The editors of Maxium magazine certainly have a good track record for knowing a good thing when they see it.
But now they're the arbitors of what's become an eyesore as well.
The Maxium.com website has come up with their ranking of the 10 sports buildings in America that need more than a face lift and implants. They need to be condemned.
Your Los Angeles Coliseum isn't spared from the list, despite its traditional value. Maxium doesn't go much in depth about why they'd do it, only that no one seems to like it. Not necessarily true, but if you really want a list of what could be fixed up, start with the fact only one elevator goes up to the three levels of the press box. At least the upgraded Rose Bowl has three (maybe four?) elevators.
At least there are some drawings out there of what an upgraded Coliseum would look like, with luxury boxes, etc., to appease an NFL franchise. But so far, it's far from getting off the ground. So we just have these pictures to look at and dream about.
We can't say we disagree too much with their list, or including the home of the USC Trojans and occasional international soccer game. It would be a shame, though, to just nuke it -- and then leave the nearby Sports Arena standing.
Somehow, Pauley Pavilion escaped the wrecking ball.
Here's the Maxium list:

10. Louisiana Superdome, New Orleans: Even before Katrina, the place came across as drab and soulless as a long-abandoned warehouse. Great symbol of New Orleans' resilience, lousy place to see a game.

9. Madison Square Garden, New York: Oh, the arena itself ain't half bad, especially if you like $8.75 Miller Genuine Drafts and $16 "personal pizzas."

8. Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh: If folks from Pittsburgh, ­among the hardiest fans in sports, are saying, "Dude, this place could use, like, a fresh coat of paint," you know it's about one windy December afternoon away from implosion. One of North America's five most prominent candidates for a massive, raging electrical fire.

7. US Cellular Field, Chicago: "The Cell" is the most recently constructed of the cookie-cutter, rounder-than-Aykroyd ballparks that plagued baseball from the early 1970s until the Y2K construction wave. Do stadiums have feelings? If so, this one boasts lower self-esteem than several generations of Hilton women.

6. Cameron Indoor Stadium, Durham: Those Duke kids­they're craaaay-zeee. They create their own refugee camp outside rickety Cameron and, whether through Jedi mind-trickery or massive ingestion of hallucinogens, proceed to pretend that their hardwood heroes ply their craft in something other than a barn.

5. L.A. Memorial Coliseum, Los Angeles: Hello? Anybody here? Remind me again: Why is the NFL so darn eager to place a pro football team that nobody wants in a stadium that nobody likes?

4. Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, Minnesota: Never mind that it's named after a Vice President memorable for being so utterly, remarkably unmemorable. The stadium boasts precisely two noteworthy features: fences baggier than Snoop's trousers and a pale ceiling that makes locating simple pop flies an arduous task.

3. Shea Stadium, New York: Don't get us wrong, the neighboring auto-body shops lend a certain je ne sais quoi to the fan experience, as do the gently wafting scents of rot and tire fires. The bigger problem is inside the cavernous park, where even the box seats are way recessed from the field. Spatially, it's the baseball equivalent of a de-elasticized waistband.

2. Fenway Park, Boston: Sure, they've gussied up the joint in recent years: seats on the Green Monster, elimination of the trough urinals, etc. Still, you can slap as much rouge on an old, decrepit prostitute as you'd like; She still remains, at her core, an old, decrepit prostitute…in this instance, one with ghastly sightlines and seats designed to accommodate the 5'4", 125-pound hominid of the 1820s.

1. Joe Louis Arena, Detroit: We're on board with anything named after the great Joe Louis­Joe Louis Pancake Batter, Eau de Joe cologne, anything. But his name/legacy, as well as the Red Wings, deserve better than a crumbling facility in a scary (and not in a Regis-without-makeup way) neighborhood. It's sportsdom's only arena where the presence of teeth and veritable rivers of sputum in the concourses doesn't prompt any reaction vaguely resembling surprise.