By Ryan Ernst
The Cincinnati Enquirer

This weekend marked the end of an era in Cincinnati sports.

The elongated, pixilated "matrix" scoreboard and squared "Jumbotron" videoboard of Riverfront Stadium/Cinergy Field have given way to the 217-foot combination matrix/video board - the longest in baseball - of Great American Ball Park. The city has traded in its Atari for a PlayStation 2.

ODE TO JUMBOTRON

And here's to you, Mr. Jumbotron, Reds fans loved you more than you will know. Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's that you say, Mr. Jumbotron? The matrix board has left and gone away. Hey, hey, hey.

The new boards showcase more logos, crisper color and faster graphics.

But the old black and goldish-white graphics with which many Cincinnatians grew up did not make the trip to the new ballpark.

"The technology we were replacing was all from 1984," scoreboard operations manager Russ Jenisch said. "Obviously, computer technology has changed a lot since then. It's going to be brand new graphics. But some of the old standbys will be revamped and updated."

Revamped? Updated?

That just sounds like a nice way to tell old Misters Red 1 through 3 that their racing days are over. For years, the Pac-Man-looking, hat-wearing baseballs won races, beers and sometimes money for us, the fans.

But now a more digital, more exciting breed of Mr. Red has replaced them.

But that is just the beginning.

The Reds say their new scoreboard features bigger, better graphics. (Craig Ruttle photo) | ZOOM |

Had you forgotten about ...

Walks will haunt no longer, at least not the way they used to. The ghostly graphic with the Scooby-Doo spooky music has gone the way of Pong.

The black and white Charlie Chaplin walk graphic probably also has made its last appearance. Chaplin's leisurely stroll with a cane, spelling out "walk" in cursive, although not haunting, made its point.

And unless the Kahn's Big Red Smokey commercial is lucky enough to be revamped, Reds fans may have heard for the last time this exchange following a play at second base with some kind of tubular meat:

Umpire, trying to make the call: You're ... a hot dog.

Angry manager, charging from the dugout: Yer blind, that's a smoked sausage.

Umpire: I call 'em as I see 'em, and that's a hot dog.

The argument then continued until the manager shoved the dog/sausage into the umpire's mouth.

The ensuing "mmmmmmmmm" over the P.A. system left little doubt.

It was indeed a smoked sausage, and everyone knew it.

Of course, the new graphics will be more exciting and eye-catching. But more memorable than Cinergy's? Doubt it. Wonder why?

So weak, they were strong

"They were almost so bad they were good," Rich Linville, scoreboard operator since 1988, said.

Examples? Well, there were a variety of pitching-change montages: a pitcher riding in from the bullpen - on a bull - during a Reds change, then a tornado, shark or spaceship disposing of opposing pitchers.

Realistic? Hardly. Sensitive? Not really. Memorable? More so than the pitching change.

There were also several graphics for outstanding defensive plays. "Prize Play" depicted a player making a catch, then taking a bow as a curtain came down in front of him.

"What a Throw" showed a fielder loading up and firing his arm, which was really a cannon. Get it?

But the role of any good scoreboard montage is to encourage fan involvement. And where Cinergy failed with technology, it succeeded with simplicity. The "charge" graphics consisted of either a bull or a bomb. The "noise" logo was simply the word noise surrounded by exploding stars.

And "clap your hands, stomp your feet" was illustrated by . . . you guessed it, clapping hands and stomping feet.

Undoubtedly, the new yard will have more exciting ways to link fans to the field through its massive scoreboards. The organization has said the new Mr. Red Race will make people gasp, something of which Cinergy was never accused. Everything will be bigger, newer and better.

But more memorable? Not for those who grew up in the cookie-cutter stadium with Atari graphics.

So here's to the old boards and all they showed us. Your light bulbs burned out long before your legend ever will.

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E-mail rernst@enquirer.com