Paul: (after a pause) We didn't get to shake hands very much.
Minny: True, true.
(Sound of cold wind blowing.)
Paul: Really I think I'd rather forget the whole thing.
Minny: Sure, but we've got a lot of time to kill before the next game.
Paul: I know. But what do you want me to say?
Minny: Let's do what we did last year. You remember, going over the season game by game, retelling all the stories, remembering all the highlights while soaking in anticipation for the new season. That was so great.
Paul: I suppose we can try.
(Sound of lonely LRT whistle, then a long silence.)
Paul: Um, this is still a great place to see a game.
Minny: Really? That's all you got?
Paul: Give me a minute.
(Sound of jet flying high overhead, then quiet.)
Paul: Baseball is still a beautiful game.
Minny: Great. We're in cliche-land now.
Paul: Wait 'till next year?
Minny: You've got to be kidding.
(Sound of hoses cleaning the empty concourses.)
Minny: Paul, you still love the game, right?
Paul: Of course.
Minny: Me too. But sometimes I wonder why.
Paul: Look, you love it for the same reason I do -- because it's an art: you know, an apparently pointless affair, undertaken by people with a special aptitude, which sidesteps attempts to paraphrase its value yet somehow seems to communicate something true or even crucial about the Human Condition. The Human Condition being, basically, that we're alive and have access to beauty, can even erratically create it, but will someday be dead and will not.
Minny: That's beautiful, Paul. Did you just think that up?
Paul: Naw, I heard a couple of guys down in those seats right there talking about some new baseball novel. "The Art of Fielding." Chad Harbach. It's from that.
Paul: Kinda sums it up, though.
Minny: I suppose.
(Sound of a single golden leaf falling gently onto the warning track after wafting in on another cool breeze.)
Paul: Gonna be a long winter.
Paul: (after a pause) Are you going to let go of my hand?
Paul: Oh, OK then.
Minny: (after a pause) One more time? To Harmon?
Paul: To Harmon.
(There is no sound. And no one is there to see neon hands shake one more time.)
This page was last modified on September 30, 2011.
"You talk about the magic, the aura, but what really makes a stadium is the fans. Concrete doesn't talk back to you. Chairs don't talk back to you. It's the people who are there, day in, day out, that makes the place magic."
– Bernie Williams
Explore the Site
Here are 50 images chosen randomly from the 3004 found on this site. Click the image to be taken to the original post. A new list is created every 10 minutes.
This is the main entry to the Pro Shop. The second entry, located just outside the turnstiles, is indicated by the arrow.
As mentioned earlier, one of the best climate-controlled views of construction is from the 7th floor elevator lobby in the A ramp. (That's Noah getting his first glimpse of the new ballpark.)
Here's a closer look at the bullpen area. It's hard to tell for sure, but I think there is still an opening to the concourse right above.
20 minutes to get from our seat to the street. Miss this place? Nah.
Mystery door on Seventh Street...
The circulation ramp on the north now has its louver framing.
Seventh Street windows
Ullger warms up.
These stairs will meet the skyway.
Ballpark magic: Infield materializes (click to enlarge)
The rules were clearly posted next to this new entry point on the Seventh Street side. I have no problem with the rules!
Detail showing clubhouse and home dugout (click to see the entire drawing)
Click to enlarge.
This is the Carew gate covered in plastic.
The electronic sign has been corrected (and never forget that ballpark is one word, not two)
Roll-up metal doors visible at right.
Heaters over standing room (the backs of the retired number circles visible above)
The rough outlines of our urban trench. (North is up.)
Grid for the ironwood louvres is in place
The back row of seats in straight-away center. Note that, beyond those seats, you can see the planters (for flowers) on the front of the Left Field Bleachers.(Batters Eye)
This is the start of construction on the Northstar platform which will feed under the bridge and to a lobby with escalators and elevators just inside the ballpark's public concourse. Compared to the ballpark construction, this looks kind of puny. But the work just to get the trains to come has been positively Herculean. Future generations will look back at this with awe.
Looking through the Oliva gate, you can see the outfield stands.
Detail of Entry Plaza #4 (north entry from Fifth Street)
A portrait of the 573 Club.
Sky through steel.
The flowers don't have quite the fullness depicted in the original sketches (where they were positively overflowing), but they are quite lovely -- a great, subtle touch. And that's probably a very challenging place to grow anything.
The Metrodome hot dog vendor. (Source: RP)
Here's a rack of lights being prepared for lifting into the canopy.
These two sections are within a few feet of one another.
You write the caption...
This area will supposedly show the Twins chronology. Will it stretch back to 1901?
The Puckett Atrium
They can put a camera just about anywhere. (Photo by Jeff Ewer)