Twin Cities Self-Destruction Is Only Natural

If you’ve never been to the Metrodome – and I don’t blame you if you haven’t – you might not immediately understand why so many teams have such a hard time winning there. Piranhas and eventually unaffordable superstars aside, the Twins are really just another team, right? Minneapolis is just another city, right? The Dome is just another blandly designed, questionably financed Tupperware dish of a sportshole, right?

Sort of, but that’s not the problem with playing baseball in Minneapolis.

With all due respect to Rod Carew and Kirby Puckett, picture Cardinals fans without an Albert Pujols or Stan Musial to feverishly idolize, a sports country so starved for monumental achievements that something as basic – fundamental, if you will – as a well-executed bunt is exalted on high. Imagine people who would hate to see the best catcher in the game leave their beloved ballclub, not because he’s any good but because he’s a local boy, as though personal geography somehow meant anything on the field. Imagine a ballpark whose defining features were a non-existent right field, center field bleachers hidden from the sports-viewing public and a ceiling made of a garbage bag.

Now imagine you’re the team from someplace like the South Side of Chicago. Imagine how bizarre it must be when the most insulting you hear is “You’re a bad baseball player,” and contrast that the legendary venom of the Sox faithful. Imagine that instead of grass in the outfield, you see a Slip ‘n Slide and a bunch of half-Canadians begging for Bert to circle them.

So the Sox went after each other; of course they did, as would any sane squad. How can you get mad at a something and a collective somebody so aggressively inoffensive? You can’t and this, I suspect, is part of the Twins’ master plan. Build up their enemies’ rage and let the invaders from the big city destroy themselves. This is the only logical explanation for dropping Monday night’s game because no one should ever find themselves outgunned by Glen Perkins.

No one.