Travel Blog

I wrote yesterday's blog post before I learned that the Marlins' new stadium had been approved. I was delighted when I read the news in the Herald, and I enjoyed Greg Cote's column comparing the Miami-Dade County commission vote to a home run.

"Monday gave us a fighting chance," Cote wrote, "to become one of those cities that build a bond with baseball." The two cities he gave as prime examples were Boston and Chicago.

I hope the bond is built, but I'm not convinced it will be. The fan base for the Red Sox and the Cubs stretches for miles in many directions; people in Portsmouth and Peoria look forward to a trip to the big city to catch a game.

The same is not true for our scrappy, lovable Marlins. To the east of Miami is ocean; to the west, swamp; to the north, thousands of people who would rather swim with sharks than drive south on I-95. Some of them are baseball fans who attend games now, with one foot in Dade, but would not dream of braving the depths of Little Havana.

I'm not one of them - I'd rather go to Miami than any place in Florida - but I know them, I live among them. It's not so much that they hate Miami, or that they fear it (though many do), but that they see it as a thing apart, a place that has no meaning for them. Like Boston and Chicago, Miami is a regional capital - but the region is Latin America. (And not many people take planes to baseball games.)

It is impossible to imagine a concept like Marlins Nation. Marlins County is about the best we can hope for. Go Fish.