All Star Reflections Off the City of Lakes

Like a Limestone Twinkie

First thing you have to know, my greatest weaknesses are Minnesota & Baseball. When news broke that the MLB All-Star Game was coming to the Mini-Apple this year, I wanted to get clear of town. Why? Because I thought these peaceful big little twin towns of mine would be swept up in a lustful corporate frenzy of pompous schmaltz and circumstantial decadence. There was a fair dose of all that, to be sure, but in the end, kind of moving how it all played out.

I’m not from MSP originally, but lived here nearly six years total, first ‘94-96 and again since twenty ten. As for beisbol, I am in love with the Game at a genetic level, and, for better or worse, an addict. Minnesota is much the same way: she can out and out thoroughly abuse millions of people for six to eight months, yet the easy paced grace that is the other half of the year makes up for it in diamonds. To all of us.

But here’s a sad story about Minnesota baseball. Moving to Saint Paul in 2010, my arrival coincided with Target Field’s inaugural season over on the good side of the River. I was fortunate to see a handful of games and the Twins looked great! Every game was sold out, fans around me knew all the dirt, the kids were intense, the stadium was fantastic, and I was back in Minnesota. And they had outdoor baseball. And Surly beer!

I remember being at the last game of the regular season, a dry sunny autumn afternoon, cliches were all in season, and the Twins won! And they clinched a playoff spot! Abundance! But as everyone leaves, they were all so down in the mouth. Super perplexed I blurted out to a stranger, ‘what’s wrong with these people?!’ With a doughy outblandish stare, the stranger flaccidly pointed towards the JumboTron . . .

The Twins were on their way to New York to play the Yankees for the Divisional Series.

And when the Twins showed up to play in NYC, sort of, they embodied that same middle-aged Fargoin’ conclusion — they were beaten before the first pitch. Now, I’m an idiot Cubs fan, and all I know is delusion and failure and amnesia and delusion, et cetera. These divinely placid Twins fans had every practical reason to think they could beat the Yankees. I don’t think I’ve ever quite forgiven the locals for this lapse in faith and fervor. They need to shed some demons.

But back to the All Star Game! Because locals, you shone in a way that makes me weepy. One of the great joys of our Minnesota lifestyle is of course the Bicyculture, and the Cities stepped up in the weeks leading up to The Game to make sure that all the bike lanes were crispy white, paved, and all y’all everyone was on their bikes!

The naughty fun part of this was the fact that the THRONGS of police turned a blind eye to the bad/illegal bicycling techniques of what were obviously suburbanites and people from Wisconsin (which left asshole people like me free to break every law, intentionally).

Also of note, most of the police on their bicycles were on their bicycles. Like, their very own chitty bicycles that they haven’t had tuned up since ‘96 when they got it in the 8th grade at Erik’s in Saint Louis Park on that rainy shitty spring break April day that made them hate their dads. They might not have even known the laws of cycling, but they sure as shit knew they weren’t spending 10 hours in the hot summer sun chasing terrorists on foot. Not during the All Star Game.

And I’d actually like to give a kind shout out to the police. Those folks are locals as much as any of us, and they were behaving (from what I saw) like they were part of the crowd. Granted, there were more of them then there was crowd, but still, they smiled a lot, I saw one dancing with a kid, and no one was brandishing automatic rifles like they do in NY. So that was nice. Minnesota Nice.

My favourite part of the evening had to be stumbling upon the brand new park at the light-rail station on the northwest side of the Field. I had no idea. There were 100s of families and dates, crazy-eyed baseball fans with no currency save their addiction, and professionals wandering around after work shocked as I was that you could buy a gigantic $10 bud light and watch the game on a massive television with the roar of the crowd not 100 feet behind us. Couple all that with an Instagram sunset protected by a bicycle police force the size of Duluth. . . what could go wrong?

And nothing did. Oh wait, Minnesota favorite son Pat Neshek from Brooklyn Park gave up the winning runs for the NL in his All Star debut during the 5th Inning (but what a side-arm delivery!). BUT, Twins closer Perkins threw the last strike to Twins catcher Suzuki for the AL win! And all was alright with the world. So please, don’t call them Twinkies.

Sent from my iPad