The Metrodome had totally blossomed as the Minnesota sports mecca. How different was our world. The Internet and all its associated gadgets and distractions had not yet entered our lives.
I smile as I reflect on Van Slooten's comments, as he came across as so Minnesotan. He showed a Minnesotan's defensiveness. He talked about the weaknesses of our Twins team that might make observers skeptical of how we could win the championship. Such weaknesses were easy to cite. But could you imagine the people of New York City giving a rat's patootie over how one of their teams might not be "deserving?" Heck no, they'd bathe in unbridled pleasure over a championship. They'd expect the whole nation, and maybe world, to pay homage.
The East Coast with its powerful media presence would have an entitled feeling about the attention it received. For the Yankees to excel would be "just the way things were meant to be." But out here in the Midwest, the place called "Flyoverland" by the Eastern types, well, we had to fight to project our legitimacy. There was an element in the media that seemed condescending and not all that impressed about our success. There was a network broadcast guy - was it Jack Buck? - who intoned "homer dome" in a way that I'm sure was intended to be disparaging. The suggestion was that the home runs would be cheap here. But would any kind of dig like this be directed at a New York City sports venue, by the East Coast media?
Fenway Park: charming, or a mutant?
Could you imagine a ballpark like Boston's Fenway existing in Minnesota? What about the weird dimensions, the cheap doubles and the "Green Monster." We were taught to think the place was charming. You couldn't get away with a ballpark like that in Flyoverland.
The 1987 World Series went to seven games. That would usually make it a candidate for greatness. I'm not sure it has ever been embraced that way. We beat the Cardinals, another team far from the East Coast media concentration. When Roger Angell wrote a book reviewing seasons of the '60s, he titled his chapter about our 1965 Minnesota Twins "West of the Bronx." Ugh. That was the book in which Angell rather famously used "airy cyclotron" to describe our Metropolitan Stadium, Bloomington.
The Metrodome surely injected new life into our Twins. The owners are not dummies: they know when certain cities simply must get new venues. I attended a game during the 1987 stretch drive. I attended with high school friend and classmate Art Cruze. It was a classic day of success reflecting the euphoria of that season for Twins fans. The tall Mike Smithson, who seemed in a period of decline, was our starting pitcher that day, trying to coax one more decent performance from his arm. The P.A. announcer intoned "Mike Smithson!" in the opening as if he, too, was trying to coax that superior performance. We indeed won that day thanks to a dramatic late home run by Tom Brunansky.
Van Slooten had the pleasure of being there for the World Series. The homer hanky erupted as a symbol for our success. Emotions were brimming. That chapter of Minnesota history is receding into the past. Someday you'll be an "old-timer" if you reflect on watching that Series in person or on TV.
Oh, there were reasons for Minnesotans feeling defensive in a way articulated by Van Slooten. Such comments were in line with the famous book "How to Speak Minnesotan" by Howard Mohr. We know we are as smart as people in other parts of the country. But we know there's a general perception that we are a step or two behind in terms of our culture. The Yankees had a storied reputation before the Twins even came into existence. Well, so what? The practicality of plane travel meant that big league ball could span the nation. There was a time when the Pacific Coast League had talent commensurate with the true big leagues. Back then, "a trip west" in the majors meant going to St. Louis! Imagine that.
Well, times change and progress proceeds. A new norm set in, wherein the Twin Cities could be just as legitimate a base for big-time sports as anywhere else. And, "West of the Bronx" was hardly an acceptable way to describe it. Angell was a writer for the New Yorker. We were conscious in 1987 that we had to reach a little further to make a truly positive impression on the rest of the world. We felt it important not only to try to win the World Series, but to put on a good show, to show we were on par with the spectacles of the East Coast. The Yankees could play in a dull World Series, but our Twins would not be allowed to. The Yankees, still with Mickey Mantle, lost the 1963 World Series to the Dodgers in four games. Surely it was a yawner. But the '63 campaign gets filed away in baseball annals with the Yankees still exuding glory.
I was nine years old when the Yankees won their last pennant of that glory era for them. The Yankees' mystique was impressed on my brain. Could the Twins ever reach such status? And would a World Series championship ever be good enough to realize that? Fans all over like Van Slooten had that element of defensiveness wedged into their heads.
Credentials were somewhat suspect
Yes, there were reasons to be a little skeptical of the 1987 Twins. We were less than stellar when playing on the road. We were outscored in the regular season! Our pitching was less than overwhelming. St. Louis manager Whitey Herzog said it was a shame that Detroit didn't win the American League pennant.
We sure asserted ourselves early in the '87 Series, taking games 1 and 2 by scores of 10-1 and 8-4. Our fan base with the hankies was manic. Heh, heh. Kent Hrbek hit a grand slam in Game 6. There were parades in the Twin Cities after the Series, on a level that might be expected with the U.S. winning a world war (or with General MacArthur "coming home").
The same generation of players and fans had a redux in 1991, of course. The script for the '91 Series was even better than for 1987, if you can believe it. You can easily argue that the '91 World Series was up there with the greatest ever - perhaps it was the best ever. Ah, but the Flyoverland stigma was still there. If the '91 Series was indeed the best, movies should have been made about it, as would be the case if a New York City team was in it. But alas we weren't totally "hip" with our image yet. I think that because of the electronic communications of today, there are no isolated places anymore. No more reason to invoke "Flyoverland" at all.
A level playing field everywhere?
A young person might read my post today and wonder what I'm talking about: the references to defensiveness. Well, I'll have you know that everything I'm touching on is real. We worried about how the East Coast media would perceive us, the Roger Angell types. I think that old template is wiped away now, very thankfully.
Another thing has changed. Due to the infamous players strike of 1994 (or what they would call the "work stoppage" because the two sides in something like this can't agree on anything), many fans like me permanently lost their emotional attachment to the game. I have never been the same. So, never again would I join any berserk mob in celebrating the Twins' success. The extended nature of the 1994 strike and its bitterness forced me to adjust some of my habits. Maybe it's actually for the better. But I still have those golden memories of 1987 and 1991, and let's not forget 1965 too. It was pre-strike and pre-Internet.We as human beings just plunge forward, continually adapting to our environment. Alas, I wax philosophical.
I can never resist trying to pen an alternate history about how we could have won the 1965 Series in Game 7. Bob Allison was the last batter. What if he had homered?
Personal tribute in music
I have written a song about the 1987 Twins season. It's simply called "Nineteen Eighty-seven." It has a slow and dreamy feeling, not suitable for percussion backing, just a lilting piano sound. Every third paragraph has a bridge melody. I like it. Will I have it recorded? Maybe someday. In the meantime, let's just remember.
"Nineteen Eighty-seven"
by Brian Williams
We reached up to the sky
In nineteen eighty-seven
Our Twins were flying high
They gave us seventh heaven
Their engines just kept revvin'
In nineteen eighty-seven
We hadn't been this far
since nineteen sixty-five
We wished upon a star
To keep that dream alive
We'd give the ball ride
Like in sixty-five
Our team made its debut
In nineteen sixty-one
It was a motley crew
That came from Washington
And gave us all that fun
In nineteen sixty-one
We took the Western crown
Nary was a frown
We played the game so fine
With Harmon in his prime
In nineteen sixty-nine
We did the best we could
With Billy Martin gone
We had to knock on wood
That life would just go on
Bats would still go long
Sing that winning song
The years meandered by
We still loved Killebrew
The decibels stayed high
We got the great Carew
And Lyman Bostock too
But his days were too few
In nineteen eighty-seven
Nintendo was in vogue
We walked like an Egyptian
And watched the Cosby Show
Our Twins were in their Dome
Feelin' right at home
With Teflon overhead
Our heroes took the field
The Cardinals were in red
They topped the other league
With Whitey in the lead
But could he make us bleed?
With Hrbek playing first
And Puckett out in center
Gaetti parked at third
And Laudner there at catcher
It couldn't get much better
Destiny unfettered
We sizzled at the start:
A 10-1 final score
We felt it in our heart
And knew there would be more
Success would be in store
Knocking down that door
We triumphed in Game 7
Such rapture on the field
Because of all those weapons
We finally sealed the deal
We were on top for real
We heard it from Carneal
In nineteen eighty-seven
© Copyright 2018 Brian R. Williams
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