Ode to the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome

There once lived a stadium, in a land oh-so-cold
That had grown, for its fans, just a little too old
The fate of this field in Minneapolis-St. Paul
Would be sealed the first time that its home team did fall

The home nine- the Twins- fought long and played tough
But it looked like the roster would not be enough
The rotation had suffered from blow after blow
And the lineup was missing its vaunted Morneau

The Dome would be closed if they lost just one game
The Tigers of Detroit would take all the blame
The young hurler Porcello could throw quite a heater
And the lineup was led by a fat, drunk wife-beater

The team took the field and the fans cheered aloud
If this was the last game, they’d do the Dome proud
They put their hopes in the bat of Joe Mauer
But they did not know of the stadium’s full power

There were World Series tales of the fans blowing in
But everyone thought that was the groundskeeper’s sin
Little did they know that those hits that were blown
Were kept in by a park with a life of its own

The proof is quite clear, the evidence quite deep
Do you really think Puckett had a forty inch leap?
And Hrbek never had to bodyslam Gant
Since the field knocked him down by taking a slant

On this day in October, the Dome refused to yield
To its shiny new rival they call Target Field
Open air, angled seats, are as nice as they seem
But no match for a park that can help out its team

It looked like the Twins would be cast out in the cold
When the drunk hit a shot not even the baggie could hold
Baker looked gassed, his year nearly done
When the Tigers led through three innings, three runs to none

The situation looked hopeless, as it had most the year
Til their redneck skipper absolved them of fear
Scoring two off Porcello proved quite the feat
Then Cabrera hit a drive the Dome blew to the seats

The score tied to the twelfth, the crowd felt a twinge
When the bases were loaded and the pitcher hit Inge
The ump called it a ball, Detroit didn’t know why
But the Dome had blown dust in the umpire’s eye

As the game wore on and the pitchers all tired
It became clear the Dome would not retire
Two routine grounders anywhere else on the Earth
Turned into a run on the hard Astroturf

So the Dome will live on, at least for a day
To torment opponents and dictate the play
As fly balls get lost amidst the roof and Homer Hankies
The fans and the Dome chant “Bring on the Yankees!”