Fair Minnesota. Land of lakes, snow, family, friends, and all day drinking extravaganzas. I was reminded of these things as I made a voyage home this weekend. I left the mid-sixties and ever-present sun of Southern California for the mid-twenties and brown snowbanks of the Upper Midwest. It was glorious.
I went home for my father's birthday, for my birthday, and for an epic game of softball on ice. What's softball on ice, you ask? Let me share a very informative video clip with you from a couple of years ago. Click the link here.
Yes, I was wearing womens sunglasses. Yes, I can't speak well. Yes, I was intoxicated. These are some of the things that make the event so wonderful. The combination of keg stands, flip cup, and beer pong comprise our warmup, which moves ever-so-easily into alcohol-infused bases, and post game celebrations. It makes for quite a nice little Saturday afternoon.
Intensive warm-ups. You don't want to pull a muscle.
Unfortunate loss for the better team. I blame Reuter.
On this past Saturday, our drunken afternoon transitioned into a drunken evening. After our game, we began asking ourselves what the night would hold. We discussed going to bars in Uptown, heading back to Eden Prairie (where I was staying), or even trying to catch the Timberwolves game. Uptown seemed like the best option. It was close, our friends were going there, and the drunken event could continue. We didn't have a ride to Eden Prairie, and no tickets to get into the game (which was already in the second half). Williams, Bar Abilene, CC Club, here we come!
20 minutes later, we were standing outside the Target Center. The ticket windows were closed, and there was a steady stream of fans that were already pouring out of the building. The fourth quarter was starting when we approached the ticket takers, still wearing our snowpants and gloves.
Me: Hey, we don't have any tickets, but we were wondering if you could let us in?
Ticket guy: Umm, hold on a second.
The ticket guy proceeded to get on his radio, and speak in hushed tones. I looked at my friends with a shocked look on my face. Could he actually be considering this? Was this a high school football game? I couldn't believe that a professionally run franchise was going to allow three guys that smelled heavily of booze into their arena for free.
Ticket guy: Yeah, you guys can go in, but you have to go to the second level.
Us: Of course. Thank you, this is great. We'll head up there.
We went up a couple of escalators and walked into the upper section of the first level. The guy watched us go up one flight and then left us alone. Even the ushers that stood between the seats and the concession stands smiled at us as we passed by them. We found a section of seats, just under the luxury boxes, sat down, and watched the remainder of the game.
The Timberwolves were losing by 25 at that point, it was late in the game, and a large number of fans had already left. But still!!! What had happened to my favorite team? What had happened to the days of Prince, and Jimmy Jam, and Daunte Culpepper being active fans? How had we gotten to this point?
Ok, ok. I know how we got to this point. There was KG's exit, the Brandon Roy trade, the blunderings of GM McHale (and the subsequent CoacHale), and now the Ricky Rubio disaster. I just don't enjoy thinking of these things. In my drunken stupor, I loved that we were allowed inside, but it made a little part of my T-Wolves fanhood die at the same time. I was watching a team that I didn't know, who were losing by thousands of points, in a half empty arena. I saw Darko Milicic handling the ball, and I almost broke down in tears.
I loved my short visit to Minnesota. Thoughts of moving home grew in my mind. At the same time, however, the state of the Timberwolves franchise disheartened me. Their stank might be too much to tolerate if I were to reside in Minnesota once again. For now, I'll stay living as far away as possible, hoping that the Twins will bring sweet smelling flowers with them this spring.
Of course, that's provided that the trash incinerator behind Target Field doesn't overpower them.
Basketball, you're nearly dead to me. Bring on outdoor baseball!
-Sota
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