Travel Blog

Since I can’t watch them on TV, I drove down yesterday to see the Marlins play the Mets. I had vowed to never again go to a Mets game at loanDepot Park – their fans outnumber the home team’s by about 10-1 – but I knew that early April was my only chance to see the stadium with the roof open.

And it was, giving fans that disconcerting thrill of seeing the outdoors indoors. I first experienced it as a child, at Connie Mack Stadium in Philadelphia: I’d enter the gate with my family, walk through dark, concrete concourses, and then pass through an opening to see a sunlit field. It never failed to amaze me: this pastoral expanse in the middle of a building in the middle of a city.

As always, I bought the cheapest seat – yesterday’s was in Section 136, upper deck in right-centerfield – and spent most of the game roaming. People in Mets jerseys prowled the concourses and munched at the tables on the promenade level. Their greatest concentration was behind the visiting team’s dugout, but they dominated every section. In extra innings, they grew very loud – even with an open roof – and I felt sorry for the Marlins players, hearing roars for their opponents while wearing their home whites. I suspect those roars contributed to the error that brought in the winning run.

This phantom home field advantage seems to be unique to baseball in South Florida. Rangers fans attend Panthers games, just as Knicks fans go to see the Heat, and Jets fans the Dolphins, but they never outnumber the home team’s supporters. Our other sports teams are strong enough to have attracted a large and vocal fan base. Only the Marlins suffer the hurt of feeling like visitors in their own stadium. It’s why I love them.