an Embarcadero waterfront is named, called it "the ninth blunder of the world."
With all due respect to Eddie DeBartolo, Whitey Herzog, Bob Knepper, Herb Caen and so many others who are currently saying good riddance to it, I say: I come not to bury Candlestick Park, but to praise it.
On Monday night, the San Francisco 49ers will play theAtlanta Falcons at Candlestick Park, the final game scheduled at the stadium that opened in 1960. When the final gun sounds, 54 years of wind-whipped memories will close. Those memories, and that history, mean more than the damp cold when the fog swept through July nights at Giants baseball games. Those memories, and that history, carry more resonance than the inconvenience of flooded parking lots for 49ers playoff games.
We've all been to funerals. And we know that when we mourn the deceased, we don't focus on his or her problems, issues, dysfunctions. Instead, we celebrate the life. Because in the end, that's all we've got.
Why I Will Miss Candlestick Park, Chapter 2: The games matter. The Catch, the '89 Quake, eight NFC championships. The players matter, too. I am open to arguments here, but I think you'll lose when I say that no other stadium in American sports history can claim arguably two of the three greatest all-around players in baseball history, the greatest quarterback in NFL history and possibly the greatest football player, period. Yes, I will put Willie Mays, Barry Bonds, Joe Montana and Jerry Rice up against any one stadium's quartet. The Beatles played their last concert at Candlestick, but Mays/Bonds/Montana/Rice? That's our Fab Four. That they all called Candlestick home matters, deeply. A house is just a building. It's the family inside that makes it a home.
Yes, getting in and out of Candlestick Park by car was terribly difficult, particularly after 68,000 took in a 49ers game. Public transportation was inefficient, at best, despite any childhood warm fuzzies over Muni's "Ballpark Express" from Van Ness and California to the 'Stick. There's no arguing that point. But other things matter more.
Why I Will Miss Candlestick Park, Final Chapter: It had a funky magic all its own, mostly because it wasn't the prettiest girl at the ball. It touched you in ways both surprising and profound. There is a route to the park on Jamestown Street where you crest a hill, and Candlestick comes into view on your left, the concrete rim of the stadium, the rusted red light stanchions soaring to the sky. The Bay, on a Sunday NFL morning, sun-dappled, spreads behind it. The place looks romantic from there. It does. You could paint it. And unlike modern yards with open sightlines upon entry, Candlestick was like a movie theater. You had to pull open a door to gaze at the playing field, and when you did, your eyes would look from a dark walkway, gaze past red-orange seats, and see a burst of green. If you were a kid, it blew your mind, stole your breath. It was Narnia behind the wardrobe.
Time marches on. Stadiums age and are demolished. Seals Stadium in San Francisco is no more; it's a mall now. Kezar Stadium is a high school track. New temples are built; it's how the Earth turns. Joni Mitchell sang that "something's lost, but something's gained, in living every day."
There will be something lost when Candlestick Park comes down. Lost, and gone forever.
These are many of the same memories many of us have, because like one of the lines say; The Stick weeded many casual fans out; "When a stadium isn't fashionable, it tends to draw only the truest. " The last paragraph in particular is my fave; the doors leading into the lower bowl, and opening one on your way to your seats and seeing the seats fading away down into the green of the field. No way you couldn't get way up for the game on hand.. My pal and I used to stand there and soack it in and say..."Ahhhh the gladiatorial splendor of it all!" with huge grins as we hurried down to LE33 seats 6-7 row 11..