Again, apologies for not posting a comprehensive recap of the White Sox series yet (3 guesses what the cause is, and if you guessed grad school, grad school and grad school you would be right, right and the opposite of wrong). Stinky and I are working on it, and feel that it may go down as one of our most epically awesome posts ever--but it will be germane whenever it is published...so patience li'l Peanuts....patience.
In the mean time, I have to write about Target Field, which opened yesterday and is very very very very very very very very very VERY pretty.
See how pretty...let's all bask in it's glory just a little while longer.........................................sigh...
I've reached the age in my life where the vast majority of my peers have begun settling down and begining their families. They post pictures on facebook and earn the giddy adulation of their old friends (myself included). So is it sad, that instead of a baby I fawn over a $545 million dollar pile of lime stone, concrete and grass? Is it bad that I rearranged my writing of term papers to complement the commercial breaks of the game against the Red Sox? Is it weird that I want to pinch the side of the outfield wall and say: "Who's an architectural-testament-to-the-natural-beauty-of-Minnesota-who-also-provides-technological-innovations-and-environmentally-conscious-energy-efficientcy? YOU ARE!!! Yes...YOU ARE!!!!"?
In time, I imagine that Target Field will be simply another feature of our shared cultural landscape. We'll have fond memories and foul memories too...someone will get served a less than superb hot dog, drunken fans will make a parent cover their child's ears and we will--unfortunately--probably lose a game at some point. But for right now, it's all new and all fresh and marvelous. While I'm sad that I don't get to be there myself, I'm happy that my partner in crime will attend tomorrow's game and my mother (the Knitting Queen) will be there as well, so first hand reports are on the way, and I suppose, in time, I'll remember my first time at the stadium, even if it wasn't the first game ever played there.
If baseball has taught me anything, it's that memories and history are always around you. You can't watch players play without watching the refinement of skills that have been developing for decades. You can't watch a game without remembering the game before. You wil always have your memories, swimming around in your mind, suggesting relevant stats, evoking communal lore. And yet...the other major thing I've learned in baseball is that it doesn't do to dwell on the past and forget the present. So what if you haven't had good luck beating the Red Sox or Yankees before--it's a new day! So what if your left fielder is a permanent subject of mockery in the blogsophere? He can figure it out! So what if your last hot dog was bad and the guy three rows back was irritating...you go back to the stadium convinced that this time, it'll be a good one!
Baseball is my precious, Target Field is the latest object of my affection, but come rain or snow or final exams, I'll be root root rooting for my favoritest things in the world. Truth, Justice, Disgusting Odors and the Minnesota Twins (though not necessarily in that order).
We look forward to more information from the fans who go tomorrow. And will be back and better than ever sooner than you think. Until then I remain your loyal bloggering friend,
The Scruffy Rube
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