By Paul Daugherty
The Cincinnati Enquirer

Riverfront Stadium was born with 100,000 miles on it. It was the reconditioned engine, the factory second, the imperfect garment, the dented can of corn that sells for half price. You could buy Riverfront Stadium at an outlet mall, or so it seemed.

It had the ambience of a coal mine: plastic grass, soulless concrete, medieval restrooms. Have a good time at the game. Watch for falling pieces of garage roof. With its utter lack of Reds and Bengals history, it could have been in Dubuque.

Perhaps it was state-of-the-art magnificent in 1970. (Big, gray doughnuts with fake grass? What were we thinking?) I don't know. I didn't get there until 1988. By then, the place was rotting. The city and county never took care of it. Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh opened the same year. Three Rivers was Charlize Theron compared to Riverfront's Olive Oyl. Pittsburgh kept its place clean and painted.

Where credit's due

Memories? Sure, but don't give the stadium credit for that. The same things could have happened on a sandlot. Players make memories, not stadiums.

The most vivid nostalgia: Glenn Braggs, 6 feet 4, leaping to rob Pittsburgh's Carmelo Martinez of a homer in Game6 of the '90 NLCS. If Braggs had been 6-3, maybe the Reds don't go wire to wire.

Classics: Perfect Tom Browning, Barry Larkin on the outfield plastic, fielding, throwing and ... got 'im; Boomer's play-fakes, Eric Davis' 370-foot message to the A's in Game1 of the '90 World Series. Norm Charlton and Mike Scioscia, Lou Piniella and first base. Pete and Cobb. Joe Nuxhall, in the booth. Billy Bates.

Classy: Jose Rijo, back in business. Davis in '96. The summer of '99. Boomer playing five games of his life in '97 for his son. Paul Brown.

So long, Riverfront, and remember: Ya don't live in Cleveland.

E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com