They say the night is always darkest just before dawn, so you could say Minnesota Twins fans waited 18 years and 363 days for their sunrise. Not only did their club end the dreaded 18-game postseason losing streak that had plagued their franchise since 2004, but they freed thousands of their faithful devotees from the shackles of a Minnesotan’s worst fear — a bad reputation.
Whether it was coming from a national pundit or a local talking head, there were seemingly constant talking points centered on the fact that Twins fans had gained a reputation for being angsty, temperamental, and jaded. In a recent conversation for The Athletic, Dan Hayes laid out a call to action directed at Twins fans attending the team’s Wild Card series against the Toronto Blue Jays.
“The idea is to make your park that extra man on the field. Twins fans seem to struggle with that at times,” he said. “Standing and shouting should not be discouraged. This is the playoffs. You want to win? You want the streak to end? Make your voice loud enough to distract the Twins’ opponents.”
Well, the 38,000 people at Target Field for the streak-busting win on Tuesday must have heard Hayes’ message loud and clear. The stadium was as thunderous as it’s ever been, shaking in unison as the fans within finally yeeted the monkeys from their backs. But that avalanche from the release at the end of Game 1 wasn’t the only image that will stick with attendees from the series. Through tense moments, thrilling surprises, and the baptizing moments of sweet victory, fans, and even players, experienced a wide range of emotions.
It all started with the pre-game festivities before the first game. A slow trickle of fans entering the stadium timidly began to transform into a raging stream of thousands rushing to disperse to their seats, like water creating its own canals to spread and quench the thirsty ground. Soon, the hordes of anxious fans found unison. Their rallying cries started as a scattered drumroll, and quickly found a cadence that became the heartbeat of the experience.
“I’ve been living in Minnesota for 26 odd years,” said a fan as she unzipped her windbreaker just enough to uncover her mouth. “I’ve loved the Twins this whole time. I’ve never seen the crowd get so into it. It’s absolutely incredible.”
A few key moments are bound to stick in the minds of those that were able to attend.
That elation that over 38,000 people felt in the opening innings of the first game was hit by the drenching of shock as they saw Bo Bichette rounding third base on a botched chopper to Twins third baseman Jorge Polanco. As the ball squeaked under his glove, the pulse of the crowd skipped a beat, as if everyone rushed to hold their breath at the same time.
“I just thought to myself ‘here we go again,’” recounted one fan. “It would be just so par for the course for this to happen at such a pivotal moment in the game.”
But shortstop Carlos Correa breathed new life into the ballpark, sprinting to barehand the rogue chopper and hurling the ball home as he dove headfirst into the third base line. Catcher Ryan Jeffers corralled the throw into his body and got the tag down cleanly — an underappreciated moment that saved the game for the Twins, and the breath of their eager fans. The shock they felt at the beginning of the play turned into pressure release like air from an over-filled tire. And that moment was just the appetizer for the main course of the final out of the game, where the North Loop erupted.
With so much sound bouncing off of the limestone, it was hard not to feel shell-shocked, like the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. No noise, the lasting imagery being thousands of jumping fans shaking the concourse, and an endless sea of red homer hankies twirling in the air.
“As silly as it sounds, this is what we’ve all been waiting for,” said a fan on the concourse after the game. “It felt like fans were part of the win, like we fueled the team.”
That was the curious juxtaposition between the two games. In Game 1, it felt like the fans propelled the Twins to success with unwavering sound. In Game 2, there was some early hesitancy, meaning that the team on the field had to feed the excitement in the crowd.
There was no shortage of pivotal moments in that second game that acted as the kindling, or even the gasoline that would transform the low flames to a raging fire. We saw Correa, who the nagging pain of plantar fasciitis had been hampered all season, leg out an infield single and go first to third on a base hit to center field. Fans took account of that effort on both accounts and rewarded him with fuel in their praise, especially as he stepped to the plate with the bases loaded in the bottom of the fourth inning.
Fans gave him their best drum roll of their own, and crashed a cymbal when he hit it up the middle and through the hole for an RBI single. His pickoff play with Sonny Gray in the top of the fifth inning will go down as the tipping point of the series, echoing through the minds of everyone who missed it on a constant loop.
Caleb Thielbar had another standout moment that the crowd’s reaction reflected. With the bases loaded, one out and the dangerous Matt Chapman up to bat, the southpaw got too much of the plate with a pitch and allowed a screaming line drive down the left-field line. While that liner hung in the air, the crowd held a pregnant pause, almost bracing for the impact of whatever was to come when it landed, like passengers on a plane that was making an emergency landing. Fortunately, it landed about two feet foul, blowing fresh air into the lungs of Twins’ faithful. The very next pitch, Thielbar induced an inning-ending, game-saving double play.
From that point on, the hordes of Twins fans didn’t let up. They’d been sitting on their hands periodically throughout this game, and not just from the chill of 25 MPH wind gusts. They were anxious. They had internalized doubt thanks to the 18-game playoff losing streak. And while that was finally snapped the day before, there were still the scars that told countless stories of heartbreak for a beleaguered fanbase.
It all culminated on the field when closer Jhoan Duran nailed down his second save in as many days, blowing a blazing fastball past the bat of Toronto’s Daulton Varsho.
“There were a lot of emotions in that moment, but mostly it just felt really nice,” Duran said through an interpreter, letting out a sigh of relief as the moment replayed in his eyes. “We know everything that this organization has gone through, and it felt nice to give this to the fans.”
Like many players, Minnesota’s closer felt grateful for the path that led him to that moment and its importance to his organization and the community that holds them up. And therein lies the aftereffect of a momentous two days in Minnesota Twins’ history.
For at least the next few days, Twins fans can bury that reputation they carried as an anxious, bitter fanbase that felt like they would never see a meaningful October win ever again. They can replace it with the reputation of gratefulness for these moments that they’ll replay for years to come, and the light of a new dawn.
