(photo/alandeckerphoto.com)

It’s your house, Tony,” shouts a fan. “No, it’s your house,” Tony shouts back. A good-natured rhubarb at home plate signals the 7:11 p.m. March 11 beginning of baseball in San Diego 2004 and the opening of Petco Park.

After five years, $453.4 million and a divisional series worth of lawsuits, the largest crowd in college baseball history sold out the ballpark to watch Tony’s Aztecs beat John Moores’ alma mater, the University of Houston. Larry Lucchino flew in from Boston to bounce the first pitch in to home plate and have a look around.

Technically, it’s our house, 70 percent owned by the city of San Diego and 30 percent by the Padres for 30 years. Then it’s wholly owned by the city. The ballpark anchors Downtown, providing a hefty landmark and vantage point for big city views of bay, skyscrapers, Convention Center and, from the left field concourse, the shimmering lights of the Coronado Bridge.

At night when the fog rolls in, it’s easy to see how they say Petco is a pitcher’s park: the ball needs a booster rocket (or a juiced batter?) to slice through the damp air. But look at these fences: 334 feet at the left-field pole, 322 down the right field line. A pitcher removed from the game may head directly for the Gaslamp. The power alleys are 400 plus feet, but the outfield fence is so low that center fielders may need Gumby arms to keep line drives in the field of play.

Here’s the lowdown:

Getting There

Trolley? Car? Bus? Water taxi? Whatever happened to those jet packs the comic books said would be standard equipment in the 21st Century? The trolley parking lots backed up in Old Town and Mission Valley. San Diegans like their space, and aren’t used to “straphanging.” Solution: pretend you’re an extra in “Seinfeld.” Anyway, that’s why they call it mass transit.

Driving to Petco Park for me was pretty much a straight shot from Park Boulevard. Going south, you’ll be forced to go either left or right at City College. Right takes you into Downtown on B Street, but that’s out of the way, so bear left and turn right on 14th Street for a no traffic bee line right into a Petco-adjacent parking lot. (For opening night, the lot was $10, but will likely be closer to $17 for Padres games.)

There is another way. Someone who is not going to the game can drop you off. It worked when you were a kid. Yes, it may cost if you have to provide an incentive, but consider it an investment. If you don’t have time to waste, and can’t abide lines, door-to-door service is always best.

Being There

Concessions still visit the seats at Petco Park. (photo/alandeckerphoto.com)

Chances are, you will not compare Petco to Pac Bell, Coors Field or any of the Camden Yard (Baltimore) type stadiums; you will compare it to Qualcomm, which does not even qualify as a baseball stadium by today’s standards.

Overheard conversation: “It’s like a minor league stadium.”

“Yeah, but in a good way.”

With 42,500 seats, roughly a third less than Qualcomm, Petco is designed to bring the action closer to the fans. Because the back of the stadium opens up into the fabled and still under construction Park at the Park, Petco feels less closed-in than the Q. From the concourses, there are views of the bay, the bridge, the skyline, Balboa Park, and the eastern mountains.

It won’t get much coverage in sports sections, but architect Antoine Predock conceived of the park as a “garden within a (city) garden.” The stone and stucco exterior evokes California sand, and there’s a sea of blue seats. But wait, it gets exotic. The sandstone used on the exterior was quarried in India, to make it look like the cliffs at Torrey Pines.

Executive/sport architect HOK Sport met the challenge of bringing the ballpark lower and closer to the action, while complying with the state’s earthquake code. The Toyota Terrace Level and Upper Deck are built on 56-foot cantilevers, 20 feet longer than had been previously attempted. The result is upper deck proximity to the field reminiscent of old ballparks but without the pillars.

For baseball fans and non-, Petco is a pleasant spot to chase the scenery, including the Western Metal Supply Company Building, which dates back to 1909 and now houses a restaurant and Padres team store. Any ball hit onto the building will be said to have achieved “heavy metal.”

The outfield offers opportunity for mingling at the Beach, a strip of sand near center field, and in bleacher seats called “beachers.” As San Diegans are credited with inventing “the wave,” whole new art forms may be invented out there.

The main scoreboard is 34 feet high by 80 feet wide; we get to watch the Padres and ourselves on a video screen 30 feet high by 53 feet wide. Imagine giving up a home run and having the manager come get you on a video screen 30 feet high.

The left and right field corners are asymmetrical, reminiscent of older ballparks. Quirkiness is now built in to modern ballpark construction, the way certain bumpers or targets were built into pinball machines.

Overheard conversation: “Brian Giles is going to have a hell of a time in that wicked right corner.”

I did not have the opportunity to visit the numerous snack stands, courts and bars around the ballpark, but there are issues.

If I were doing Petco’s concessions, I’d merge the artistry of the fish taco operation at South Beach Bar in Ocean Beach with the efficiency of the line for Kirkland pizza, Hebrew National hot dogs and lattes at Costco.

Beer is $6. There are six San Diego County Credit Union ATMs in the park.

Add sunshine, ballplayers and stir.

Getting Out Of There

Your ride there may not be able to drive you home. People have lives, you know. For research purposes, I was determined to use public transit. One of the benefits of Qualcomm was being able to leave in the sixth inning, beat the traffic home and be seated comfortably on the sofa in time to watch Hoffman close them out.

There was supposed to be a cab stand in operation at 10th and K (roughly in center field), but no one had yet told the cabbies. A kiosk said two buses could take me to midtown but some other mode of transportation would be needed to seal the deal.

For a moment, I felt totally alone and without plans in the heart of the city. Inside the ballpark, the crowd roared.

I circled the ballpark and headed for the Gaslamp, where the cabbies were lined up. Twelve minutes and as many bucks later, I was toasting Petco Park from the comfort of my recliner.

Some things never change.