By plano 
I had heard about the Kino Veterans Memorial Stadium before, but never had the chance to go. Some people said it was more than just a stadium, that it had a special atmosphere. Last weekend, I decided to drive there to see for myself. Although it was a long drive and the weather was hot, I wanted to experience it firsthand and see if it was worth it.
I left early in the morning in my old pickup truck. The Arizona sun was particularly intense, and the road was covered in softened asphalt. It took me almost an hour to find the place. The parking lot was called “Dust Bowl Lane,” which sounded pretty desolate. The parking fee was $10, which wasn’t too expensive, but the area was covered in sand, and my car was completely covered in dust after parking.
I was already sweating when I got out of the car, but as soon as I approached the stadium, it felt different.
Even before entering the gate, I could smell the old stadium—hot dogs, popcorn, and a hint of beer.The walls were made of old bricks and looked well-worn. There was a large banner hanging at the entrance with the names of veterans, their military unit numbers, and their years of service.
It didn’t feel like a modern, shiny stadium, but rather like I had stepped back in time several decades.
I didn’t go straight to the stands, but walked around slowly. There were small signs along the roadside with stories about local veterans. I stopped to read one: a 19-year-old young man who was sent to the front lines just a few weeks after graduating from high school and never returned.
After reading it, I stood there for a long time, unable to say a word.
I walked into the main hall and saw an inconspicuous room in the corner with a sign that read “Memorial Exhibition Area.” Inside, I found old military uniforms, letters written by soldiers, and old black-and-white photos.
What surprised me most was a real World War II jeep parked in the center of the room. The body was scratched and the paint was peeling off. I reached out and touched it. It felt very heavy, as if I could touch that piece of history.
Outside, there was a long wall engraved with names. Each name represented someone who had served in the military. At the foot of the wall were several bouquets of flowers, and someone had left a baseball cap and a photo.
The wind blew, and the sand hit the wall, making a rustling sound. I stood there, not saying a word, not wanting to leave.
I passed under a shade and heard two elderly people talking. They were wearing old military uniforms and talking about their friends who had served with them.
One said, “When Jimmy left, his wife was pregnant, and he never even got to see his child.”
The other nodded, said nothing, and just stared at the field.
I quietly walked away, not wanting to disturb them, but those words stayed in my mind.
In the corner of the field was an old scoreboard with the clock stopped at 7:15. No one repaired it or replaced it. The staff said it was to commemorate a special game, and that day, some veterans had returned to the field to watch the game.
The clock didn’t move, but its meaning remained. Some moments are worth remembering.
Near left field, I saw an ordinary wooden bench with a line of small words carved into it: “Dedicated to Dad. He taught me how to catch a ball here. I miss you at every game.”
It was just a simple sentence, nothing profound, but it felt very real. I sat down, tied my shoelaces, and ended up sitting there for twenty minutes. My mind was filled with memories of watching games with my family when I was a child.
To be honest, this stadium isn’t new. The walls are peeling, the floor is uneven in places, and the restrooms aren’t very clean. It’s not like a newly built, luxurious venue with air conditioning and big screens.
But it’s precisely because it hasn’t been renovated that it retains its old charm. You can feel that many stories have taken place here, not just games, but also emotions between people.
Before leaving, I bought a bottle of soda at the snack bar. It was a little warm, but it tasted good. When I got back to the car, the sun was even stronger, and my clothes were soaked.
But my mood was completely different from when I arrived. Before, I just wanted to “go to a stadium,” but now I felt like I had participated in a quiet memorial ceremony.
If you just want to watch a lively game, this may not be the place for you. But if you want to experience a bit of history and hear the stories of ordinary people, this place is worth a visit.
You don’t need much time, just two or three hours is enough. Bring some water, wear comfortable shoes, and take your time walking and looking around.
If you go, remember to look for the bench with the inscription on the left side of the outfield. It doesn’t have to be a military family; everyone has their own memories of “my dad teaching me how to play ball.”
Sit there quietly for a few minutes, and you’ll understand that the significance of some places isn’t about how beautiful they are, but what they remind you of.
Gino Veterans Memorial Stadium isn’t a tourist attraction or a commercial stadium. It’s a place to pause.
Here, the game isn’t the most important thing; it’s the people who are remembered.
If you have the time, I really recommend visiting once. Not to check it off your list, but to spend a quiet moment there.
florida