Burgundy and Gold: The End of RFK Stadium
DC has always been this city in the midst of a relatively benevolent identity crisis. I think a lot of that comes from having a new administration every four to eight years changing up the organizational landscape of the town and its workforce continually. Another factor is that the District of Columbia, as a habitable establishment rather than just the center of the federal government, really didn't come into its own until the New Deal and subsequent Second World War as the Roosevelt Administration expanded the role and size of the federal government leading many to move to city to live and work; a metropolis born from poverty and wartime.
Despite this boom, DC has never been a particularly big city and endured great damage, both structurally and psychologically, during the race riots of the late 1960s and general civil unrest that saw many major American cities descend into crime throughout the 1970s; as Mayor, Marion Barry once bragged that upon the removal of murder statistics, the crime rate in DC wasn't all that bad. For years, no one thought twice that the city's basketball team was named the Washington Bullets because, in those days, it just fit.
As gentrification reared its head in the 90s, DC changed too. The tale of two cities aspect is still there, the brick rowhouses amidst grand marble buildings with a distinct postmodern architectural flair but the makeup of downtown went corporate. I was walking down 14th from Metro Center over the weekend and it was kind of dolled up like Midtown Manhattan which made me chuckle a bit because DC has never felt even close to New York City to me.
Of course, certain institutions have been lost to gentrification over the decades from the Washington Coliseum (Where The Beatles played their first ever concert in America), the original 9:30 Club (First located on F Street before relocating to V in the 90s), and the Robert Francis Kennedy Memorial Stadium over next to the DC Armory. Home at one time or another of many of the city's professional sports teams, it saw its last official event with our soccer team, DC United this past weekend leaving the venue without a professional sports team calling it home for the first time in its history.
I'll be honest and clear: I've never actually been to a DC United game in my entire life. It hasn't been a conscious decision, it just never happened. I regret not catching United when I had the chance; they were the team with the longest uninterrupted tenure at the venue.
What I did go to RFK for was to watch the Washington Nationals make their debut after the franchise transformed from the Montreal Expos. I had been to ballgames all throughout my childhood at Camden Yards up in Baltimore but the history of DC baseball really lay within the former District of Columbia Stadium. The Washington Senators had played in the stadium for years and years and, even long after they became the Texas Rangers, the seats where ballplayers had knocked back soaring home runs were colored white to commemorate the point; the white paint having grown paler with time leaving the seats looking like specters among seas of burgundy and gold.
Of course, nothing gold can stay and after a couple summers of taking my sister and/or my friends to RFK, the Nats opened up their own impressive venue in the Navy Yards which is where they've called home ever since. Fortunately, I can say I had one more time I ventured into the venerable DC arena in what I know now was a sendoff of sorts for me and a hell of a strong memory to end with.
On Independence Day in 2015, the Foo Fighters announced they would officially be kicking off the tour for their then-latest album (Sonic Highways) with a Fourth of July all-day festival at RFK. It was a full-on event with fans tailgating in the parking lots, a motor show taking up the morning portion of the holiday before the stage was set and a lineup that included DC-local acts like RDGLDGRN and go-go legends Trouble Funk alongside rock and roll vanguard Gary Clark, Jr., iconic blues guitarist Buddy Guy, recent Hall of Fame inductees Heart and Joan Jett, and (of course) the Dave Grohl-helmed Foos.
It was a beautiful day...up until a massive thunderstorm brought the concert to a standstill leaving the audience (myself included) taking shelter in the concourse until things blew over. As we ventured back on to the stands after getting the all clear, Gary Clark, Jr. wearing his trademark cowboy hat and brown poncho took the stage, the dirty overdriven riff of Bright Lights echoing across the empty arena as fans filtered back in with steam rising off the field that only a summer rain in DC can deliver. If there was any doubt that rock and roll could save your mortal soul, that notion was cleansed from my mind with this display.
The rest of the concert went without a hitch with Dave Grohl still managing to rally the fans from his rock and roll version of the Iron Throne only adorned with guitar necks instead of blades; he had severely broken his leg playing a show in Scandinavia and playing from a chair was the only way the band was able to tour. Reflecting on 20 years of playing with the band and growing up in the DC-area he started hitting those familiar chords to Times Like These on an acoustic guitar as the rest of the band stayed hidden in the shadows.
"No matter what's going on out there, right now, all of us and the music...in this moment...well, it's not so bad at all." he smiled wistfully before singing the opening verse both a call to his own past of easier days and a declaration to move forward. With a crash, the rest of the band joined him on the chorus and the audience sang along at the top of their lungs. As the band closed out the night with Everlong, red and white fireworks fired over the stadium casting a pyrotechnical light out over the eastern part of the district.
I stepped out into the night amidst of a downpour of ash and smoke from that annual display, a pyrrhic finale to the stadium. I didn't know it then as I walked back through the streets of NE, but that would be the last time I ever set foot in RFK. And, while I regret never seeing DC United play, I kind of love going out on that note. Thanks for the memories.
Despite this boom, DC has never been a particularly big city and endured great damage, both structurally and psychologically, during the race riots of the late 1960s and general civil unrest that saw many major American cities descend into crime throughout the 1970s; as Mayor, Marion Barry once bragged that upon the removal of murder statistics, the crime rate in DC wasn't all that bad. For years, no one thought twice that the city's basketball team was named the Washington Bullets because, in those days, it just fit.
As gentrification reared its head in the 90s, DC changed too. The tale of two cities aspect is still there, the brick rowhouses amidst grand marble buildings with a distinct postmodern architectural flair but the makeup of downtown went corporate. I was walking down 14th from Metro Center over the weekend and it was kind of dolled up like Midtown Manhattan which made me chuckle a bit because DC has never felt even close to New York City to me.
Of course, certain institutions have been lost to gentrification over the decades from the Washington Coliseum (Where The Beatles played their first ever concert in America), the original 9:30 Club (First located on F Street before relocating to V in the 90s), and the Robert Francis Kennedy Memorial Stadium over next to the DC Armory. Home at one time or another of many of the city's professional sports teams, it saw its last official event with our soccer team, DC United this past weekend leaving the venue without a professional sports team calling it home for the first time in its history.
I'll be honest and clear: I've never actually been to a DC United game in my entire life. It hasn't been a conscious decision, it just never happened. I regret not catching United when I had the chance; they were the team with the longest uninterrupted tenure at the venue.
What I did go to RFK for was to watch the Washington Nationals make their debut after the franchise transformed from the Montreal Expos. I had been to ballgames all throughout my childhood at Camden Yards up in Baltimore but the history of DC baseball really lay within the former District of Columbia Stadium. The Washington Senators had played in the stadium for years and years and, even long after they became the Texas Rangers, the seats where ballplayers had knocked back soaring home runs were colored white to commemorate the point; the white paint having grown paler with time leaving the seats looking like specters among seas of burgundy and gold.
Of course, nothing gold can stay and after a couple summers of taking my sister and/or my friends to RFK, the Nats opened up their own impressive venue in the Navy Yards which is where they've called home ever since. Fortunately, I can say I had one more time I ventured into the venerable DC arena in what I know now was a sendoff of sorts for me and a hell of a strong memory to end with.
On Independence Day in 2015, the Foo Fighters announced they would officially be kicking off the tour for their then-latest album (Sonic Highways) with a Fourth of July all-day festival at RFK. It was a full-on event with fans tailgating in the parking lots, a motor show taking up the morning portion of the holiday before the stage was set and a lineup that included DC-local acts like RDGLDGRN and go-go legends Trouble Funk alongside rock and roll vanguard Gary Clark, Jr., iconic blues guitarist Buddy Guy, recent Hall of Fame inductees Heart and Joan Jett, and (of course) the Dave Grohl-helmed Foos.
It was a beautiful day...up until a massive thunderstorm brought the concert to a standstill leaving the audience (myself included) taking shelter in the concourse until things blew over. As we ventured back on to the stands after getting the all clear, Gary Clark, Jr. wearing his trademark cowboy hat and brown poncho took the stage, the dirty overdriven riff of Bright Lights echoing across the empty arena as fans filtered back in with steam rising off the field that only a summer rain in DC can deliver. If there was any doubt that rock and roll could save your mortal soul, that notion was cleansed from my mind with this display.
The rest of the concert went without a hitch with Dave Grohl still managing to rally the fans from his rock and roll version of the Iron Throne only adorned with guitar necks instead of blades; he had severely broken his leg playing a show in Scandinavia and playing from a chair was the only way the band was able to tour. Reflecting on 20 years of playing with the band and growing up in the DC-area he started hitting those familiar chords to Times Like These on an acoustic guitar as the rest of the band stayed hidden in the shadows.
"No matter what's going on out there, right now, all of us and the music...in this moment...well, it's not so bad at all." he smiled wistfully before singing the opening verse both a call to his own past of easier days and a declaration to move forward. With a crash, the rest of the band joined him on the chorus and the audience sang along at the top of their lungs. As the band closed out the night with Everlong, red and white fireworks fired over the stadium casting a pyrotechnical light out over the eastern part of the district.
I stepped out into the night amidst of a downpour of ash and smoke from that annual display, a pyrrhic finale to the stadium. I didn't know it then as I walked back through the streets of NE, but that would be the last time I ever set foot in RFK. And, while I regret never seeing DC United play, I kind of love going out on that note. Thanks for the memories.
