Love it while you can, because the Cardinals say it sucks and want it torn down. Given an odd alliance that included Republican mayoral candidate Michael Chance and most liberal of Democrats, Jeanette Mott Oxford, couldn't scrape together enough signatures to put a stadium-replacement proposal up for a public vote this fall, the old ballyard's days do seem numbered. Before it's gone, buy a $10 bleacher ticket and go. Doesn't matter what team is in town. Doesn't matter that you're sitting way, way up. Doesn't matter that the seats are starting to rust. Doesn't matter who's winning. This is the epicenter of the Cardinal Nation, where they wear red and shout as loud as they want from the bleachers, with no corporate types saying, "Be quiet." This is where Bob Gibson ruled and the Wizard backflipped. This is a 35-year-old monument to a community that saw a need and built what it could afford, before bobble-head dolls and hot tubs in the outfield came along. It is a graceful place, with understated arches along the top that tell you in an instant where you are: This is St. Louis.