The Twins will need a new stadium to survive. Among its many other deficiencies, the Metrodome turf—stained, faded, worn to a nubbin—resembles the surface of a seedy barroom pool table. "Every time I dive on it," says Hunter, "I'm worried I'll start a fire."
Still, it will do for now. For this team has died, seen the white light and is returned to life. "We know that the best way to prove someone wrong," says Hocking, "is to be winning on the field in September." The Twins, and their fans, think they can do just that.
They think they can, they think they can, they think they can. This is, for the moment, the Little Market That Could.