Nearly perfect day
Last year, Julia and I went to a playoff game at the Metrodome, walking through cold rain through the east side of downtown Minneapolis. Our umbrella blew inside out on the way to the Dome. I clearly remember us discussing whether anyone would go to any October games in the new outdoor field.
Thursday afternoon this year, it was the most perfect October day. Blue sky, that bright autumn sun that jets in at just the right angle so everything is brighter (not the washed out high sun of summer) and absolutely no wind. Greg had attended the game Wednesday evening, and the girls had sports action Thursday evening, so it was time for Matt and I to take it all in.
Vespucci and Thome
I don’t typically work on Thursdays, but I did some writing in the morning, then scooped up Matt at school about 2:00, where his teacher did a little last-minute lobbying to use Matt’s ticket. They have a great guys’ repoire. Matt says he likes that Mr. Jutting is, “Work hard. Play hard. I’m learning a lot and having a good time, mom.” Matt was missing his social studies test, so en route to downtown, we chatted about Vespucci, Marco Polo and Magellan. And about Thome and Pavano. Not much difference in our heroes over a few hundred years, huh?
Matt indulged me by walking to see Sid Hartman’s statue, unveiled the night before at the first playoff game. I have a totally biased fondness for Sid. I grew up reading his stories and columns and still try to catch his radio updates. He was a guest lecturer in my college journalism classes. I feel like he’s my grandfather, teaching me his view of Minnesota sports. (Thankfully I’ve developed my own view.)
Target Field magic
Every time I’m at Target Field, I notice something new. Some views from batting practice:
Sidenote: Saturday evening, Matt and I perfected our own Tony O Cuban Sandwich for the Twins – Yankees game. I’ll share the recipe. There are a few tricks to make it just right.
We savored every play of the game, and I was reminded again and again why I adore baseball. It’s like poetry. Some things are defined (3 outs, 90 feet), yet others are up to interpretation. Matt and I cheered, high-fived our neighbors, booed Yankees, stayed ever-hopeful and sang every song we knew.
Like an epic saga, the Twins again lost to the Yankees. We slumped into our seats for a while beyond the last out in disbelief. I’m sad this will be the last time we see this view for quite some time:
Yet I’m so grateful for a beautiful autumn day with a lovely young man and a new crop of bittersweet (mostly sweet) baseball memories.
Hope springs eternal. April 1, 2011 isn’t that far away.
How about you? What’s your favorite part of live baseball? What’s your idea for the Twins slaying the Yankee dragons next season? Thanks for stopping by to read and I love comments.