Why It’s Time for Major League Baseball in San Antonio

And why the old limestone quarry just off Vance Jackson might be the perfect place to build it.

First, let me apologize for the length of this post. I know your time is valuable. But to fully explain why this idea makes so much sense—and why I believe it can transform San Antonio—I need to take you on a bit of a journey. Stick with me. I think you’ll be glad you did.

I grew up in northern New Jersey, just a few miles from the George Washington Bridge and not much farther from Yankee Stadium. Like so many kids from the area, I was a proud, passionate Yankee fan. And even though the stadium wasn’t far as the crow flies, getting there always felt like crossing the Alps. Stop-and-go traffic, bridge tolls, aggressive drivers, overpriced parking—it was a gauntlet, especially for a wide-eyed kid.

Once inside, though, Yankee Stadium was electric. Same with Shea Stadium, where we’d occasionally catch a Mets game near the old site of the 1965 World’s Fair. But the journey to and from always felt like a chore. As great as those ballparks were, they felt like fortresses—monuments that loomed over the neighborhood rather than blending into it.

Then came Boston.

In April of 1978, I was a freshman at Northeastern University. A friend invited me to a Red Sox game, and I was all in. We walked across The Fens, down a street lined with brownstones, and came upon what I assumed was just another old brick building. I was wrong. It was Fenway Park.

Fenway is a ballpark like no other. It doesn’t announce itself—it just exists. Nestled into the rhythm of the neighborhood, it feels like it’s always been there. You could walk right past it and not know, unless you caught the glint of the stadium lights or the crack of a bat. Inside, it’s intimate and human. It’s not just a place where baseball is played—it’s a place where baseball lives. And that experience stuck with me.

Years later, I was living in the Bay Area. We’d watch the Giants at Candlestick Park—cold, windy, and frankly miserable. Eventually, they moved downtown to a gleaming new stadium. Better, but it came with sky-high prices and awful parking. The A’s, on the other hand, were still at their aging Coliseum. So we became season ticket holders. Not because the facility was great—it wasn’t—but because the fans were. The vibe was familial, grounded. Everyone there cared. It reminded me of Fenway’s charm, minus the architecture.

Fast-forward to now. During the pandemic, we relocated to Fair Oaks Ranch, just north of San Antonio. And honestly, we love it here. But we do miss two things from California: walking our dogs on the beach… and going to A’s games.

So, a couple years ago, I took my younger son to Houston to see an Astros vs. A’s game. This is where the story shifts gears.

Minute Maid Park in Houston is impressive. It integrates into the neighborhood in a way that avoids the imposing “cathedral on a hill” effect you get in New York. It feels like it belongs. But there’s a catch. When the game ends and the fans head out, the surrounding area goes quiet—eerily so. The life fades. There’s no lingering sense of place. It’s a shell between games.

Fenway, by contrast, pulses with energy even when empty. You can feel the heartbeat. Houston got close. But Fenway shows what’s truly possible.

So Why Not San Antonio?

This city is a master of reinvention.

• The Alamo Quarry Market? Once industrial—now retail, restaurants, and golf.
• The Pearl? A brewery reborn into a cultural mecca.
• Six Flags Fiesta Texas and La Cantera? Both built on the bones of limestone quarries.
• The Rim? Same story: from rock to retail.

And just east of The Rim, along Vance Jackson and Loop 1604, there’s one more quarry—nearing its end-of-life. It’s vast. Central. Accessible. And it’s ready for its next act.

I have a vision: a ballpark built into the quarry, not towering above it. Think Fenway meets modern engineering. A stadium that’s an organic part of the neighborhood, not an alien spaceship dropped in from above. One that feels personal, human, and accessible.

We wouldn’t just be building a stadium—we’d be fulfilling the promise whispered in Field of Dreams:

“If you build it, they will come.”

And not just baseball fans. Restaurants lining both foul lines would offer year-round views into the field, drawing diners long after the ninth inning. Above those: executive offices and suites. Behind the outfield? Affordable, day-of-game-only seating. A way for families, first responders, veterans, and active-duty military to enjoy the game without breaking the bank.

Imagine a retractable dome for comfort, a two-story design that complements the landscape, not competes with it. Not a monolith, but a magnet.

Getting There Would Be a Dream

The I-10 and Loop 1604 interchange is undergoing a massive overhaul:

• A five-level “Texas stack” interchange
• Eight flyovers
• HOV lanes
• Continuous-flow intersections (dubbed “fidget spinners”)
• Bike and pedestrian infrastructure

This area is ready for high-volume traffic. But there’s more.

Running along Vance Jackson is a short-line freight railroad—the Alamo Gulf Coast Railroad—that connects to the historic Union Pacific Kerrville Subdivision. It goes south toward downtown San Antonio. It’s active. It works. But what if it became a light rail line?

Picture this:

• Passenger stops from the southeast side to the city’s edge
• New transit-oriented communities
• Affordable housing for first-time buyers
• Reliable transportation for youth, the elderly, and the disabled
• And on game days? A straight shot to the ballpark

The Market Is Ready

The area is surrounded by opportunity:

• 20 upscale apartment complexes filled with high-earning professionals
• 19 hotels within a couple of miles
• An ever-expanding corridor of entertainment stretching from SeaWorld to the JW Marriott resort

This isn’t a vacant lot—it’s the missing puzzle piece.

San Antonio by the Numbers

Let’s talk stats:

• City population: 1.53 million (7th largest in U.S.)
• Metro population: 2.7+ million (24th largest, and climbing fast)
• Population growth: +22,000 in a single year (4th fastest in the nation)
• TV Market: 31st in U.S. (1.09 million households)
• Radio Market: 25th (2.3 million+ listeners)
• Tourism: 32 million+ visitors/year, $13.6 billion impact
• Jobs: 130,000+ tourism-related
• Corporate Base: USAA, H-E-B, Valero, more
• Cultural Engagement: 64% Latino population—one of the strongest baseball fan bases in America

And did I mention? San Antonio already has one of the most loyal sports fanbases in the NBA thanks to the Spurs. The baseball appetite is here. The population is here. The growth is here.

All we’re missing… is the team.

One More Thing

I’ll be the first to admit: I have the vision, but I don’t have the capital, the political connections, or the executive background to make this happen on my own.

But maybe you do. Or maybe you know someone who does. That’s how movements begin—one idea passed from one believer to another.

Final ‘Pitch‘ (And a Call to Action)

This isn’t just a dream. It’s a solution. A stadium that honors San Antonio’s culture of transformation. A transportation corridor that solves more than traffic. A new reason for families, businesses, and tourists to gather in a city already on the rise.

So if this idea resonates with you—if you believe like I do that this is the right time and the right place—then don’t keep it to yourself.

Share it.
Post it.
Send it to someone with vision, means, and influence.

If you build momentum, they will come.