Place is Important - Where American Stadiums Fail

American sports teams have spent billions on new stadiums, many replacing historic predecessors. Place is important, and new is not always better.

I hate MetLife Stadium. It is a constant reminder of the torment and disappointment of being a lifelong Jets fan. Professionally, I feel the same. Its design prioritizes short-term demands over long-term identity and adaptability. It is a soulless pit that sees excitement only a select few days of the year and otherwise sits stranded and isolated in a sea of pavement. The stadium is cold, void of any character, and adds absolutely nothing to the fan experience. MetLife represents the worst of the recent trend in professional sports stadiums and arenas nationwide. Stadiums are being built as quick fixes with short lifespans. Rather than being disposable entertainment venues, stadiums should be designed as lasting institutions that serve their communities for generations.

MetLife Stadium was built in 2010, kicking off what has now been a two-decade run of new mega-stadiums across the country. Many of these venues stand where historic stadiums, rich in character and tradition, once stood. Sports fans have repeatedly watched their beloved homes get torn down in favor of corporate behemoths. In many cases, new stadiums were inevitable and welcomed. However, a sense of place is important. A stadium should not just be a functional building, but a representation of the history, community, and shared experiences of generations of fans. Yet, we are too quick to discard all of that for the next great thing. New is not always better.

The stadiums built in the middle of the twentieth century are coming to the end of their lifespan. The new wave of sports stadiums seems poised to repeat the same mistakes, built with a finite lifespan in mind. Stadiums should not have a lifespan of only 30, 40, or even 50 years. They should be built as anchors of their communities, evolving with time rather than requiring costly replacements every few decades. Like so much of our other infrastructure, they should be seen as permanent institutions, designed to be upgraded as time passes and the needs of their tenants and communities shift.

Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin is the perfect example of a storied venue evolving alongside the community. Built nearly 70 years ago, it has been continuously modernized to meet the needs of today’s fans without losing its identity. Rather than tearing it down, the team has embraced its legacy, ensuring it remains a historic yet functional stadium. Although it is now the oldest NFL stadium, it consistently ranks among the best fan experiences in the league (Chicago’s Soldier Field is currently the oldest but is slated to be retired in the coming years). Lambeau Field is as much a part of Packers history as the celebratory leap that shares its name.

Lambeau Field has evolved over time, preserving its history while accommodating modern needs.

Compare that to MetLife Stadium. There was no deep emotional loss for Giants Stadium when MetLife replaced it in 2010, but that does not mean the replacement was an improvement. Like other stadium projects across the country, it failed to learn the lessons of its predecessors. Despite its scale and cost, MetLife lacks the accommodations fans expect. Less than 15 years after its completion, it ranks dead last in fan experience surveys, trailing even far older stadiums. It’s reasonable to expect that this $1.6 billion stadium will be considered completely outdated within the next decade and scraped less than 30 years after its opening. This will be a huge missed opportunity and an entirely unnecessary waste of political and financial capital.

(Perhaps MetLife’s biggest failure is its lack of access to public transportation. With only 13 months until the World Cup, I am dreading the unavoidable international embarrassment. More to come on that.)

Billions are being spent on new stadiums, and owners and planners alike are taking the opportunity to enclose them from the elements. While these are entertainment venues built to provide a controlled fan experience, something is lost when the weather is removed from the game itself. The Buffalo Bills, for example, will undoubtedly lose some of their home-field advantage when they move inside their new bubble for the 2026 season. The lake-effect snow is as much a part of the Bills’ identity as the insatiable Bills Mafia.

Washington, D.C. is the latest city undergoing the complex process of building a new stadium. The Commanders football club plans to build its new stadium on the site of the long-abandoned RFK Stadium. This alone is a win for the city. Returning the football team to its namesake city rather than leaving it stranded in a distant suburb restores a critical connection to its fanbase. After years of underuse, this parcel of land will once again serve a purpose. Thankfully, it already has WMATA connections, though they remain inadequate.

First look at the proposed Washington Commander’s Stadiums leaves a lot to be desired

While the location decision is a step forward, the stadium design itself falls flat. Sports teams are extensions of their city’s history and pride, and their stadiums should reflect that connection. The renderings released last week evoke the feeling of a bulbous structure awkwardly placed on the waterfront. That’s hardly the image that comes to mind when thinking about Washington, D.C., a city with one of the most recognizable and unique architectural identities in the country. The current proposal fails to incorporate D.C.’s distinctive aesthetic, opting instead for a structure that might as well be anywhere.

Camden Yards, home to MLB’s Baltimore Orioles, borrows the classic brick façade to seamlessly integrate into the surrounding downtown landscape.

Another example of failed stadium planning is Barclays Center in Brooklyn. Built in 2015 for the Brooklyn Nets, it was designed as a basketball and music venue without consideration for any other sport. When the Islanders temporarily relocated to Barclays in 2016, the arena was woefully ill-fitted for hockey, with more than 30% of seating having obstructed views. A similar situation has arisen in Salt Lake City, where the newly introduced Utah Mammoth NHL team is set to play at Delta Center, the home of the Utah Jazz. While constructing multi-purpose stadiums can be expensive, failing to plan for adaptability is a major mistake.

These facilities should not be built for just one tenant. They must be designed to meet community needs, both now and in the future. Whether we like it or not, sports are one of the strongest extensions of a city’s civic identity. The stadium should represent the community, not just the interests of the franchise. This is especially true when public funds are involved.

Modern stadiums are designed for rapid obsolescence rather than long-term sustainability. They are placed in isolated entertainment districts that lack any connection to the cities they are meant to serve, forcing fans into sprawling parking lots and sterile event spaces devoid of local character. The best stadiums become integral to their surrounding community, not just event venues but cultural institutions. They are places where generations of fans gather for defining moments, where civic pride is reinforced through shared experience.

Instead of demolishing stadiums every 30 years, we should be designing them to evolve alongside their cities. Whenever possible, historic stadiums should be updated and adapted to modern expectations. The LA Coliseum, Fenway Park, and Wrigley Field are perfect examples of stadiums that remain beloved destinations while being carefully upgraded to meet contemporary standards. A stadium built today should be planned with the next century in mind, ensuring adaptability, long-term relevance, and deep ties to the city’s architectural and social fabric. Cities that fail to consider this will continue throwing billions at temporary structures, never building stadiums that truly matter.