The first game

I have an incredible memory of my childhood; vivid memories of things that happened when I was 2, 3, 4 years old. I recall riding with my dad in a very bouncy moving van when we moved in the summer of 1980–I wasn’t quite 3 years old. I’ve been able to recall for a friend and his parents, the fine details of a house they once lived in–I was no more than four or five when they lived there. My friend, who is the same age as me, has virtually no memory of the house. 

Another childhood event I recall in great detail is the first time I saw inside a ballpark. When we would drive from our home in central Minnesota, to my grandparents in St. Paul, we drove right by Metropolitan Stadium, in Bloomington. “The Met” was home to the Vikings and Twins through the 1981 seasons, when they moved into the Metrodome. 

On one of those trips to or from my grandparents, my dad pulled the car in the parking lot of The Met, hoping he could sneak in and show me the inside. We found an open gate, walked up some stairs and emerged into the park somewhere behind home plate. I recall gazing in wonder at a field, which except for the lack of fans, looked just like it does in the photo below. I clearly remember the field was striped and painted for a Vikings game, and the infield dirt was present. The date couldn’t have been any later than 1981; my birthday is in early September (maybe the reason we were at my grandparents), so I couldn’t have been any older than four. Even at that age, I remember it perfectly. 

When I knew I was going to be a parent myself, things like this impromptu visit to see the inside of the Met stuck in my mind. It was a small thing, not even a gameday, just a peek, but I never forgot it. Someday I wanted to be able to provide those same kinds of moments for my own kids.

On Sunday, I took our son Edwin to his first game. He’s two months short of four and this was the first time he’d seen the inside of a ballpark. It was amazing to watch him take in the wonder of it all. We saw a little bit of the game, had a lot of food, and explored all the nooks and crannies of Target Field–he loved every minute of it.

If good memories are hereditary, he will hopefully have fond memories of the first time he saw a ballpark.