En route to the Metrodome, we discuss whether our hometown hero is the best hitter right now. My friend thinks so, I don’t, but I don’t counter with some other guy. I just don’t know enough to judge yet.
The Twins’ fifth hitter doubles, scoring two. Nobody out. Goodbye, no-hitter. The White Sox pitcher needs forty pitches to get out of the first; the Twins pitcher needed seven.
In the top of the second, everything stops. Some Twins employee jogs into the outfield, picking up the first big, multicolored shore sphere which people were bouncing out beyond left field. This sort of thing is not permitted in the Metrodome. Once it is duly removed, the competition goes on. The White Sox score runs one by one, until in the middle of the fifth it is 4-3.
Some guy successfully proposes on the screen. The Twins go down one-two-three. To the sixth. Konerko singles, Pierzynski doubles, Getz connects, driving it deep to right. Cuddyer runs over, coming up with it. People cheer quite loudly, considering the visitors just tied it up.
But there’s lots of noise when Joe comes up in the bottom of the seventh. Before the pitch, the hit, the winning run, we cheer like we know how it will go. Once it does occur, my friend grins. I smile too.
With two outs in the top of the ninth, we get up once more. We keep shouting.
Somebody runs out into the outfield to pick up the second bouncy sphere to wind up there. It is the third or fourth, or higher, I’ve seen in just one night.
Then Wise grounds out to first.
Due to high winds, we’re told to use the revolving doors upon exiting. The Metrodome does not “push” me out like it so often does. It’s just this goofy feeling, nothing serious, but I hope I feel it in the future.