Vikings

by G. Sax

After 30 years as a Minnesota Vikings fan, I know what it is to be a Cubs fan. You want to believe, but it’s so very difficult. It’s always something. Like 5 turnovers or Gary Anderson or Darrin Nelson or Denny Green.

Baseball (Despite It All) Is Good

by G. Sax

I haven’t written much about baseball in the last couple of years. It’s not like the world needs another essay about the sport. Millions of words are written about baseball everyday, and I know I’m not exaggerating.

Every major league team, affiliated minor league team, independent minor league team, international team, college team, high school team, American Legion team, Babe Ruth team, Cal Ripken team, Little League team, …

Baseball is part of the everyday coverage of the society in which we live. Local newspapers, ESPN, radio talk, blogs, student papers, desktop newsletters… Okay, I’ll stop. Point is this: I write this for the love of this.

And, yeah, baseball has its problems. Barry Bonds and his unapologetic cheating. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa and their equally annoying “I ain’t never did done nobody wrong” shrug. The everpresent used car salesman sheen of Bud Selig. The strike. And even my hometown St. Paul Saints—the onetime can-do-no-wrong independent baseball team that housed the villainry of Daryl Strawberry and J.D. Drew and were still beloved—left the friendly geographical confines of the Northern League to play with teams nobody in Minnesota cares about in Texas, Louisiana, and Florida.

But baseball is still so ingrained in my summer lifestyle that it’ll take a lot more Palmeiro lies, Canseco shenanigans, and Alou urine to turn me off.

Midway Stadium, 2006

by G. Sax

Saints vs. Fort Worth Cats in June. Saints vs. Lincoln Saltdogs on my birthday in July. Saints vs. Sioux City Explorers with Carly’s sister. Saints vs. St. Joe’s Blacksnakes with the kids in August. Saints vs. Cats in September. I still consider a game by the railroad tracks in St. Paul one of the hottest baseball tickets in the nation.

I do, however, find it difficult to get up for a game that completely lacks any sort of natural geographical rivalry. For the first Fort Worth game, I hung out in the lot until about the 7th inning, just to express my displeasure (and tailgate).

The Saltdogs tilt was more entertaining, what with the all-out brawl to start the game, the Sister Ros “bobble hands” giveaway, and the extra innnings walk-off HR win despite five errors. Oh, and the game was free, courtesy of Western Graphics. In fact, they provided the tickets for the St. Joe’s game. The daughter-thing got to run the bases for that Sunday game.

Also made it to the second-to-last game of the season. It could’ve been the last one if they’d won it and the championship, but they tanked out in the cold. I had me a grand old time though. Parking lot mostly empty. Stadium mostly empty. Belly full. The next day, the Saints lost the championship to the Ft. Worth Cats, but then won later in the day by not getting into trouble with the law.

The story goes that some Cats and Saints were enjoying a beverage down the way from Midway at Half Time Rec. when a couple of surly Cats came in and started some shit. Next thing you know, a retiring cop is being choked and two ballplayers end up celebrating their “victory” in jail and were likely kicked off the team.

With stories like that in the headlines, independent ball will quickly go from fun novelty to bush league dumb. Jose Canseco in the Golden League, the Schaumburg Flyers as the official “you run the team!” league of MSN, and the ill-fated video game to real game stunt of last year’s Northern League. These are all downer moves, not up. Thank goodness for the likes of the Northwoods League.

Miller Park, 2006

by G. Sax

Brewers vs. Cardinals. As per usual when I visit Milwaukee, the away team trounced the Brew Crew. But I did see a whole lot of longball and some good, old friends. Mad respect to the Cardinals faithful who lit the dull greens of interior Miller with a wild showcase of reds.

Summer Baseball, 2005

Opening Night, 2004

by G. Sax

Opening Night in MLB. I got to wear my Orioles colors again as I celebrated the holiday in a den of Red Sox fandom in Santa Rosa, California. Mostly I’m a Twins fan, but I also claim the Giants, Brewers, A’s, Orioles, and Expos as “home” teams when circumstance arises.

Mostly I dig baseball. Even with the inflated salaries, the steroid scandals, and the fuckin’ Yankees.

I love the parking lot at Midway Stadium in St. Paul, I love getting off the train at Wrigley Field, I love a schorching day for a RiverCats game in Sacramento, I love the way the night lights shine in urban glamour over a Redbirds game in Memphis. I love my memories of watching defunct teams like the Thunder Bay Whiskey Jacks and the Solano Steelheads. I love the wartime brick of Wade Stadium in Duluth, Minnesota.

But all that said, I’m still more of a football guy.