Shalom to the Dome

Like so much of my writing on here, this post is a little late coming. That's the sorry state of my life these days I'm afraid. So burned out that when I do have some time to kill, I spend it on less intensive activities like watching a flick. Nonetheless I have the time and initiative now, so here goes.

The night of October 6th 2009 and the following day let me experience something I have never ever felt before, something that I never really thought I could feel on such a scale. You see, October 6th was the night on which game number 163 of the Twin's season was played, and, as most of you likely know, it was pure Metrodome magic.

Similar to most Twins fans, I had all but given up hope for the season in early September, holding just a silent kernel of faith out that they some way might be able to catch the Tigers. The proverbial nail in the coffin for me was not Justin Morneau's injury, but rather the incident that occurred on the afternoon of September 2nd. I turned on the game mid way through, watching the Twinkies burn through the White Sox in one of the fastest 8 innings I've ever seen. Top of the ninth saw us with a 2-0 lead. Case closed. I'm excited I can get on with my day so quickly. All star closer Joe Nathan gives up a solo shot. I get a little more nervous, but he's done this before. He'll recover, he's clutch. Then he gives up another. So much for the quick ending, looks like we'll have to win it in extras, or at least have a bottom of the ninth. Then he gave up two more. My stomach sunk; it was almost unbearable. We would go on to lose 4-2 burying us further in the standings, but more importanly suffering a huge blow to the morale.

Well anyway, catch Detroit we did, and in extremely dramatic fashion, closing off the regular season with a series against them, one game of which, a 10-7 win, I was very fortunate to attend. When the Twins won the final game to pull even in the standings and force a one game playoff, I received a call from a friend asking if I would like to go, as he was trying to get tickets online. I thanked him for asking, but declined, knowing I would be very busy already, and would have to leave work early just to catch the end of the game (and after all, I had just been to a game two days before and had lucked in to a free ticket to Favre vs. the Packers for the following night). I think it's safe to say I regret that decision a little today, for the game would far outpace the exciting extra inning regular season win vs. the Sox which I'd attended at the close of the previous season, but I didn't second guess my choice as much as one might think.

I did leave work early, giddy with excitement, and came home to find us down 3-1 in the fifth. For those of you who watched it, you know what happened next, and for those who didn't you probably don't care, and the point of this article isn't the game itself, but what arose from it. In more or less words, we caught up, took the lead, were caught, lost the lead in extras, tied it, and then finally won it in the 12th. There were amazing defensive plays, bases loaded jams, homers, base running gaffs, controversial calls, goats, and heros. The game took nigh on five hours, but not a soul was complaining.

It was the best and longest roller coaster ride I've ever been on, and it was absolutely amazing to experience with a house full of fellow Twins fans. We amplified each others' excitement and were yelling, jumping, and high fiving our way through the whole thing, I was even on the ground doing push ups (one for each run) at one point while everyone around me was chanting the count. When it ended we physically and vocally expressed our ecstasy to the best of our ability for probably five continuous minutes. I honestly believe we could have danced into the street and been met by a hundred fellow joyous fans, I'm a little sad we didn't try it now. I read articles and watched video of and about the game for almost the next three hours, so much for homework, but I wasn't going to miss my chance to bask in the moment for as long as possible.

Riding that high also convinced me to go in on some tickets to the ensuing playoff series with my roommates, not wanting to miss out on seeing another classic like the one I'd just seen, in person. Although, as stated, I wasn't that disappointed about not being there the first time because watching it with my friends was an awesome experience in itself. And even though we'd go on to be swept by the well rested and well paid Yanks (It seems I'm starting to repeat some themes more and more on here lately doesn't it?), in a series rife with controversy of its own, including blowing two games with a combination of ineptitude displayed by Carlos Gomez, Joe Nathan, and my boy Nick Punto, as well as one of the worst calls in history on Joe Mauer's shot down the line, it couldn't tarnish game 163. Besides, now I can say I saw the last ever Twins game at the Metrodome (and remember this fun fact--Brendan Harris hit into the last out).

Yes, I have to say, it did sort of feel like we were some sort of team of destiny after winning that series, and it was sad to see us lose in the first round, though I think it's more of a reflection of the structural inequalities in the game today than anything that New York came out on top. But honest to goodness, I can't imagine that experiencing your team winning the World Series is all that much more exciting than 163 was.

The whole next day on campus, the entire college was just glowing, every odd person was decked out in Twins gear and there was an energy and buzz unlike anything I've ever seen before. No matter where you went if you just stopped and listened you could hear people talking about the game. Asking if someone watched it was almost unnecessary, you could just walk up to a person smiling and shaking your head, as if in disbelief, and they'd know exactly what you were thinking, because they were still thinking the same thing. That effervescent bond, that palpable sense of community, almost brought me to tears. I've often complained about the lack of unity or solidarity present on my oversized campus, but for one glorious day it existed, and that's the true miracle. For the first time since one of my high school's football victories did I feel and see that euphoric communal spirit, but this was on so much larger a degree. Not one of our college's own traditions, not one of our sports teams, not even the opening of our new stadium, though that was powerful, could do for me, and the school, what I had always most desired in a college environment, no, that would be left to a professional baseball team. I can only sit in awe thinking of what it would have been like if somehow we had finished the fairy tale and won the Series. Pandomonium. I think going to that victory parade would have been one of the single most rewarding moments of my life. I picture it like a lesser version of VJ-Day: people pouring into the streets, every one together celebrating on a collective cloud nine. And to think, they tried to contract these guys.