Hope is alive

I am just a baseball fan. In fact, it took me a long time to care about the Minnesota Twins at all. I went to the Metrodome to watch the White Sox when they were in town, proudly sporting my Robin Ventura jersey. Being a fan of both the Cubs and White Sox, I had more than my fair share of disappointments. But I hated the Twins' ugly fake field, their fairweather fans, their no-name players and lackluster performance through the late 90s.

But I lived in Minnesota for ten years and Twins tickets were dirt cheap. I remember buying tickets to sit in the cheap seats and sitting front row on the third base line within spitting distance of Ventura. And then I started going to the games just to watch the Twins, but only because I loved baseball--not because I cared about the Twins. I guess it was Opening Day 2004 when I realized I was a Twins fan, albeit begrudgingly so. It was the first of several Opening Day tickets Katie got for me, and it was the first time I had seen the fans more than their usual blase selves. I don't know if it was the prospect of the young upstart catcher Joe Mauer or what, but I bought a Mauer t-shirt that night out of pure hope. And I suppose I never looked back.

Even though my love of baseball has never wavered, my feelings for professional baseball have waxed and waned during the last two decades. But since 2004, I have remained true to the major leagues, through trades and strike rumors and injuries. And slowly the small-ball Twins shoved the Cubs out of the way to take first place in my heart. I felt like I can mark my adult life by the Twins, and I won't get into all the details and all the times that the Twins seemed to come to my emotional rescue during the dark times in life. I could recount taking the high school softball team that I coached to the Dome in 2005, buying super cheap tickets that were right behind home plate, and teaching the girls the tricks to getting autographs. I think that was the day some of those girls became fans, not just of Joe Mauer and Matt Guerrier, but of the game of baseball. I felt like I had taught those girls something that would stay with them longer than Shakespeare and Milton, and they were inspired. Most of those girls are still fans five years later.

And when I moved back to the Chicago area, it was with a heavy heart that I shoved in as many Twins games at the Dome as I could. I bought tickets to watch the Twins play in Chicago, and it was with a kind of desparation that I let go of these Twins the same way I had let go of Minnesota. In the face of the White Sox fans that hated Minnesota here in Elgin, I think I became a more dedicated Twins fan than ever. This season I traveled to five different stadiums to watch them play, and with every encounter I became more obsessed with the 2010 Twins, and even in their weaker moments this year, I never once considered that they wouldn't win it all this year, in the same way that I never doubted that our high school baseball team would win the State Championship title (which they did). And once again, in the dark moments of this year, the Twins were there to lift my spirits and give me hope.

So here I sit, less than an hour before game time, well aware that I love the Twins far more than is healthy. They are down 2 games against the hated, evil Yankees, and I know the odds are against them. My heart aches when Joe Mauer strikes out and grounds out--Mauer, who has hit almost .400 since the All-Star break and who has signed a multi-million dollar contract, and who has seemed to many to be the salvation of this team. My friend keeps saying that he is the most overrated player in baseball, and it hurts to hear that. I hate hearing people speak poorly of Mauer, but I also am waiting on pins and needles for him to come through. And maybe that will be tonight--maybe that will be the beginning of the greatest playoff comeback in MLB history. Maybe tonight will begin the fruition of all my hopes, because I am simply not ready for this to be over. It's been such a great ride.