Fenway Park is ancient. This is part of its appeal. It’s the oldest ballpark in major league baseball, it’s built like no other, and we Red Sox fans are so rabid and so engrossed in our traditions that we are rabidly conservative about changes to it. The pars of it that are ancient we rightly think give it its charm.
But there are aspects of its ancientness that are less than charming: just ask anyone who ever used the left-field mens bathroom up until about 1995. (Think circular firing-squad.) The plumbing and drainage are apparently ancient, but not even in a good way: at least the Roman water works worked for thousands of years. These are lucky if they make it to the all-star break. It’s also a comparatively tiny ballpark, though no longer the tiniest. And while its small size does give an intimate feeling that you might not get at, say, Olympiastadion in Berlin, the upper limit on this feeling would not be reached by adding another 15,000 seats to the place.
So how to do it?