Perhaps it's best that the park isn't at 30th Street Station, where teams could train directly to its door. "The pet aversions of all Pullman porters are professional baseball players, most of whom are...vulgar and uncouth youths," wrote Stewart H. Holbrook in The Life of the Pullman Porter, published in 1947. In it one porter says, "[The players] tear, up the linen, destroy pillows in their adolescent horseplay, and abuse every piece of equipment aboard. Cattle cars would be too good for a majority of professional baseball players."
Still, if you're weary of removing your shoes and belt before boarding a plane, as if being booked into prison...if the ivy at Wrigley is eclipsed, in your eyes, by the elevated train beyond the rightfield rooftops...if you simply cannot hear a train go by without longing to be on it, then you know that baseball should allow for occasional ties. Railroad ties.
Me, I cabbed to the ballpark from the train station in Philly. The driver didn't recognize the name Citizens Bank Park, which raises the question, What to call it? It seems likely to become, in everyday conversation, the Cit. But true insiders—those of us who were there the first week—will quietly call it the Zen, just as Buck Henry once said that people really close to Hugh Hefner don't call him Hef.
They call him Ner.