When a man has been a state legislator at 22, a judge at 24, a multi-millionaire at 35 and mayor of a metropolis at 41, what else is there left for him at 53 but to build a suitable monument to himself? For Houston's Kubla Khan, Roy ("Giltfinger") Hofheinz, it obviously had to be a pleasure dome on the order of the Great Pyramid or the Colossus of Rhodes. To Builder Hofheinz, Houston's new, $31.6 million "Astrodome" — the first covered, fully air-conditioned baseball stadium —is literally "the Eighth Wonder of the World." When he showed it off to French Ambassador Hervé Alphand, the ambassador made the mistake of remarking that the Astrodome's lattice work roof reminded him of the Eiffel Tower. Sniffed Hofheinz: "The Eiffel Tower is all right, but you can't play ball there."
Well, they can't in the Astrodome either — in daytime, anyway. Last week its resident tenants, the Houston Astros (formerly the Colt .45s), played their first day game under the steel and plastic dome, against their own Oklahoma City farm hands. As a precautionary measure, outfielders wore batting helmets in the field. They needed them. Unable to follow the flight of the ball against the jigsaw pattern of the roof, the players staggered about like asphyxiated cockroaches as fly ball after fly ball dropped at their feet. When they quit after seven innings, the Astros were ahead 10-3— and six of the runs had been scored on lost fly balls. "It's impossible to play under these conditions," moaned Astro General Manager Paul Richards. "Sure, somebody will win and somebody will lose. But who's kidding whom? This isn't baseball."
Red Glasses & Orange Balls. There was talk of installing blue lights to counteract the sun's glare. The frantic Astros sent out for special red sunglasses and colored baseballs: orange, cherry, yellow. "The orange balls are even worse than the white," reported Manager Lum Harris. Suggestions poured in. "I've had 89 phone calls and 130 wires from as far away as Juneau," Richards sighed. The most sensible came from Johnny Keane, whose New York Yankees arrived in Houston to play an exhibition against the Astros: "Paint the roof," said Keane, "or play all the games at night."
Sure enough, the Yanks and Astros played at night, and nobody so much as muffed a fly. The trouble was trying to hit one. "The ball just doesn't carry here," complained Yankee John Blanchard, swinging mightily and watching the ball settle into the catcher's glove. "It must be mathematical." Pitchers were ecstatic. "My knuckler's never broken better," chortled Houston's Ken Johnson. "This is a pitcher's park."