Oh, baseball stadiums! You step into one and the world shifts a bit, doesn’t it? There’s a certain magic in these cathedrals of sport. Maybe it’s the crack of the bat or the vendors yelling over each other, hawking hot dogs and peanuts. And don’t even get me started on the guys selling free sports picks as though they’ve cracked the code to the universe.

It’s the granddaddy of them all. Built in 1912, Fenway is cane-wielding old but still sprightly as ever. You walk into Fenway, and you’re met with the “Green Monster.” A gigantic wall that looks like it just might eat the ball for lunch. This stadium doesn’t lend itself to mediocrity; it demands tales of triumph and heartache to echo in its stands. There’s also something intricately chaotic about trying to find your seat. Like a treasure hunt minus the gold but plus loads of Boston accent—what’s more American than that?
On the other side of the country, you’ll find Dodger Stadium, where the sun doesn’t quit, and neither do the fans. Sitting in Chavez Ravine feels like soaking in a giant tub of nostalgia. Dodger Dogs sizzle in the Southern California sun. And there’s that beautiful symphony of honking cars trying to get out of the parking lot before the ninth inning. Classic behavior. The stadium views—breathtaking. As you chew on your overpriced popcorn and glance across the palm trees, you realize, sometimes, the view is part of the game.

If you’ve been lucky enough to meander over to Wrigley Field, you’ll know it’s a mix of ivy-covered walls and curses long broken. Wrigley doesn’t pretend to be modern or cutting-edge, and that’s its secret weapon. It doesn’t need high-tech gadgets when it has charm. You could say it’s the baseball equivalent of an old rock band still touring with all original members—a little bit frayed but absolutely iconic.