What you see above is the garish monstrosity of "art" that currently resides beyond the outfield fences of Marlins Park in the new MLB ball park in Miami.
I know it's Miami and all, but that sculpture, if we have permission to call it that, looks like something a drunk and stoned hippy marine biologist, who was told by one of his esteem-building grade school art teachers that he was "artistic," cooked up in a hazy stupor one Saturday night when the Marlins owner was throwing a party at his pad, and the Marlins owner--sunburned, dehydrated, and wanting, as he said, to think "outside the box"--after a long rambling conversation with our artistic marine biologist friend (let's just call him "Phil."), said, "Sure, let's go with day-glo green on the walls. I like your thinking. And I also want to commission the psychedelic homage to Miami sculpture you've pitched to me. [Burp!] Honey, could you get me another Dos Equis, and Phil, pass the hashish."
I've been to what many people consider the worst MLB ball park out there: Tropicana Field. I've often compared that park to watching a baseball game in bathtub with a roof. It's not a good place to see a game.
After watching part of one game played at the Miami ball park recently, I think "the Trop" has some competition.
That thing in the outfield looks like some monstrous version of bric-a-brac one might find in a crappy souvenir store somewhere on the Florida coast. That shizz is damn ugly.
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