The Days of Beer and Baseball

Low miles
Lots of smiles
(Maybe just a little barf on the right rear door)





"I got 'em!"
My fellow high school buddy John Hall, exclaimed.
He held in his hands the tickets we and other junior class degenerates: Erickson, Borchard, and Boyd had ordered for the April, something game between the Minnesota Twins and the Baltimore Orioles that was to be played at Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington, Minnesota. It was the stuff of dreams. We had been planning this for months with nearly as much attention to detail as Ike employed for the Normandy invasion. Though I don't remember the specific date, it was a weekday and we knew that this would be an adventure that held the promise of LEGEND.


As I recall, we had forged school excuses for each other that had somehow past muster and had conned Hall's mom into loaning him her 64' Caddy for the day. (I believe John had given her some crack brained story about needing the car to help transport orphans or something.) Whatever it was...it worked.

So there we were...the smartest kids in all of northwest Iowa heading out that early weekday morning from the confines of our parents and the small town of Spencer, Iowa destined for Minneapolis, professional baseball and whatever big city adventures awaited us. A slice of 17 year-old heaven!

The trip north, approximately 200 miles, was carefree and exciting. Though Neil Armstrong had yet to set foot on the surface of the moon, I think the five of us had that same "one giant step for mankind" vibe coursing collectively through us. No parents, no school, keys to the car and...MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL all in one day. Hot damn!

We arrived at "The Met" in Bloomington, a Minneapolis suburb, with plenty of time to spare. We had planned it that way as we wanted to catch batting practice and maybe, if we were lucky, have a chance to chat with some of the players. The Twins, if memory serves, were not expected to contend for the pennant in 1965 but Baltimore boasted both Frank and Brooks Robinson and several other memorable players. We really didn't care. We were just damned excited to be seeing a professional baseball game. It was the Big time.

Our seats were great...box seats along first baseline. The sun was out, but it was chilly and the crowd was sparse. This was, after all, Minneapolis in April. The national anthem had been sung; Jim Kaat was winding up to hurl the first pitch...and then we heard it.

"Beer here...get your ice cold beer here!" The vendors were in full tilt sales mode and since there wasn't much of a crowd they were circling the areas where the most likely customers were seated. "Ice cold Hamms...get your ice cold Hamms beer here!"

I don't remember who held up their hand first. I do know that it wasn't me. Never in a million years did I think that any of these guys would believe that a single one of us was 21 and it didn't enter my mind that they might not care. They just wanted to make a buck. (Which by the way was what a beer in the stands at a Twins game went for in those days.) Whatever. Boyd, Borchard, Erickson, somebody held up their hand and said, "Right here".

WHAT AN AFTERNOON! To this day I am certain that several of the beer vendors at "The Met" were able to retire after selling out their inventory to the kids from Iowa who had a talent for dissipation that is probably still talked about throughout the upper Midwest. I know that we all had at least one beer per inning...Probably more. I can still see the tidal wave of cups and empty bottles of Hamms that encased our feet. It's surprising that we were able to stand and emerge from the malt beverage effluvia when the game ended.
The score? I haven't a clue.

I am ashamed to relate that we did drive home. And yes, I'm sure, Jesus must have taken the wheel. Somewhere south of Mankato Erickson stuck his head out the right rear window and deposited the day's hotdogs and the "ever so delicious" Hamms beer all over the side of Mrs. Hall's Caddy. We got most of it off at the robo-wash. (see picture above)

We were never caught in our web of deceit and, until today, the story has remained a secret.
Non of the names were changed to protect the guilty.

PLAY BALL!

(Is anybody else thirsty?)