I’ll point to a recap I did a couple of years ago, when Clemens returned to the mound. It was probably the last night everyone in America (who was a baseball fan) didn’t know the name Liriano.

My top 2 were both in 2006. One was the July pitchers duel between Santana and Schilling. If you remember, the Twins beat the Red Sox 5-2 on a come-from-behind, walk-off grand slam by Jason Kubel in the 11th. That’s probably the best game I’ve ever attended.

It’s not the most memorable, however. That was Oct 2nd, 2006 when the Twins beat the Bitch Sox on the final day of the season. It was more memorable, obviously, because the Royals came back from down 6-0 to beat the Tigers in extra innings in Detroit and give the Twins the division title. I’ll never forget 40,000 Twins fans chanting “Let’s go Royals!” during a Twins game.

I was in the second row of section 225, right behind home plate. Gladden hit the first pitch foul straight back, and the drunk dude in front of me jumped up and knocked it out of my glove and down into the lower deck. Doh!. But everything else about that game went well. Kirby stole the show. I remember walking back to Hennepin Avenue after the game to catch my bus, and feeling like I was just gliding along without actually toughing the ground as pandemonium broke out in the streets downtown. I could barely hear anything, so the whole experience was other worldly.

Mine is the same as Flip27… I reserved tickets to the last game of the 2006 season early in the year, just knowing I would want to be at the last game. It was my first year as a season ticket holder, yet we wouldn’t move up to Minneapolis until August 1. (Thank god for the Flex 40). No one could have known in April what would transpire for the Twins over the course of that magical season, but right around the time I got into town, we could see something amazing was going on. The Twins just kept winning, and kept winning, and so did the Tigers.

I don’t recall how many the Twins ripped off in a two-three week span, only to see the deficit in the standings stay nearly the same as the Tigers matched them. Then, as the season was winding down, the Tigers cooled off. I remember counting down with my new friends in town what the magic number was, and it was always still manageable… a half game here with a win on a Tigers’ off day, a whole game when the Tigers lost, and sometimes losing ground with a loss… it was literally a day-to-day checkup on that magic number.

And for some reason, our boys were all ON at the end of that summer. Boof’s curveball was nasty, I still haven’t seen it bite as hard as it did in September of ’06. Nick Punto was scrappily getting on base and putting up numbers above his head. Brad Radke came back emotionally with his shoulder held together with "fish glue," as Bat Girl was apt to say. Morneau was growing into the hitter we all thought he could be. Johan was Johan, cinching the Cy Young and the Strikeout crown. There was a magic in the air.

I couldn’t believe it when the Royals took the first two games from Detroit in that last series. As we woke up Sunday and prepared to walk down to the Dome, I said to my wife, “The Twins could win the division today.” This was so ridiculous to me, but I was so excited. Anyone who watches that game will remember that our boys put away the Sox away early behind a good performance by Silva and another lights-out day from the bullpen. Jeter sat early in the Yankee game, and Mauer took a really nice curtain call when it was announced that he had clinched the batting title, the first time ever for an catcher to ever lead BOTH leagues in hitting. So, we started scoreboard watching. EVERYONE was scoreboard watching.

The Tigers HAD to LOSE, as you recall. They owned the season series against the Twins, so all they needed was one game against hapless Kansas City to have sole claim to the division. They had to lose for the Twins to take sole claim of first place for the first time that year. Remember that, too? The Twins never had first place in the division until well after they had made the last out in their last game. Crazy.

The rest was history. The Sox probably got to MSP pretty quickly, I guarantee they were out of the building before 99% of the fans were. The Twins were watching in the clubhouse, until they heard that no fans had yet left the stadium. They came out to the dugout and watched with us. I remember Torii throwing damned protocol to the wind, and firing up the crowd by whipping his towel around in the air.

When the Royals made that last out, the place went nuts. Players were celebrating with fans, making laps and slapping hands, people who’d never met were hugging each other, Unbelievable.

Looking back, it wasn’t even the best baseball game I’d ever seen, but hands-down the best sports experience I have ever had.

Sorry about the sprawling entry… I know most of you folks have a memory of that day that’s just like mine, so a lot of it will seem redundant… it was just fun to remember.

August 22, 1991 – Twins vs. Seattle at the Dome. Nine-year-old me was there, sitting in the bleachers in lower left field. The Twins muddled through an awful performance, and trailed 4-1 heading into the ninth.

And then… Al Newman drew a one-out walk. And then Knoblauch singled to shortstop, putting runners on first and second. And the ageless Randy Bush came to the plate…and DEEP TO RIGHT….

Gone. 4-4 tie.

In the 10th, Scott Leius blasted one about 25 rows deep to left – about ten seconds after my Dad said, “I think he’s going to go deep here” – and the Twins won 5-4.

My other favorite was my first game, when I was five, in 1968 at the old met. My brothers and I piled into a neighbors’ car and ended up sitting in the upper deck along the first base line. I remember every time Killer came up, folks who were chatting would stop talking and pay attention. Then every time he hit a fly ball (he hit a lot of warning track fly balls), everybody would stand up and watch, which was a problem for me because I was only three feet tall. I ended up standing on my seat and trying to peer over the fans ahead of me. In the seventh, when Killer came up for the third time, our neighbors dad bet me a nickle that he’d hit one out. I took the bet even though I only had a nickle to my name. He won the bet, and it was the best nickle I’ve ever spent.