Blink, blink. S t r e t c h . . . yawn . . . What? Really?
It's a little abstract, but I hear that there are people actually playing baseball somewhere again. The gloves, bats and balls are out, the jerseys, caps and spikes are on, and the great hibernating bear known as Major League Baseball is gradually awakening once again.
The Metrodome had a sparser feel this year, as if it knows it's not long for the world, but the basics of TwinsFest were the same as always. My kids stood in line to swing at whiffle balls, jumped around inside the giant TC, and spun various wheels for giveaways which barely made it through our back door before hitting the garbage can.
I signed a few waivers, and then managed to strain my shoulder while throwing a baseball (without any warm-up, mind you) at a pathetic 37 MPH.
But the most memorable piece of TwinsFest was the absolutely terrible cotton candy we ate.
It had three colors and, surprisingly, three flavors -- each more dreadful than the last. The first course was blue and tasted like Windex, the second segment was yellow and tasted like Lemon Pledge, and the third was pink with a flavor that can only be described as Coconut Sunscreen. Call me a purist, but if cotton candy tastes like anything other than air and sugar, I'm not interested.
The bright spot was, by far, the guy pitching whiffle balls.
Tru wanted to be helpful, and this guy made it worth his while.
He was having fun with the kids, and trying to make sure everyone got a chance to get a hit -- even if it meant slightly exceeding the allotted pitch count. He was especially kind to 4-year-old Truman, who has a hearty swing which generally only touches air. Whoever that guy is, give him a raise! (I think he was actually a volunteer.)
As for TwinsFest as a whole, the reboot is still needed, and still out there waiting. Maybe it will happen when the event is forced into a different venue. (I should add that I'm looking forward to getting my first look at the new Vikings Stadium during TwinsFest 2016!)
Since TwinsFest, I've had several persistent thoughts about the 2013 Minnesota Twins. The first is that I don't know half of these guys -- including most of the pitchers. This is becoming less unusual, but it does make it hard to connect with the grand past when every year you start with a bunch of unfamiliar faces.
At the same time, since the old faces largely disappointed us, change must be viewed as potential progress -- at least until somebody starts keeping official stats again. Then we'll see.
Second, I'm remembering spring of 1987, but not because of any specific parallels between this year's squad and that one (though they both feature a couple of long-term home-grown stars and only, um, modest expectations of being better than the previous year). No, I'm thinking of that year because this year's team, like that one, will begin the season 22 years removed from the franchise's last World Series appearance.
Somehow the length between 1965 and 1987 seems longer than that between 1991 and 2013 -- a function of my age, no doubt. But 1987 ultimately proved that you never know on opening day who will be left standing at the end of October. The '87 Twins shocked everybody. Could the '13 Twins do the same?
This is the time of year when such questions, even tons of contrary analysis notwithstanding, must be asked and fantasy miracles must be allowed to motivate us as fans.
Of course, I know what everyone out there is saying. So, let's really think about this.
The Twins front office has only made moves that are likely to benefit the team a couple of years down the road. Any remaining moves between now and opening day -- just a few weeks away (!!) -- aren't exactly going to change the make-up of this club in any fundamental way. Even adding back a HOFer for the bench isn't going to change that much. Right now, we pretty much know who we're going to be watching this summer.
But where does that leave us? And by 'us', I mean people like you and me who see the Game as the thing much more than the Win. This is not to say we don't like to win. We certainly like to win more than we like to lose. But we can enjoy -- and have enjoyed/endured -- watching the game being played even when the hometown team isn't all that good. One thing that will certainly still be true on April 1 is that, on any given day any major league team can beat -- or even trounce -- any other major league team.
So, the questions: How much do we watch? How much do we care? How much do we pay? And, just because we're all ballpark geeks here: How much does just being able to go out to a beautiful ballpark figure in to the equation?
When I get depressed about the Twins roster, I think about these things. And right now, I'm depressed about the Twins roster.
My wife became a Twins fan while we were dating in 2001. Her fandom was sealed about the time we got married in 2002. Pretty good place to start, eh? She really has no idea what the 70s, 80s, and 90s were like for Twins fans. I tell her that, with history as a guide, it could be a decade before we get the opportunity to lose to the Yankees again in the playoffs, and our kids may have kids before the TCs bring home another World (Series) Championship.
But she doesn't believe me because that hasn't been her experience. She always thinks, when the new season starts, that the team has a chance, that the Twins will figure out a way to win. And her "has a chance" isn't like yours and mine (meaning, mathematical), but she thinks they really have a chance and will figure out a way to win -- much more like little kids imagine it -- with a mental image of Drew Butera catching strike three of the last out in the ninth inning of game seven and then running and jumping into the arms of Kevin Correia, all on a beautiful, warm October evening at Target Field.
Truthfully, she's in a better position than you and me.
We know that we have to temper our expectations. If we don't want to be crestfallen come Jun-- er, September, we won't set our expectations above those of the professional forecasters. We'll expect the Twins to lose 95 games and pull up last in the AL Central. Anything better than that will be a welcome relief. (For her part, Victoria doesn't get too wrapped up in all the losing. When they don't win, even though she thought they might have, she basically just shrugs and smiles. It's just baseball, she might as well say. Did I mention that she's in a much better place about this than most of us?)
But we also have to make decisions about our attendance and ticket purchases (she really does not; she'll probably only go to one game all season, and only if she has the free time to spare). So there's really something at stake for us.
I'm not going to drag out the suspense here. I'll be attending games at roughly the same pace as recent years, and it'll be based way more on my availability than on the team's performance. I've worked my way up to about a dozen games per season, and I'll probably get to that many this year. And I'll probably sit in roughly the same sections and spend roughly the same amount on concessions and souvenirs.
I bet the Twins are counting on a few fans like me, and I'm confident that they'll have more than a few. Despite our reputation as bandwagon fans, I think the reality is that we're way more loyal -- as a whole -- than some other places. Dave St. Peter has widely stated that the team experienced an 80% renewal rate on season tickets (19K FTEs) and the advertisers reupped at something approaching 90%. These types of numbers are almost unheard of in professional sports franchises with two terrible seasons in a row. (Things are not like this in Miami.)
It seems that fans in other markets are far more willing to punish teams for lackluster performance than we are around these parts. So we look good, right?
Well, it turns out (see Scorecasting: The Hidden Influences Behind How Sports Are Played and Games Are Won) that punishing teams financially is actually one of the best ways to motivate them to get better. When wins don't directly and dramatically affect the bottom line, the incentives to improve are short-circuited. Do you wonder why the Cubs haven't won a World Series since the Harding administration? It's at least partly because fans still go out to Wrigley Field even when the team stinks. (Note to the Ricketts family: Don't use this argument when lobbying for funds to renovate the dump! "We want to fix up Wrigley so fans keep coming even when we suck.")
That's part of what makes the new cable TV deals so scary. This is nothing new, but it appears that overall market size is now going to have a much greater affect on each team's bottom line than anything as parochial as success on the field. We could see a new era of competitive imbalance which puts the 90s to shame.
But now, in the first week of March, is not the time to obsess about such things. Now is the time to get ready for some baseball.
To that end, Vic and I have been rewatching the Ken Burns mini-series, I've picked up a few new books about ballparks (imagine that!), and I've printed out my 2013 Twins schedule and started marking in the dates. (You can print out your very own BallparkMagic 2013 Schedule here.)
It looks like I'm not buying the 2013 Baseball Prospectus because it appears, from its online preview, to be a pale and stiff descendant of the snarkier and vastly more entertaining editions of years gone by (the last really good one was, I think, 2005). If you can recommend an alternative, I'd sure appreciate it. (I'm not looking for printed stats or fantasy projections. More the narrative descriptions of what happened within each franchise and division.)
I'd be lying if I said that I feel the same giddy-up about the Twins that I did a couple of years ago, but they're still my team. They still promise to provide me with some sort of awesome narrative this summer, and will still suck up a fair amount of my disposable income.
After all, Joe Mauer is going to need a good nanny, and I feel like I must do my small part.
"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 3042 found on this site. Click the image to be taken to the original post. A new list is created every 10 minutes.
2007, Noah's first game (Torii's last)
The base of the old Met Stadium flagpole. (The plaque refers to the "Flame of Freedom" and not the origin of the pole.)
The plate marker is just to the left.
The glare problem.
The entry from the platform to the ballpark.
Larry DiVito and staff member (you write the caption)
5:45 PM, section 327, row 9, sitting: shade.
Despite what those signs say, every one of these places was selling either snacks or Yankee memorabilia out of its front door. Do you suppose anything like this will spring up anywhere near the new Twins ballpark?
Don Swanson, left, in-coming commander of the Richfield American Legion, and Joe Kennedy, right, out-going commander, are pictured with the Legion's new flag pole, which once stood at old Metropolitan Stadium. (Click to enlarge.)
Dome, what have you taken from us?
The east wall of the building looks like it will be the first part completed. These are probably supports for the plaza, and they hug the very edge of the site.
The brick has been tinted where the circulation ramp meets the admin building.
Now, why is there horse shit on the street next to Target Field? (I saw it in two places. Mounted police maybe?)
The Ceremony (VIP in the crowd)
Looking from First Avenue toward the ballpark (over the top of a construction barricade)
Because of the scale, it's sometimes hard to realize that there are actual guys down there doing the tough work! Here they are getting ready to pour a footing.
Viewed from another angle, you can see that the bullpens now sit beneath the upper deck outfield seating.
This was from January 19, 2007, when it looked like wonderful things might never happen here.
Not me, but it might as well be.
Here's where I was when the alarm went off, and though the siren wasn't terribly loud, at least one guy is plugging his ears.
Met Stadium on May 17, 1975 (Twins vs. Brewers featuring Hank Aaron)
The alumni band sounded great.
Viewed from the A ramp.
A slightly different angle, and you can see some of the structural elements.