How the Minnesota Twins and Hammond Stadium Helped me Fall in Love with Baseball
It's February, 2007. Fort Myers, Florida.
When I was a teenager, Fort Myers was a tropical paradise that we only visited in winter. A place we’d go to see my Minnesota Twins do early spring training workouts.
My dad used to drop me off at Hammond Stadium in the morning—before anyone else arrived—glove on my left hand, jersey on my back, and five-dollar bill in my pocket to buy a bratwurst for lunch.
The only thing that could’ve made me happier on those February days was getting on the field with my heroes.
“In a few years,” I said to myself, “I’ll be one of them.”
Joe Mauer working on throws in the dirt as closer Joe Nathan (#36) and backup catcher Mike Redmond (#55) look on.
I stood near the locker room entrance, already hot in the early Florida sun. I said hello to all of my favorite players as they walked sleepily into the stadium.
“Good morning, Mr. Hunter! Hello, Mr. Mauer! Good morning, Mr. Morneau!”
And they acknowledged me, every one of them. They sounded a bit surprised, though, because spring training games wouldn’t start for another week and I was the only person at the stadium who wasn’t paid to be there.
They took batting practice on the backfields. I watched from right-field foul territory with my cap turned backward so I could stick my freckled nose through the chain links. I was nearly close enough to smell their sunscreen and sweat.
Over at the bullpen, I gripped my clawed fingers through the fence. More fans might show up after lunchtime, but for the moment it was just the pitcher, catcher, coach, and me. Quietly I strained to hear the conversation between coach and player on the mound.
Bullpen session, unidentified pitchers.
I could see myself in that same place: wearing the jersey of my favorite team, having a coach put his hand on my shoulder and whisper those same mystical secrets to me.
The day’s workouts eventually ended and, long after the other fans had left, I said goodbye to the players as they exited the complex. They each said goodbye back to me.
A photographer from the Fort Myers News-Press took a picture of me staring through the fence one time. He asked where I was from so he could put my hometown underneath the photo.
“Elk River, Minnesota,” I said.
2006 AL MVP Justin Morneau (#33) gets some extra work in the cages before 2007 spring training.
“You look like you want to be out there with them,” he said, pointing with his pen. He showed me the picture on his digital camera and I could see my mouth wide open, gaping in awe.
The cameraman must’ve heard me wrong. When I found the picture on the News-Press website, the caption said I was a young fan from Oak River, Minnesota, a place that doesn’t exist...
Continued in Chapter 1 of Clubbie:
