The 49ers and Candlestick represented what the Bay Area was. San Francisco was friendly, small, and quirky. San Jose was the heart of the Valley of Heart's Delight.
In the glory days, the 49ers were heroes who lived among us. Dwight Clark and Ronnie Lott owned restaurants in the area. Ronnie Lott owned the gym to which I belong. Joe and Jennifer no last name needed lived in Atherton, and were constantly in the news for normal family events, such as the birth of a child. And of course, Roger Craig appeared in local underwear ads. Ronnie Lott and Brent Jones still live in the South Bay. I ran into Jerry Rice at Stanford Shopping Center during the team's heyday, and have run into Jones several times at the Starbucks around the corner. Today, players' salaries enable them to live elsewhere in the offseason, flying in for practice and games. The salary cap and free agency make their stay here transitory.
Candlestick was working class, right off a working class neighborhood where the locals scalped tickets. The scalping was as much a part of that neighborhood's culture as the pastel houses were. All the lots were sloppy, just off the bay. A church offered gated parking along with available restrooms. Tickets, even during the 1980s, were affordable. I was able to share season tickets with friends, even though none of us had more than modest incomes. The stadium was enclosed on all sides, creating a home field advantage. Crazy George was as quirky as the twin sisters.
Levi's is what the Bay Area has become. The financial base has shifted south. The Valley of the Heart's Delight has become Silicon Valley and its offices, not homes, now host the stadium. Ingress is as congested as 280 during rush hour. The building is nouveau riche, with charging stations and its own app. Luxury boxes no longer ring the stadium away from the view from regular seats, but sit in open sight between the levels, like Teslas in the front or corporate parking lots. Individual seats, like the fleeting salaries of the tech wealthy, are priced so that single games are a rare luxury. Even the food, which includes not just standard stadium, but both tortas and curries, represent a more diverse populace. The seats no longer engulf the playing field or hold in sound, which represents a reduced need for the plebeian home field crowd.
There is no going back.
In the glory days, the 49ers were heroes who lived among us. Dwight Clark and Ronnie Lott owned restaurants in the area. Ronnie Lott owned the gym to which I belong. Joe and Jennifer no last name needed lived in Atherton, and were constantly in the news for normal family events, such as the birth of a child. And of course, Roger Craig appeared in local underwear ads. Ronnie Lott and Brent Jones still live in the South Bay. I ran into Jerry Rice at Stanford Shopping Center during the team's heyday, and have run into Jones several times at the Starbucks around the corner. Today, players' salaries enable them to live elsewhere in the offseason, flying in for practice and games. The salary cap and free agency make their stay here transitory.
Candlestick was working class, right off a working class neighborhood where the locals scalped tickets. The scalping was as much a part of that neighborhood's culture as the pastel houses were. All the lots were sloppy, just off the bay. A church offered gated parking along with available restrooms. Tickets, even during the 1980s, were affordable. I was able to share season tickets with friends, even though none of us had more than modest incomes. The stadium was enclosed on all sides, creating a home field advantage. Crazy George was as quirky as the twin sisters.
Levi's is what the Bay Area has become. The financial base has shifted south. The Valley of the Heart's Delight has become Silicon Valley and its offices, not homes, now host the stadium. Ingress is as congested as 280 during rush hour. The building is nouveau riche, with charging stations and its own app. Luxury boxes no longer ring the stadium away from the view from regular seats, but sit in open sight between the levels, like Teslas in the front or corporate parking lots. Individual seats, like the fleeting salaries of the tech wealthy, are priced so that single games are a rare luxury. Even the food, which includes not just standard stadium, but both tortas and curries, represent a more diverse populace. The seats no longer engulf the playing field or hold in sound, which represents a reduced need for the plebeian home field crowd.
There is no going back.