Dick Howser Stadium Bag Policy

So there I was, standing in the July sun outside Dick Howser Stadium, juggling a tote bag, a fanny pack, and a half-eaten hot dog. The security guard gave me that look—the one that says, "You didn't read the rules, did you?" I swear, my bag looked innocent enough, but apparently, it was guilty of being four inches too long. And that’s how I learned the hard truth: the Dick Howser Stadium bag policy is a beast you do not want to mess with. (Fun fact: I spent the first inning shoving sunscreen into a clear plastic bag I bought from a vendor for five bucks. You’re welcome for the visual.)

Let’s cut to the chase: this policy is the gatekeeper of your game-day experience. It’s not just a list of dos and don’ts—it’s a survival guide for avoiding a pre-game meltdown. And honestly? It’s simpler than you think, once you get past the initial panic. So grab your (approved) bag, and let’s unpack this thing together.

The Golden Rule: Clear is King

Here’s the deal: Dick Howser Stadium follows the MLB’s standard clear bag policy. That means your bag must be transparent—like, see-through enough that I could spot a rogue peanut from twenty feet away. Think of it as stadium fashion with zero mystery. You’re allowed one clear bag per person, and it can’t be bigger than 12” x 6” x 12”. (Imagine a decent-sized Ziploc on steroids—that’s your sweet spot.)

But wait—there’s a twist. You can also bring a small clutch or a wristlet, but only if it’s no larger than 4.5” x 6.5”. That’s roughly the size of a thick envelope. So if you’re the “just my phone and lip balm” type, you’re golden. But if you’re like me and carry a survival kit? You’re gonna need that clear bag.

What About Diaper Bags and Medical Bags?

I know, I know—life doesn’t stop for baseball. Diaper bags and medical bags are allowed, but they’re subject to separate screening. Translation: you’ll get a more thorough pat-down and a slower line. Pro tip: keep those bags organized before you arrive, or you’ll be that person holding up the queue while a toddler screams for a hot dog. (I’ve been that person. It’s humbling.)

Also, if you have a medical need, bring a doctor’s note or medication in original packaging. Security is trained to be respectful, but they’ll still ask questions. Don’t take it personally—they’re just doing their job, and you want to get to your seat without drama.

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The Forbidden Zones: What’s a Hard No?

Okay, brace yourself: backpacks, coolers, and larger purses are banned. No exceptions. I saw a guy try to sneak in a mini cooler shaped like a baseball—security politely sent him to the car. (It was adorable, but still a no.) Also, any bags with multiple compartments or non-clear materials are out, even if they’re tiny. They check for things like external pockets—that’s where contraband hides, I guess?

And listen: no weapons, no fireworks, no drones. This isn’t a concert, it’s baseball. But you knew that, right? The snarky side of me wants to say “obviously,” but we all know someone who thought a pocketknife was “sports-appropriate.” It’s not, buddy. Just leave it in the glove box.

What You Can Bring (Besides Hope)

You’re allowed one sealed water bottle per person, provided it’s plastic and under 20 ounces. Filling stations are inside, so you can stay hydrated without spending $6 on stadium soda. Also, small snacks are okay—individual bags of chips, a sealed granola bar, or an apple. Just no glass containers (duh) or loose fruits that might be mistaken for weapons. (An apple in a sock? That’s a baseball bat? No, that’s paranoid imagination.)

Facilities

And yes, you can bring your phone, camera, and binoculars, but they’ll be inspected. Expect to take out your phone and turn it on—battery dead? Sorry, you’re not getting through until it powers up. I learned that the hard way, too. (Pro tip: charge everything the night before. Your future self will thank you.)

The Weird, the Funny, and the "Why Would You Bring That?"

One time, a friend tried to bring a collapsible umbrella. Security was like, “Is this a weapon?” and she replied, “It’s a rain hat.” They let her in, but she had to carry it in her hand all night. (She looked like Mary Poppins at a baseball game.) The moral? If it’s not clear, not small, or not obviously a necessity, leave it home. You don’t want to be that person negotiating with security over a fanny pack from 1998.

Also, strollers are allowed, but they must be collapsible and checked at the gate. If you bring a wagon? Nope. That’s a parade float, not a bag. And service animals are welcome, but don’t expect to bring your emotional support hamster. (Had to say it.)

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Final Reality Check

The bag policy isn’t trying to ruin your day—it’s about getting you through security in under three minutes instead of fifteen. Honestly, once you accept the clear bag life, it’s liberating. You don’t have to dig through murky depths for your keys; you just see everything. And you save time for the important stuff: finding your seat, arguing over which sunscreen brand is least greasy, and yelling at the umpire.

So here’s my final plea: before you leave the house, inspect your bag. If it’s not clear, don’t risk it. If it’s bigger than a lunchbox, don’t even try. And if you’re still unsure, Dick Howser Stadium has a bag check near the ticket gates for a small fee. (But honestly, who wants to pay $5 to store a bag they could’ve left at home?)

Now go enjoy the game, and remember: it’s not personal. It’s just a bag. But your peace of mind? That’s priceless. And if you see someone crying at the gate because they forgot their tiny purse is not allowed, buy them a beer. They’ll need it.