Travel Blog

I was delighted to hear that the World Baseball Classic was coming back to Miami because, I thought, I’ll get to see a game with the roof open. This has been my biggest complaint about the Marlins: that from opening day to the last game of the season, they invariably play with the roof closed. The city, or Loria, or whoever robbed Miami’s taxpayers to build the stadium should have saved a bundle and just built an indoor stadium. A retractable roof that’s never opened makes no sense.

The traffic to the stadium yesterday evening was much worse than for a Marlins game; the cost of parking in the garage – I discovered only after it was too late – was twice as much. But there was a buzz, a rare sense of excitement as fans – most of them in Puerto Rico jerseys – headed to the stadium.

Where the roof was closed. I moaned to anyone hanging around who looked is if they might speak English: two cops standing outside the stadium, a man checking tickets in the outfield, anyone wearing a lanyard. One statuesque woman who worked for the Marlins took me to Guest Services, where the young woman there said nonchalantly, “They never open the roof.” No one shared my outrage. “People like to be comfortable,” someone told me. Someone else said they make the decision about the roof two days before the game, based on a number of factors. I thought: Yea, it probably has to be 76 degrees, with zero humidity, zero chance of precipitation, and wind speeds of less than 5 miles an hour. I said I'd heard it was the players who demanded a cool, climate-controlled environment, but that I thought that worked for spoiled professionals, not teams in an international competition (though most of Puerto Rico’s starting lineup plays in the majors). I asked one young man in a lanyard whom I can write to, and he said he would take my concerns to the top himself. Still, I am going to write to Ng, explaining that, after sitting indoors all day, most people like to be in the fresh air. This is why restaurants have outdoor tables – even in summer. Not to mention the environmental cost of air-conditioning a huge stadium. Of course, climate change, and rising seas, are not things Miami has to worry about.

I eventually settled down, and briefly got into the noise and excitement. I stood out behind the left field stands, where I bought an arepa from the nearby cart, the only decent foodstuff in the stadium.

By the third inning I had a headache. And I’d lost my voice by complaining over the din. At the start of the fourth I took the escalator down and exited the stadium. It was a beautiful evening in Miami.