Mellon Arena: The Beginning of the End
Driving past the soon-to-be Consol Energy Center earlier, I had been awed by its glittery, glistening glory. The glass walls and sharp angles seem so new and promising. I commented on how impressive it looks - how exciting it looks - but there I was just a short while later lamenting the loss of that sense of "home" that can only be found under the dome.
Sure, the steps are a bit steep and your knees are always smashed by the back of the unforgiving plastic seat in front of you. Yeah, the concrete walls are darkened with layers of soot and odd puddles of water gather in random spots on the floor. Of course, the jumbo-tron is too small. The roof isn't as shiny as it could be (hell, it doesn't even open anymore), the walkways don't make much sense, and the overhangs are inconveniently placed for people sitting below them. It may be the smallest arena used by the NHL, but I'll be goddamned if it isn't somehow quintessentially "Pittsburgh" in all its imperfect perfection.
This is a city of labor, where the true color of brick is hidden beneath centuries of filth and where, for the most part, people tend to keep their heads down and focused, while still coming together often to celebrate or commiserate - whichever is necessary in the moment. Personified, Pittsburgh has always seemed to my like the father who depends on his hands to survive, but who, after a long day of work, sits by a bare bulb studying big ideas and contemplating beautiful images. We aren't resistant to change; we're more ambivalent, with a "so it goes" kind of attitude. The buildings, the bridges, the rivers - these things keep us connected to the past here, and it is because of these things that we somehow stay connected to one another. To me, the Mellon Arena (which I still - and most likely always will - refer to as the Civic Arena) is one of those staples that bonds us together as a city. And with a trio of recent and impressive buildings in the city (Heinz Field, PNC Park, and the Convention Center), the little round arena that could is the last of a dying breed.
Sitting amongst the cheering crowd, I suddenly envisioned what it would like inside the stadium on its last days - a great empty circle, the roar of innumerable crowds echoing off empty walls. The banners and jerseys having been taken down, carefully folded, and shipped over to their new, glittering home across the street. 17,000 empty seats that had once been filled with people whose hearts were in their throats as they listened to music that changed their life or watched a game that they wanted to win with more passion than they ever gave to any other part of their life.
I looked out at the ring of people around me, all of whom were looking down at the same thing - all looking, effectively, at each other - and I realized that it would soon be gone. And I was sad.
Rolling through the last 25 years in my mind, I began listing the moments I have had in the old arena. My first concert when I was in first grade (Debbie Gibson), family outings to the circus or to the Ice Capades, the various concerts that I went to in a year where music and friends meant more to me than ever, playing with/in various orchestras and musicians, professional wrestling matches in all their horrifying glory, and all of the delicious, delicious hockey... Times filled with nervousness, anticipation, sheer joy, friendship, tears of loss, and cries of triumph. Will any new structure, no matter how shiny and expensive, be able to recreate any of these moments?
Walking away from the game, fireworks (can it be a true Pittsburgh moment without fireworks?) were set off over the arena, and I turned to look at a building that has meant a lot in my life. In my mind, I saw the clean, sparkling dome as it once must have looked, and then I turned and walked away, facing the glittering structure across the street. Next year, I will surely be at the first game in the new arena, dazzled by all of the shine and marveling at the glamor, but I think a big piece of me - and this city - will always miss the simple, little igloo across the street.
Posted by Amanda at 10/3/2009 9:35 PM 
Categories: Random
Tags: hockey opener penguins pittsburgh goodbye demolition Mellon Arena sad concerts Civic Arena Consol Energy Center
Categories: Random
Tags: hockey opener penguins pittsburgh goodbye demolition Mellon Arena sad concerts Civic Arena Consol Energy Center
Beautifully said!......BUT I feel bad.
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I'm not even a hockey fan (nor have I spent much time in the arena) and I feel such a sentimental loss. I wish I could express myself with the written word the way that you do Amanda.
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Nice...but dont give up on the big igloo (it really is a small building when you compare it to the big boxes...) it has soft shoulders and a great mohawk
Please join the cause and write the Mario. the mayor and governor!
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