By Tim Sullivan

The basic elements of a stadium are steel and cement, but its essence is defined by architecture and ambiance.

Cinergy Field never scored very high in the essence department. It was a cold, concrete doughnut before the Bengals vacated, and whatever character it has acquired in obsolescence soon will be imploded. The total tears this will provoke surely will be less than the volume of water that collected on Tom Browning's cap during his soggy perfect game against the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Yet if it is to leave us unmourned, the ballpark christened Riverfront Stadium hasn't left us unmoved. A lot of amazing stuff happened here. Historic stuff. Silly stuff.

Pete Rose surpassed Ty Cobb and then took up the melancholy chase of Joe Jackson. Later, Lou Piniella uprooted first base and flung it into right field.

The Bengals prevailed under arctic conditions in the Freezer Bowl. Much later, when his team qualified for a second Super Bowl, the dignified Paul Brown deigned to perform the Ickey Shuffle.

Rose flattening Ray Fosse ... Anthony Munoz flattening everything in his path ... Johnny Bench on Johnny Bench Night ... Sam Wyche on the sideline microphone ... Eric Davis, when the whole world was within his grasp ... Isaac Curtis, leaving the whole world in his wake.

So many indelible moments. So many remarkable individuals. So much to savor from this charmless stadium. If Cinergy Field was built as a marriage of convenience - a means of seducing the NFL and stabilizing the Reds - it would become Cincinnati's leading source of shared memories. As a site, it is stark and utilitarian. As a stage, it has been spectacular.

Tim Sullivan started at the Enquirer in 1977 and was a sports columnist from 1984-2002. He's now a sports columnist at the San Diego Union-Tribune.