Target Field is Haunted

Nick Punto does push ups. - Elsa

The Twins' clubhouse at Target Field is haunted. It's true. I haven't told anyone this story before, but I'm ready to share my sordid tale. Last summer, I was at a function in the offices of Target Field. It was a really swanky affair, but a little stuffy for my liking. I figured, when will I ever have a chance to wander around a baseball stadium? I started exploring and eventually found myself at the front of the clubhouse door. I knew I shouldn't go in there, but not for the reasons I would come to find out.

I slowly opened the door, hoping I wouldn't set off an alarm. The door creaked loudly as it moved. I looked around sheepishly and entered the clubhouse. Once inside I saw the lockers used by my baseball heroes. There were jerseys hanging, sunflower seeds everywhere and an ominous feeling that I couldn't shake. I thought I was just feeling guilty about this minor felony I had committed. I decided to head out, satisfied with this fleeting, but monumental experience.

Just as I started to exit, I heard a voice. It sounded far away, but right next to me all at once. I assumed I was just hearing things, so I headed for the exit once more. The lights dimmed.

Aren't you forgetting something?

That time I knew I had heard something. I was frozen; this wasn't normal. I looked behind me, hoping I had simply been caught by someone in stadium security.

You can't leave yet.

I saw something I will never forget. Standing before me was the ghost of Kent Hrbek. I was confused. Kent Hrbek is alive and ghosts don't exist. Now more confused than scared, I was barely able to ask what I was witnessing.

When players leave the Twins, their ghosts stay behind.

That makes sense. Wait, was Ghost Kent Hrbek about to be my guide through a fantastic journey or perhaps voyage? As I gathered my wits, I waited for more sage advice from my new spirit guide.

You're forgetting something.

I couldn't think straight. I couldn't remember ANYTHING in that moment. I was literally forgetting everything.

You're forgetting how important it is to stay comfortable. With Carrier heating and cooling products, you'll always stay comfy and with Carrier's team of experts, you can rest easy knowing that any hiccups with your system will be handled by a team of professionals...

Ghost Kent Hrbek was peddling Carrier products to me? After listening for a minute or so longer, I realized that Ghost Hrbek and I were not alone in that clubhouse. At a nearby table, Ghost Jose Mijares was eating sausage links like he was in a cartoon. He wasn't even using his hands. He was just easing a new link down his throat every few seconds. It was a sight.

Over by some lockers, Ghost Michael Cuddyer was talking up some Ghost Reporters. He was really yuckin' it up. I think he was doing card tricks. They were eating the whole routine with a spoon. I'm not sure why, but they all had little cards that said "press" in their hats.

...when you buy a Carrier, you also get...

I had pretty much tuned out Ghost Hrbek's pitch at this point. I started to investigate a little further. Seated on the other side of the clubhouse, Ghost Brad Radke and Ghost Joe Mauer were having a staring contest. Or, they were just sitting there vacantly. It was hard to tell.

Ghost Drew Butera was diligently cleaning Ron Gardenhire's office. He was doing a great job; he even moved the furniture to vacuum those tough-to-reach places. When he was done, he navigated the furniture right back into the grooves they had made in the carpet. Professional stuff. His past role on this team was making more and more sense to me.

Just as I was getting comfortable with my surroundings, and without warning, my pants were at my ankles. I hadn't felt a thing, but I definitely had been pants'd. I turned around slowly. Standing naked, eating an apple and wearing a newspaper hat was none other than Ghost Mike Redmond. He stood there confidently as if he was trying to hypnotize me into looking down at his junk.

I obliged.

BANG! Apple core right to the temple. Before my very eyes, Redmond sprouted wings and ascended to the ceiling. He shot shaving foam with an intense precision. I'd have thought he'd had a million arms. I was coated in menthol foam. The lights dimmed even more and a single, pulsing strobe light came from out of nowhere.

Ghost Nick Punto sprinted in out of nowhere, completely covered in grass stains. He bellowed a rebel yell and then performed "Rebel Yell" by Billy Idol.

It was terrifying and spectacular at the same time.

Ghost Gene Larkin appeared out of thin air. He sang a few bars of "Jingle Bells" and then laughed like a complete maniac. He held his fist high as he laughed.

My heart was racing, I knew I needed to get out of there. Ghost Redmond was still on the ceiling. Ghost Cuddyer was regaling an anecdote about Virginia. Ghost Punto was kneeling, looking to the sky and repeatedly punching his chest. Ghost Mauer was pretty much just sitting there.

...without a Carrier, you'd be up a...

Out of my way, Ghost Hrbek! I whizzed past him, headed for the exit. Ghost Mijares was drinking chocolate milk from a trough. Even more unsettling, Ghost Juan Berenguer was waiting for me at the door.

Do you want to see what's under my trenchcoat?

This exit was sealed, I needed a different way out. Ghost Punto was doing push-ups.


Ghost Redmond had soaked my pants in the toilet and put them in the freezer. He would not stop thrusting. I knew would need to escape sans-pants. Ghost Punto had broken all of the wooden furniture. He had started a pretty large fire and was repeatedly jumping over it on a horse.

Just then, I felt a very slight tap on my nose. I looked down and saw an actual baseball lying nearby. Ghost Terry Mullholland was about 60 feet away.

Did I hurt you with my heater?

I didn't have the heart to tell him no. I didn't have time for it either. The Punto fire was getting larger and larger. Punto and Redmond were head-butting each other far more than I was comfortable with. Redmond was somehow more naked than before. Hrbek was filling my shirt pocket with Carrier brochures. Larkin was still laughing. Mauer...Mauer still looked unfazed.

Just then, Ghost Kevin Slowey appeared.

I know a way out. Follow me.

Slowey navigated the ghosts and fires like a seasoned veteran. He avoided the crowd of star-crossed reporters at Ghost Cuddyer's locker. He walked right past Larkin and now Punto laughing like two deranged Soda Popinskis. He put Mauer's hat back on his head. He ignored Redmond's request to pull his finger.

At long last, we reached a hidden side door and Slowey let me out.

I thanked Slowey for his guidance. I still couldn't believe what I had witnessed. Ghosts of living players in the Target Field clubhouse? Some of those guys never even played at Target Field. Surely, no one would believe any of this. Slowey advised me not to tell anyone. I agreed. I mean, who would believe the fires, the foam, the horse, the sausage links, the secret door...

Actually, no one will believe that I'm not a dick.

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