Not even the Rooftop is saving the Colorado Rockies now

Maybe, just maybe, Rockies fans have seen enough.

Through one losing season after another, the turnstiles spun. If fans were angry at the Rockies’ chronic wheel-spinning and sub-mediocrity, it didn’t show at the box office.

The Rockies came into this season with six-consecutive top-10 finishes in average attendance (with the exception of 2020, when no fans attended games). The last time the Rockies didn’t finish in MLB’s top half of average attendance was 2007, when the magical late-season run wasn’t enough to overcome low early-season figures.

However, the Rockies entered Wednesday 15th in average attendance.

And in Wednesday’s 14-3 crumbling at the hands of the Pittsburgh Pirates, the Rockies attracted their smallest crowd with the stadium at full capacity in a decade. The team announced a crowd of 18,511 — the first pandemic-unaffected sub-19,000 announced attendance at Coors Field since an 18,341 figure for a game against the New York Mets on April 18, 2013.

Back then, the Rooftop didn’t exist. Dan O’Dowd was still the general manager. Nolan Arenado’s first Major League plate appearance was still 10 days away.

And Charlie Blackmon looked like this:

Yeah, it’s been a minute.

That was the Rockies’ 20th-anniversary season, and the primary topics that season revolved around the promise of Arenado and the constant wondering of when — or even if — the team would trade shortstop Troy Tulowitzki. They waited two more years, and the forgettable trade compensation from Toronto was the price of waiting.

That, of course, is part of the well-told story which led Rockies fans to the most dangerous emotional point any pro-sports franchise faces: apathy.

Sure, the headwinds against the Rockies are strong. Wednesday’s windy, 55-degree weather wasn’t conducive to a day at the ballpark. Denver sports’ fans attention rests elsewhere — understandably so, given that the Avalanche and Nuggets have legitimate championship aspirations.

But those circumstances alone don’t explain this season’s attendance descent. And the night before — when attendance sank below 20,000 — the first-pitch temperature was a pleasant 73 degrees.

Through 10 games, the Rockies’ average announced attendance of 27,395 is 6,304 lower than it was at the same point last season.

That massive season-opening plummet is the second-largest since the Rockies moved to Coors Field in 1995, only exceeded by a drop of 7,674 fans from 2002 to 2003.

Rockies attendance is down 18.71 percent from the same point last year. That percentage drop is also the most in 20 years. And that’s a number that should sound alarms in the corridors at 20th and Blake.

An 18.71-percent drop over the course of the season would mean 492,041 fewer tickets sold throughout the season that last year. And that means fewer fans to pay for parking, drop money at Diamond Dry Goods or belly up to the concession stand for a Helton Burger.

Last year, according to statista.com, it cost a family of four an average of $154.92 to attend a Rockies game. Divide that by four to get an individual cost, and then multiply that by the extrapolated, afore-mentioned season-long attendance plunge, and you get a calamitous number:

$19,056,748.

That’s over $19 million in gross revenue — gone.

And that’s how apathy hurts a club — and gets noticed.

For years, Coors Field itself protected Rockies’ attendance from the malaise that gripped the on-field aspects of the franchise. It remains a first-class place to watch a game. The stadium isn’t merely a jewel of its sport; it is a pillar of Colorado itself. A trip to Coors Field, an upper-deck view of the sunset over the mountains to the west and a Rockie Dog are all part of the Colorado experience in spring and summer.

The Rooftop pushed the entire operation over the top. Other organizations looking to build or renovate their stadiums studied it as a model to follow. Equal parts standing terrace, open-air bar and gathering place, it transformed the game-day experience.

The Rooftop not only refreshed Coors Field, it helped insulate the Rockies. Even as they made their near-annual swan dive toward the bottom of the NL West table, the fun, the vibe, the view and the cocktails helped keep the joint humming.

The number of Colorado transplants who flooded the stadium to watch the team from their former home didn’t hurt, either.

But in 2023, the Rockies are so bad — and apathy is so rampant — that not even the Rooftop can save them.

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