Walton: Bottom of 9th for Tropicana Field

First the good news. When Hurricane Milton blew the lid off Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, Fla., 11 days ago, nobody inside was killed or injured.

Though hundreds of cots had been placed on the field to provide temporary housing for emergency responders, the crews had been moved elsewhere before the storm’s full rage blasted downtown St. Pete and battered the Tropicana roof to pieces.

What, you’re waiting for the bad news?

There isn’t any.

Though there is nothing funny about a hurricane, I’m reminded of the old joke told at the expense of a community accustomed to being the butt of cruel humor: “A hurricane blew through (insert city of your choice here) and did $100 million worth of improvements.”

That’s how a lot of baseball fans feel about Tropicana Field. The building’s roof is — or I should say “was” — six acres of triangular panels of translucent Teflon-coated fiberglass. According to the engineers, the roof was designed to withstand hurricane force winds up to 115 miles per hour. Milton tore into the place somewhere between 84 mph and 106 and demonstrated otherwise.

After the storm, drone photos showed the devastation from above. Huge pieces of the roof littered the playing field below and slammed into the seating sections. Had emergency workers been inside as originally planned, the storm’s toll could have been much worse.

The ballpark, home of the Tampa Bay Rays, is known not so affectionately as “The Trop.” It is no exaggeration to suggest that it is generally regarded as the worst baseball stadium in the major leagues. A routine flyball can become an adventure for outfielders, who often lose sight of it as it sails against the backdrop of the white roof and a network of catwalks. Occasionally over the 34 years of the ballpark’s life, a ball in play has struck the walkways above.

There’s a personal irony here. I was in St. Petersburg just ahead of the storm for the wedding of one of my granddaughters. I had a great view of the Trop from my hotel room. It was not the best time of year — during hurricane season — to plan a beach wedding on Florida’s Gulf Coast, but they had their reasons. It was beautiful.

The happy couple dodged Milton after the ceremony and reception and flew off on their honeymoon. I hopped on one of the last flights out before the Tampa airport closed down. The drive across Tampa Bay to the airport was slow and nerve-wracking. When I stopped for gas for the rental car, I was the only person in line who wasn’t filling gas cans.

I have seen a lot of major league games over the years in many ballparks.

Some new. Some old. Some dazzle. Some don’t. One night many years ago at the Astrodome in Houston, I had to leave my seat because the roof was leaking at several locations around the rim, including mine.

Despite their age and infrastructure issues, Fenway Park in Boston and Wrigley Field in Chicago are baseball shrines. Tropicana Field is not. The Trop was designed to eliminate often volatile Florida weather as a game-day threat. That’s what domed stadiums do, except when Milton showed up on game day, this one didn’t.

It now appears there is no way to get the ballpark ready for the 2025 season. Its long-term future, however, has already been determined. A new $1.3 billion ballpark is planned near the present stadium’s site, and it is expected to be ready by the 2028 season.

Wrecking crews will demolish what remains of Tropicana Field after the 2027 season ends.

So St. Petersburg and Major League Baseball face a dilemma. What if there are structural issues beyond just the destruction of the roof? Is it worth the cost of repairing a 34-year-old facility if the Rays are only going to play in it for three more seasons?

And if the answer is no — if it’s not worth the fix — then where do the Rays play until their new stadium is ready? I’ve seen speculation that alternate sites could include minor league ballparks in Florida, or even as far away as the Oakland Coliseum in California, now that the Oakland A’s have fled to Las Vegas. That one could be a tough sell for season tickets holders in Tampa and St. Pete.

One of the most likely candidates might be the Wide World of Sports Complex at Disney World in Orlando.

The Rays played six regular season games there in 2007 and 2008 (winning them all, by the way). The ballpark seats 9,500, far short of major league standards but not out of line with the temporary home of the Oakland A’s in Sacramento. The Disney site at Lake Buena Vista is a 94-mile drive from Tropicana Field. An inconvenience but doable.

Meanwhile, human nature being what it is, the unscrupulous are trying to sell pieces of the roof on eBay.

Prices start at $150 and go up to $1,000 if you’re interested. Please tell me you are not.

If it is determined that the Trop is playable until the new ballpark is built, forget about the roof and let the Rays play outdoors in the elements — like most of the other major league teams do.

Tropicana Field, in fact, is the only ballpark in the majors with a fixed dome roof that can’t be retracted.

Clearly it’s safe to say that Mother Nature found a way.

Thomas Walton is the retired editor and vice president of The Blade. His column appears every other Sunday. His radio commentary, “Life As We Know It,” can be heard on WGTE public radio every Monday at 5:44 p.m. during “All Things Considered.” Contact him at twalton@theblade.com .