There's a certain ennui to the waning days of the baseball season, particularly when a team has long lost hope of making the postseason. The crowds thin out, the buzz that accompanies the early weeks of the season is gone, the players are just trying to make it to the end of the season without getting hurt. Nearly everyone involved—the players, the fans, the coaches—want it to be over with, but they also want to see things end on a positive note. To send everyone into the gloom of winter with the promise of light and warmth. Nowhere is this more true than in Minnesota.
It's been a rough stretch for the Minnesota Twins and their fans. They've just finished their fourth straight season of 90-plus losses, once again came in last in the American League Central, and they don't appear close to turning the corner. They don't pitch well, they don't hit well, they don't field well. They're not particularly fun to watch, and they have little personality. They're not lovable losers. They're not a team of former champions whose time has passed. They're not a team of talented youngsters exhibiting growing pains but on the verge of greatness. They're just a bad baseball team.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. In 2010, after nearly three decades of playing in the sterile confines of the Metrodome, the Twins moved to their new outdoor ballpark in the heart of downtown Minneapolis. Outdoor baseball was back, frigid northern weather be damned. The timing of Target Field's opening was fortuitous, as the Twins were in the midst of a run of success that had seen them win eight AL Central crowns in ten years. This after they had been mentioned as possible candidates for contraction. Much like the Moneyball Oakland As, the Twins were seen as a small market success story, a team that had built its success on developing players and managing its payroll wisely.
At the center of this success were the M&M boys, Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau. Mauer, Minnesota born and bred, was on his way perhaps to becoming the greatest offensive catcher of all time. He was coming off an MVP season and had already won three batting titles. Morneau, also a former MVP, had established himself as one of the more formidable sluggers in the game. They were surrounded by solid young veterans Michael Cuddyer and Jason Kubel, and the Paul Bunyon-esque slugger Jim Thome. Their pitching was strong from top to bottom, despite not having a true ace. Their defense was solid.
Most of all, what they had going for them was "the Twins way," a term that has been uttered with much derision the past few years. What was the Twins way? Playing solid fundamental baseball, taking advantage of every opportunity, not beating themselves with dumb mistakes. Twins hitters got hits with men on base, the fielders didn't commit many errors, and the pitchers pitched to contact because they trusted their fielders to catch the ball. While this style of play never got the Twins to the World Series, it did win them much admiration.
That success, combined with their beautiful new outdoor ballpark, made the Twins the hottest ticket in town. Target Field was the place to be on a summer night in Minneapolis. It didn't really matter how well the Twins were playing, or that hitting home runs in the new park was a bit of a challenge. There was beer, food, people watching and warm weather. Sure, half the people in the crowd weren't watching, but who cared. It was a party.
The party ended, at least on the field, in 2011. One year into a massive eight-year, $184 million contract, Joe Mauer was felled by a mystery ailment that doctors with the team described as "bilateral leg weakness." Justin Morneau, who had suffered a concussion in 2010, continued to feel the affects of that concussion and was not the same player. A pitching staff that at one point had seemed to have several members capable of being aces was exposed as having none. Ill-conceived trades brought in players not familiar with the Twins Way. The fundamentals disappeared. The party in the stands went on, but on the field an era was ending.
It's a Wednesday night in mid-September at Target Field, and the buzz has faded. The 64-87 Twins are taking on the mighty Detroit Tigers, who are in a fight with the Kansas City Royals for the division crown. Target Field is maybe a third full, as fans soak up the dying days of summer. It's about 70 degrees at game time, but as the sun goes down you can feel autumn creeping in. It's a gorgeous night. I keep thinking of this song.
Try to remember the kind of September
when life was slow and oh so mellow
The fans around me show varying degrees of interest in the game. Behind me, a man talks to his son about his carpal tunnel syndrome. It could be the way he's holding his mouse. He also might need new glasses, because the HR person says his prescription could be affecting the angle at which he views the computer screen. Another young man talks about his brother, who's so taken with his new girlfriend that he immediately heads over to her house after work. An older man in front of me is wearing a Mauer jersey and diligently keeping score. He's brought his own peanuts with him. A young woman in front of me flips through Facebook on her iPhone.
Between the third and fourth inning, I wander over to the Twins Town Tavern, a bar with windows over looking the field. During the early months of the season, this place is packed with fans trying to keep warm. As the weather gets warmer, the crowds thin out. On this night, most of the people at the Twins Town Tavern have no interest in the game. At the bar, five women in Twins gear are doing shots of Tequila. They appear at least halfway to being half in the bag.
The only one not drinking is Sue Nelson, longtime organist for the Twins. Her organ sits in front of one of the open windows at the bar, overlooking the field. She only plays when Twins players are at bat. As part of the intricate musical choreography of a modern-day ballpark, she wears an earpiece, through which she's told when she can play. In between innings, Sue says hi to kids and takes pictures with anyone who asks. I ask Sue if she ever gets depressed when the season is winding down. "Always" she says. "It's so depressing." Even at the end of a fourth straight losing season, she remains cheerful and passionate about her Twins.
On the field, the Twins are trying to give fans something to be passionate about. Pitching for the Twins is Kyle Gibson, a young pitcher who team officials are hoping can be a top of the rotation starter, if not an ace. Gibson was called up in the middle of the 2013 season, and the organization hoped he might provide a spark. He quickly proved he wasn't ready, and got hit hard. This year, he's been maddeningly inconsistent, brilliant in one start, dreadful the next.
On this night, against a terrific Tigers lineup, Gibson quickly gets in trouble. Two runs in the first inning, then two more in the second as Miguel Cabrera rips a two-run double to left field. This after the Twins had scored three runs in the bottom of the first. It looks like it's going to be one of those nights for Gibson. But after the second inning, Gibson remarkably settles down and keeps the Tigers off the scoreboard as he slogs through four more innings. Sometimes, the guys you want out on the mound are the ones who can give up a few runs early on and then bear down to keep their team in the game. Maybe Gibson can be one of those guys.
David Price, pitching for the Tigers, has already proven himself to be one of those guys. Tonight, he's not. He's already thrown 89 pitches by the fifth inning. He's hanging on, showing stretches of dominance. In the fifth he strikes out Joe Mauer on three pitches. But in the sixth, it all caves in. Doubles by Aaron Hicks and Jordan Schaeffer. A triple by Brian Dozier. A soft opposite field double by Joe Mauer. By the end of the sixth, the Twins have take the lead, 6-4. Against the powerful Tigers lineup, that doesn't appear to be a safe lead.
At this point in the game, only the hardcore fans are paying attention. Even to them, this game means little. Tonight, the big star of the game is the giant water bugs dropping from the sky. They're two inches long. They live mostly near water, but are attracted to lights, which would explain why they're spending the evening at the Twins game. Every few minutes, one of them drops near an unsuspecting fan, causing panic. A couple in the front row of my section bolts for the concourse when one of the bugs lands near their feet.
On the big screen, it's time for kiss cam, a staple of most modern-day stadiums. These days it's one of the highlights of Twins games. Some couples give each other a quick peck on the lips. Others go to town. Inevitably, the camera lands on two people who clearly aren't a couple, eliciting a chuckle from the crowd. At the end, a young man gets on his knee and pulls out a ring for his gal. She cries, they kiss and embrace, the crowd cheers. The camera lingers a little too long for my comfort.
Kyle Gibson isn't the only bright spot for the Twins tonight. Rookie shortstop-turned-center fielder Danny Santana, who's been a revelation this year, collects three hits and drives in two runs. Joe Mauer also has three hits. He's been hitting well since he returned from a pulled stomach muscle suffered in June. Still, he's only hitting around .270, nearly 50 points below his career average. Before the injury, Twins fans were turning on the hometown boy and booing him with increasing frequency. After a late season concussion in 2013, the Twins decided to move Mauer from catcher to first base, hoping that would keep him in the lineup for more games. Some observers even suggested that moving him to a less physically taxing position might result in more productivity at the plate. It hasn't worked out that way.
For many Twins fans, the frustration with Mauer has been growing for awhile. Some cite the injuries, some harp on the inability to hit for power or in the clutch, and some are just bugged by a low-key manner that can appear as lack of desire. To his detractors, Mauer hasn't lived up to his massive contract. While his beautiful swing and patient, careful approach to each at bat has produced three batting titles and a high on-base percentage, it drives some fans crazy. A trait that particularly irks fans is his penchant for taking the first pitch of an at-bat, which has led many pitchers to throw first-pitch fastballs for a strike. Most great hitters would accept the invitation, but not Mauer. Every once in a while he'll turn on one for a home run, and make it look graceful and easy. And every time he does it, you wonder why he can't do it more often
It's the eighth inning now, and the game has slowed to a glacial pace. There's been a lot of talk this season about the length of games, which now regularly last three hours at a minimum. And the eighth inning seems generally be the biggest culprit, especially in close games. It's when managers get into the chess game. One will make the first move by bringing in a pinch hitter, and the opposing manager will counter with a pitching change. Each is weighing the cold data of the stats sheet against the gut feel of who has the hot hand. In the eighth inning of an October playoff game, this maneuvering can make for great theater. The eighth inning of a meaningless game in September is interminable. Tonight, the eighth takes about 45 minutes, and includes four pitching changes between the two teams. The Twins score two more runs to increase their lead to 8-4.
There's been an increasing amount of chatter that this might be manager Ron Gardenhire's last season with the club. Gardenhire has, for the most part, remained blameless for the current string of futility. Much of the blame has landed on ownership for being unwilling to spend enough to bring in top shelf talent despite the increase in revenue produced by Target Field. That criticism goes back to when the team was regularly winning the division. In its quest to prove their fiscal responsibility, Twins ownership decided it couldn't afford to keep players like Torii Hunter and Johan Santana, players who might have put them over the top. Management has also taken the heat for bad trades, bets on bargain basement free agents, and a farm system that hasn't produced any significant talent.
The Twins have had a lot of stability at the manager position, and that's admirable in the current sports landscape. Tom Kelly, who led the team to World Series victories in 1987 and 1991, managed for 16 years. Gardenhire is currently in his 13th season. Both have been loyal to the organization, and thoroughly committed to the Twins way. And the organization rewards that loyalty. After the World Series victory in 1991, and a 92-win season in 1992, Kelly suffered through eight straight losing seasons, and the threat of contraction, before the Twins turned it around in 2001. Gardenhire was his heir, preaching the Twins way and overseeing the team's run of success in the first decade of the new century .
Still, it's hard to stay above the fray when you're the manager of a team that's had four straight 90-plus loss seasons. And Gardy just seems tired, all too often relying on the stock clichés about "tough nights" and "battling" in his post-game press conferences. While most fans recognize he doesn't have a lot of talent to work with, there's still a sense that another voice might be able inject some new energy, and get more out of the players than Gardy has been able to.
[Editors note: Ron Gardenhire was fired today]
[Editors note: Ron Gardenhire was fired today]
And maybe it's time for a change in the Twins way, which has become more of a term of ridicule than praise in this town. For years Twins fans have reflexively cringed every time they see a highlight of former Twin David Ortiz pulling a monstrous home run to right field at Fenway Park, something he's been doing regularly for the past 13 seasons. Ortiz came up with the Twins, and the club let him go in 2002 as a free agent after a few injury-plagued, underwhelming seasons. After signing with the Red Sox in 2003, all Ortiz has done is become one of the greatest clutch hitters of his generation and a future Hall of Famer. One of the keys to his success in Boston is that Red Sox coaches encouraged him to be a slugger, to use his size and strength to pull the ball to right field. Twins coaches had wanted him to focus more on hitting the ball up the middle and to the opposite field. Why? Because that was the Twins way. For an organization that's made a lot of smart moves, that was easily it's dumbest.
Touch me
take me to that other place
reach me
you know I'm not a hopeless case
I didn't feel very good about attending this game. I wanted to go with my daughter, Martha, but it was a school night, and she didn't really feel like going. But my wife and I have been separated for nearly a year, and Wednesday's are one of my nights with Martha. When I told my wife I was going to the game anyway, she was furious, with good reason. I chose a meaningless baseball game over spending a night with my daughter. It was a bad decision on my part, one of many thoughtless decisions I've made over the past year. But it was my last game of the season, and it was a beautiful night, and I wanted to be there, to be reminded why a meaningless baseball game in dreadful season can be a thing of joy and beauty and sadness. Just like life.
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