Right time and place for baseball

Please indulge the columnist, who comes now to wax nostalgic on baseball.

Just as soon as I figure out this George Will bow tie, we'll be all set.

I've lived in towns with minor league baseball teams. I've been to many Iowa Cubs games in Des Moines. I also made good use of the Sioux City Journal's seats at the Sioux City Explorer's games. Lewis and Clark Park was so intimate, you could check bats for cork from your seat. I once watched a fan yell, “You got no wheels,” to which the plodding base runner retorted, “I know I ain't got no (beeping) wheels!” Such a rich tapestry our pastime weaves.

But I've never attended a season opener in the chill of April. That changes tonight.

And that's because, for the first time, the home team, your Cedar Rapids Kernels, is the farm team for my team, the Minnesota Twins. And that's pretty cool. Nothing against the Angels. A fine organization. But I've been a Twins fan since T-ball.

I saw my first live Twins game in 1976. It was in Metropolitan Stadium. I was in Toughskins. We cruised up U.S. Highway 69 in my parents' '67 Malibu convertible.

I have a photo of my brother Joel, his friend, Steve, and this guy, standing by that car, the sunset casting a glow on the old Met. Pretty good day.

But my relationship with the Twins was mostly long-distance, and audio only. The console radio in our living room always was tuned to KGLO in Mason City. In the spring and summer, baseball was a constant companion. I recall sitting around in the afternoon, listening to the game. If you heard static, you'd look out the window to see if a storm was brewing.

Now I listen on my iPad. No static at all. Pity.

The baseball we heard wasn't always great. Then there was the thunderbolt of 1987. I was driving my dad's big 1981 Bonneville on Highway 69 when the Twins defeated Detroit to advance to the World Series. In all my excitement, I drove off the road.

Can you imagine if I had died before I saw the Twins play in the World Series?

In 1990, I started dating a girl at Drake. Turns out her mom was Twins owner Carl Pohlad's secretary. And in 1991, that meant World Series tickets. The relationship did not last. The memories of that remarkable October classic remain. Somebody get me a Homer Hanky, pronto.

So I'm in the right place at the right time again, with my own family. I think it will be a pretty good night, until the kids get cold, anyway.