With snow falling precipitously, and the hangover of the holiday season settling in, it’s impossible not to wishfully envision the return of Major League Baseball this spring. But it will be 52 days until the Minnesota Twins take the field against the Tampa Bay Rays for their first spring training match-up of the year. In the meantime, I’m left to reflect on a disappointing season for our ballclub and pose to myself the annual question: “why can’t I quit the Minnesota Twins?” Typically, this question is rhetorical. Yet, with the few offseason moves having already either been celebrated or panned, I thought I’d spend time in the doldrums of winter answering this question.  

In 2005, the Minnesota Twins and third-year skipper, Ron Gardenhire, entered the season off a first-place finish in the AL Central the year before. While the club would finish above .500, they wouldn’t repeat as AL Central champions, falling to third in the division. This disappointing finish mattered less to me than a weeknight game in late August.  

On Tuesday, August 23, 2005, the Minnesota Twins entered play against the division-leading Chicago White Sox 9.5 games back. Though dim, hope remained of a playoff push, and with Johan Santana patrolling the mound, 33,572 ventured to the Metrodome to cheer on the Minnesota Twins. Just as Santana went to battle against the White Sox sluggers, my family and I undertook our own battle: a fraught relationship with time management. My family and I had tickets to this game, but with a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Wisconsin, a delayed start from our home, and Twin Cities traffic, we wouldn’t arrive until the game’s pivotal moment.  

I sulked in the car, knowing we would miss most of the game. Undeterred, however, my Mom and Dad hustled me through the billowing winds of the Metrodome’s entrance. We darted through the concourse, until the field came into view. The bottom of the eighth inning was just underway – did I mention we have a tenuous relationship with time management? – and the “thwack” of the bat snapped me out of my disappointment.  

Jacque Jones’ home run soared over the center field wall and ended Freddy Garcia’s no-hit bid. Joe Nathan would then enter in the ninth inning to clinch the Twins’ 1-0 victory. I don’t remember whether I had time to enjoy a Kramarczuk's brat that night– I suspect not – but I do know I wouldn’t trade this early Twins memory for anything (well, maybe for Zac Gallen).  

Baseball is unpredictable. A team can lose 88 games, finish in last place, and the following season, parade a World Series trophy down I-35.  Similarly, without a clock to dictate the game’s finish, a family can arrive long after the first pitch is thrown, but still witness the game’s decisive swing. All that’s promised is that in 89 days, each team will begin with the same record; the unpredictable unfolding 162 times over. That’s why I can’t quit the Minnesota Twins.