Dodger Stadium is not an antique. It's not Frank Lloyd Wright. It's a nice place to play baseball, but there are far better.
Enter with the torch in the stadium. 80,000 people screaming. I was waiting downstairs for the start for 10 hours; I was so tired with the torch. I give the torch to the combined ski cross country that they win gold in Lillehammer in 1994.
Enron Field in Houston, the Trans World Dome in St. Louis and PSINet Stadium in Baltimore are just three of the modern-day coliseums named for companies that have found new homes in bankruptcy court.
There's something magical about a home run. It almost violates the space of the stadium. It's a game of the imagination in some ways. Baseball.
Obviously, the big teams create the bigger atmosphere around the stadiums.
I was on the field praising quarterback Dan Fouts during a ceremony to retire his number. Boos began shaking the stadium. It was a moment of misery like I'd never experienced before. Afterward, dejection hung over me for days.
I don't pay attention to target audiences and therefore I often hear that I am a ratings killer, somebody who fundamentally doesn't care whether one person is watching or an entire soccer stadium.
I don't go out at all. I have my three restaurants that I go to, and that's it. I spend the least possibly time here on-site because that takes energy away as well. There is a lot of people, you know. It's massive kind of stadium, a lot of players.
In England, the fans are more spectators than supporters. There's a better atmosphere in French stadiums.
I like the emotion in the English league. You look at the TV, and you see the stadium and the fans.
