The Twins were smitten the night they returned from Detroit—where they had just beaten the Tigers to win the American League pennant—and found 55,000 people waiting for them in the Metrodome for what had to be the largest surprise party in history. After that, the Twins couldn't help but win at home, which was a good thing, since they couldn't help but lose on the road.
After third baseman Gary Gaetti threw over to Hrbek at first for the final out of the Series, all sorts of nice little scenes took shape. The Twins formed a huge pileup in the infield. Delirious strangers embraced in the stands. Manager Tom Kelly, an unsentimental man, stayed in the dugout, hugging his batboys.
The best was yet to come. The Twins, more intent on thanking their fans than on drinking champagne, trooped back onto the field half an hour after ABC-TV signed off. They basked in the glow, reunited themselves with their families and, one by one, took the stadium microphone to try to express their feelings. "We've been in a lot of towns and we've seen a lot of fans," Gaetti told the crowd. "They were good in St. Louis—but you blew 'em away."
Then the Twins did a slow victory lap, walking around the perimeter of the field. There were, I might add, no attack dogs, no mounted policemen, no fans rushing onto the field. Outside, in the streets of Minneapolis, there was very little mayhem. Just happiness.
Shakespeare, in a moment of clarity worthy of Yogi Berra, wrote, "Sweets with sweet war not, joy delights in joy." Delight in 1987, which had more than enough joy to go around. Take whatever snapshot you like into '88. I'll take one of Bert Blyleven and the other guys walking around the Metrodome, thanking the people.