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The Camden Yards Story
Act 1: Memorial Stadium’s Fading Magic Act 2: Departure of the Colts Act 3: Playing the political game Act 4: Design & Construction Act 5: Opening Day, 1992
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Act 1: Memorial Stadium’s Fading Magic Act 2: Departure of the Colts Act 3: Playing the political game Act 4: Design & Construction Act 5: Opening Day, 1992
Videos Images Baltimore’s Ballparks Maps
Contact & Media Inquiries

How we did it

Home Inside the Project How we did it

For two semesters, students at the Shirley Povich Center for Sports Journalism reported this digital history of the creation of Camden Yards. Here are some of their experiences.

Bode Ramsay, Spring 2025

The semester became a constant ebb and flow of activity: emails sent and followed up on; archives sifted through; interviews scheduled, researched and conducted; leads pursued and sometimes abandoned. What began as an abstract assignment slowly transformed into a living history project, pieced together one conversation and one document at a time.

In addition to the demands of research and reporting, I found myself navigating an entirely new challenge: operating interview camera equipment — a responsibility I had never before undertaken.

I was assigned to the design and construction team, alongside Andrew Breza and Henry Lilienfeld. Our focus centered on the architectural and aesthetic decisions that shaped Camden Yards — from the subtle details many fans might overlook, such as the Oriole Park logo cast into the outside of the aisle seats, to the defining structural elements that give the ballpark its character: the intentional integration into Baltimore’s urban landscape and the prominent use of steel in place of the monolithic concrete typical of earlier stadiums.

Preparation for each interview demanded extensive research into the backgrounds, responsibilities and distinguishing contributions of our subjects.

For Kim McCalla, we met at Morgan State University, where we sat and spoke about the many obstacles and experiences McCalla had faced on the construction site, including finding a flintlock gun in the rubble.

However, the most memorable — and, at moments, nerve-wracking — experience of the entire project was our interview with David Ashton, who lived more than an hour and a half from campus in Glen Rock, Pennsylvania.

Henry and I set out early.  The assignment seemed straightforward: drive north, conduct the interview, return. It did not remain straightforward for long.

Off-and-on rain accompanied us across the state line, and by the time we reached rural Pennsylvania — passing long stretches of farmland and houses separated by generous distances — we were no longer entirely confident that our GPS understood where it was sending us.

When we finally located what appeared to be Ashton’s address, it required us to turn off the asphalt and onto a narrow, rocky road muddied by the rain. We approached the house and knocked. The door opened to reveal a man with long gray hair and a matching beard, who regarded us for a moment before asking simply, “You the reporters?” We were. He motioned us inside.

When we asked about lighting for the interview, Ashton replied matter-of-factly: “There are no electrical lights in here.” For two students operating camera and lighting equipment themselves — for the first time — this was less a minor inconvenience and more the precise sentence you hope never to hear five minutes before pressing record.

And yet, once the cameras were rolling, everything changed. Ashton, initially reserved, became animated the moment we began discussing Camden Yards. He spoke with vivid detail, recounting behind-the-scenes moments and interactions we had not encountered in any archive or prior interview. His candor was unfiltered — so much so that, as I later learned, he was the only interview subject in the entire project whose audio required censoring.

His directness was sharp, unapologetic and often unexpectedly funny. In a house without electric lighting, on a muddy road in rural Pennsylvania, we captured some of the most illuminating storytelling of the entire semester.

Looking back, it is almost startling to consider how little I understood that first day in Knight Hall — not only about the history we were about to uncover, but about the experiences that would shape me in the process. What began as an assignment became something far more immersive: a lesson in patience, adaptability and the responsibility that comes with telling someone else’s story well.

Camden Yards will continue to host games, draw crowds and evolve with time. And somewhere within its larger story, our small piece of documentation will remain — a record of how it all began, and of the semester that changed the way I see both journalism and the spaces it seeks to illuminate.

Nyla Cherry, Fall 2025

Clacking keyboards, students hard at work, editors floating around, and Google Docs glowing on screens. This was the scene every Monday in Room 1101 at Knight Hall as students completed their capstone experience. Mark Hyman, Sandy Banisky and Kate Yanchulis did not teach a class, they managed a newsroom.

Students worked in reporting groups of two to three people to conduct research, search picture archives, conduct interviews, fact-check, and work through four rounds of edits to produce stories.

The semester began with a trip to West Camden Street so students could receive a quick crash course on the ballpark. They observed the beloved B&O Warehouse, Eutaw Street, the clubhouse, and suite-level seats. This allowed reporters to give their stories more substance and find their next steps to begin their reporting. Instead of just researching the stadium, students appreciated the opportunity to physically immerse themselves in their project.

“I mean taking pictures, taking notes of all the new, unique parts of Camden Yards informed my work for the rest of the semester,” said junior journalism major Trevor Gomes.

Gomes spent several days scouring the internet and reading what fellow journalists had already written about the ballpark. He then reached out to sources who could help him begin locating ballparks and their respective architects who could explain Oriole Park’s influence. Gomes did not begin writing his story until he felt he was an expert on all things Camden Yards.

“If you're writing about a topic that has had a lot of work already published about that topic, just read it all, become like an expert on the topic,” Gomes said.

Much of the work required students to chase down answers from 30 or 40 years ago — the people who lived these moments may have moved away, retired, or passed away. Students struggled as they sent emails that never elicited a response, followed leads that led to dead ends, and waited through long stretches of silence from sources. Room 1101 flourished as students kept pushing until the right voices finally answered their requests.

“That was definitely the toughest part, trying to find people that would have relevant knowledge, that would also be willing to talk to us, and getting them to reach back out. It was a lot of just trial and error and trying to push the right buttons,” said senior Andrew Rich.

Most class days were built around workshops with drafts circulating and students troubleshooting their stories in real time. Peer feedback was a critical part of the reporting process — writers learned to lean on one another. The collaborative effort pushed students to report more thoroughly and encouraged them to keep going when their own reporting stalled.

Next came the part that separated the course from class writing to real journalism — the edits. Stories did not move in a straight line from reporting to publication. This is where ledes were written and rewritten, paragraph structure shifted, and students learned that editing was not disapproval of their work — but a mere steppingstone in the journalistic process. Enterprise stories take time, and patience quickly becomes part of the job.

Toward the end of the semester was when the project transitioned into its most intense phase: footnoting, fact-checking and verification. Students carefully retraced one another’s steps sifting through transcripts, calling sources to confirm quotes, and reading through websites to protect the integrity of the project they worked so hard on.

Montanna Norman, Fall 2025

Three students spent the Fall 2025 semester working with the ballpark photograph archives housed in the Maryland Room of Hornbake Library.

The work required patience and precision, as students were reminded that these photographs might be some of the only visual records of certain historical moments.

Discovering photographs was a more involved and tedious process than many students initially expected. Opening each folder felt like uncovering a small piece of history, but it also meant methodically sorting through dozens of images that were not always relevant. “I think that some days we hit on some folders that were like gold,” said Phil Vecera, a student on the team. “And other days I couldn’t really find anything.”

Once photographs were located, students carefully reviewed them one by one, evaluating both their historical significance and their value to the project. This stage required attention to detail and forced students to slow down and resist assumptions based on first impressions.

Throughout the semester, students encountered photographs that were unexpectedly impactful. Some images captured quiet moments such as stadium workers preparing the field, players interacting casually, or fans arriving early, that revealed the labor and atmosphere surrounding game days. These photos stood out because they contrasted with the action-focused images typically associated with sports photography. For many students, these discoveries reshaped their understanding of what constitutes a meaningful sports image.

“It was cool to see the history of the modern-day ballpark and what the ballpark used to be and what it used to mean to the people,” said Noah Bland, a senior. Seeing images of those changes firsthand helped contextualize Camden Yards’ lasting impact on sports architecture and fan culture.

Collaboration also played a major role throughout the project. Students regularly shared discoveries, discussed selections, and asked one another questions during class sessions. The collective approach strengthened final decisions and helped students identify which images were worthy of selection.

By the end of the semester, students had a better understanding of how archival work connects directly to journalism. The project showed that sports history isn’t just stored away but shaped by the choices people make about what to save and how to present it in impactful ways.

Philip Merrill College of Journalism
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