On their way to the sunshine and green grass of Florida, the Boys of Next Summer stopped at a decidedly less-dreary Metrodome to meet with the fans.
TwinsFest, which we missed last year because of its relocation, certainly felt familiar but freshened from past years. I think that the absence of a year, for many folks, made the heart grow a little bit fonder toward this old stalwart. And despite coming off a lousy season, everybody seemed so gosh darn happy.
And that new Metrodome roof was so much more cheery than the old one. It probably would be tougher on baseball players, but every time the sun came out, it caused a dramatic change in the mood of the place. Why couldn't they have done that 20 years ago?
We had a great time, and I took some photos.
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The new roof shines
Everyone who was there must admit it: We love baseball. Even when our team isn't at its top form, baseball remains the promise of a summer which just keeps on giving. Why else would we plunk down real money (my total for the event was $70, admittedly maybe not your definition of "real" money) to walk around and just look at some baseball stuff -- some of which we've seen before?
Well, there's the chance that we'll bump into a player or two. OK, that doesn't really happen anymore, at least not in an uncontrolled situation. But you can run into the ballpark organist, which is its own thrill.
The nearest I could tell, Sue was just attending the event. I happened to turn around after taking a picture of my kids by a World Series trophy to find her standing behind me, trying to get close to the trophy case.
As always, she was gracious in being recognized, and happy to explain to the kids what she does: "I'm the one who goes dum-dum-dum-dum-da-dum on the organ." After we took a picture with her, she moved back toward the exhibit and didn't get recognized again in the whole time we hovered nearby looking at the various artifacts.
The bane of this TwinsFest, like all others, is those autograph lines. They are impossibly long, snaking throughout the floor, and tying up people who appeared to all wish they were doing something else. In a couple of cases, I didn't even recognize the Twins they were waiting for.
The addition of colored wristbands appears to have helped somewhat for the bigger names. But I talked to one fan who had arrived at the crack of dawn just to get in line for a wristband to give her the chance of getting Joe Mauer's autograph. In the end, she got the wrong color. But she was philosophical, saying that the process had actually had saved her a lot of time.
Could this be fixed? Absolutely. Here's how:
1. Sell tickets for autographs only in advance, either online or at the Target Field box office.
2. Put a time on each ticket just like they do at museums.
3. No one can get in line before their time, and there are just enough tickets sold for each window of time.
This is not rocket science, though there is some experimentation and projection involved, and it would require finding a provider for the software if it's not available in house. But one call to the Minnesota History Center or the Minneapolis Institute of Arts and you've got that covered. They do that sort of thing all the time.
So, as an autograph-seeker, you have to do some virtual waiting, but then your ticket will show you exactly when to arrive in order to get your autograph. Max wait time: 15 minutes. And all the money is handled securely, no player needs to feel like he's disappointing anybody left standing in line when his time is up, and everybody is happy.
And the lines would take up so much less space and be so much less annoying and soul-deadening! Just saying.
We ate some hot dogs and cotton candy (they were out of pizza, imagine that). We hit some whiffle balls. Ninjas taught us how to swing (don't ask; I don't know the answer). There was much jumping and bouncing, plus a bit of climbing and sliding. I said, "stay together" about 500 times, and still had to chase after the younger one a couple of times as he wandered absentmindedly into the crowd.
Mostly, we just soaked it all in.
Outside, it barely felt like January. Inside, it felt like a baseball season about to begin.
"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 3045 found on this site. Click the image to be taken to the original post. A new list is created every 10 minutes.
I suppose that one day my son will graduate from Mrs. Fields to Hooters. At least he won't have to travel too far. *Shudder*
This view looks up Fifth Street toward downtown and shows how the LRT tracks sort of snuggle up to the ballpark.
Comerica Park main entrance: Tigers, bats, and much (maybe too much) more (Source: LP)
OK, it doesn't really look like that at all...
Center field seating
Lots of self-portraits were taken here after the final out.
This is as close as I could get to a pedestrian-eye view of the main entrance. This is what you'll see as you enter by coming down Sixth Street.
Storage tracks in the foreground.
The Pantheon (with inset of the magic eye)
Carew atrium menu part 2
This view is from the roof of a warehouse which stood where the A ramp is today. The HERC is now located where the tracks turned north (toward the top).
Bench seating just off the plaza
Of the players up there, only Bert does not have a gate with his number (28) on it at Target Field. You know, there is that door underneath the skywalk on Seventh Street between gates 14 and 29...
At TF, you never know when you may bump into a Pohlad
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.
This is from inside the B ramp, where an entrance to the plaza will one day be
Here's the entrance from the seating bowl.
The past is the future. Seriously.
Those two empty seats in the front row are where we started the game.
Building the canopy is a spectacular sight.
Photo by Jeff Ewer (Click to enlarge.)
If you arrive by bus, your first glimpse of the park will be the scoreboard's profile. (Viewed from the bus station in the B ramp.)
The view from our seats. I took this picture while standing, and the railing would prove mildly problematic when I sat down -- but not as much as my scorecard, which I always seemed to be holding right in Vic's view of the plate (she told me so).
Flagpole historian Ben McEvers at far right (click for the full photo set, graciously loaned to this site by Pat Backen)
Gate 29 escalators
A closer look at the louvers
This is very early in the day.
Nuts on Clark (a couple blocks north of Wrigley Field)