Thursday, May 31, 2007

"They Died Young"--Volume I (of an occasional series)

As an aficionado of sports arenas and stadiums, I’m rather fascinated by those that had a relatively short life compared with venerable institutions like Fenway Park and Wrigley Field.  There was a time when sports venues would last 50-60 years or more, but the life expectancy for them now is much shorter.  Some arenas and stadiums are ill-conceived to begin with or become obsolete faster than others, while some just aren’t properly maintained and fall into disrepair and die before their time.  I'm rather sentimental when it comes to old stadiums and arenas, and I'm all for the preservation of themI even feel a tinge of sadness when the crappy ones like the Kingdome in Seattle and Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium are demolishedand the past two decades have brought about an unprecedented wave of new stadium construction and/or renovation.  Every team seemingly wants a new place to play every 20 years or so, and I find it rather sad sometimes when perfectly good sports venues get tossed away like old cigarette lighters, so from time to time, I’m going to feature the ones who didn't quite reach the legendary status of Chicago Stadium or Yankee Stadium, much less senility like St. Louis Arena or old Comiskey Park...

Volume I: Richfield Coliseum
The NBA’s expansion Cleveland Cavaliers played their first four seasons at the outdated and inadequate Cleveland Arena from 1970-74, but got a major upgrade when they moved to their new home, the Richfield Coliseum, a wonderful arena—that stood practically in the middle of nowhere! Thanks to a bad idea that was conceived with the best of intentions, it was decided to locate the building exactly halfway between the cities of Cleveland and Akron, with the idea being that it would draw more fans from the surrounding area of nearly five million people (nearby Canton included) because the arena was more centrally-located for everyone.  Great idea—in theory.  Not-so-great in practice...


Richfield Township is your basic bump in the road, with just a few houses and farms scattered about.  When I visited there in May, 1991, I expected to find the arena surrounded by modern suburbia, so imagine my shock when I could see the thing standing all by itself on a hill from the Interstate about two miles away as I approached.  Hell, there wasn't even a gas station or a McDonald's or anything nearby—just a hulking concrete monolith in the middle of a huge parking lot surrounded by farmland as far as the eye could see.  There were basically only two main roads to get to the Coliseum—I-271 and Streetsboro Road which intersects it, and if either of them were congested because of accidents or bad weather on event nights, things quickly turned into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.  Many’s the time events were delayed until most of the fans could get there (especially during snowstorms), and departing the facility was often a challenge as well.

 Too bad, too, because Richfield Coliseum was actually a great place to watch a sporting event.  It had great sight lines and was ahead of its time for the ‘70s with its video screens and numerous luxury suites that ringed the top of the arena, which held around 19,000 people for basketball and concerts, and a little less for hockey.  Parking was abundant too, but the main knock on the place (besides its location) was that the concourses were too small and claustrophobic on nights with big crowds—a common design flaw of ‘70s-era venues.

Frank Sinatra packed the place on its opening night in October, 1974, and fans actually did make the trek in droves to the nether world of Richfield for a few years, as the Cavs finally put a decent team on the court in the late ’70s and on into the ‘80s.  Perhaps the most famous sports moment in the Coliseum’s history was the last-second shot (oft-repeated on ESPN) made by Michael Jordan over Greg Ehlo in 1989 to beat the Cavaliers in the playoffs, after which MJ jumped around and pumped his fist triumphantly and the Chicago Bulls radio announcer screamed "THE BULLS WIN! THEY WIN IT!"  Big-league hockey had a cup of coffee in Richfield, as the NHL’s Cleveland Barons—the former California Golden Seals—transplanted from the Bay Area in 1976, and lasted only two miserable seasons before merging with the Minnesota North Stars in 1978.  But it was another team in another sport that truly kept the turnstiles spinning at Richfield Coliseum, the Major Indoor Soccer League’s Cleveland Force.  In spite of their gaudy canary yellow uniforms (see below), the Force was with Cleveland fans for over ten years during the early and mid-‘80s, at least until the novelty wore off and the team folded in 1988.

I had the pleasure of seeing two indoor soccer games at the Coliseum, and they turned out to be the final two games in the history of my beloved Kansas City Comets.  That's our man Gino Schiraldi in the above photo against the Farce, er uh, Force.  Not knowing for sure heading in that the end was near for the team (rumors had circled for months of the team's demise), I altered my original vacation plan that included an Orioles game at old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore, and I’m so glad I did.  I wound up seeing Game 6 and 7 of a rugged playoff series between the Comets and the Cleveland Crunch (who replaced the Force in 1989), and both games were thrillers, as the Comets staved off elimination in Game 6 on Thursday night by mounting a major comeback and won 8-6, and fell just short of making the MISL Championship series, losing Game 7 on Saturday 7-6.  Sadly, the Comets folded during the off-season, but at least I was there for the bitter end, and that meant a lot to me.  I never got to see a game at Memorial Stadium, either, but I guess we can’t have everything…

The end was near for Richfield Coliseum by that time too.  Attendance for Crunch games was mediocre, as it was for Cavs games (unless Jordan or Magic Johnson was in town), and it was readily apparent that the noble experiment of an arena in the boonies wasn’t working.  The Cleveland Indians were already building a new stadium downtown, and the Cavs wanted in on the gravy train, so they built their new joint, Gund Arena (now called Quicken Loans Arena—ewww), right next door to the Tribe’s Jacobs Field, thus spawning a renaissance for downtown Cleve-Land that I’d like to see Kansas City duplicate with the new Sprint Center.  Meanwhile, Richfield Coliseum closed in 1994—at the tender age of 20.  After standing dormant for about five years, the building was demolished in 1999 in a rather unique way—the arena was knocked down bit-by-bit (see photos below), and almost literally buried in its own basement and covered, and the land was returned to its original bucolic splendor.  During a visit there last fall, I could barely even make out where the place used to stand.  But it's not all bad in Richfield today—they do have a McDonald’s now...

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