Paula Maki Biondich

Friday, May 7, 2010

The bird that binds.

Last night's Twins/Orioles game at Target Field was, quite literally, a wash. First off, the Orioles snagged a 2-0 lead early in the game, which they held until the end. Second, Mauer wasn't playing. Neither was Hardy. Oh and did I mention it RAINED THE ENTIRE TIME. For my first exposure to Target Field, last night's game could have possibly been the most boring professional baseball game I ever attended in my life.

Except it wasn't.

Perched high atop the right field foul pole was a hawk. Just sitting there, chilling. But when the lights came on to illuminate the moths, the hawk went for the kill, scooping down for its moth prey at fever pitch, only to return gracefully to the pole. And the hawk did this again. And again and again and again.

1 out. Bases loaded. Double-play.

2 outs. Runner on third. He swings and...fly ball.

Potty break.

Ground out to first.

For most of last night's game, sections 100-102 sat on wet seats, huddled under ponchos, sipping $5 hot chocolates and eating moist Dugout Dogs while trying not to yawn too loud. But when the hawk flew on its routine hunt for dinner, it unknowingly entertained thousands of soaked Twins fans in desperate need for action.

The hawk did not disappoint, and from innings 7 through 9, edges of seats were warm with anticipation. For every successful kill, raucous applause. For every missed attempt, a collective "awww." At one point, the hawk dropped a dead moth into young woman's lap. Any chick would normally be like "ew." But the woman stood up, triumphantly holding the moth in the air like a victory flag. Raucous applause, followed by a round of "Eat! The! Moth! Eat! The! Moth!"

As dumb as the entertainment value of a hawk trapping moths may be, these are the moments that remind us that no matter how rich or young or old or how cool we are, at the end of the day, we're all the same. We're just humans who can find joy in the simplest of things. And as dumb as being entertained by a hawk trapping moths may be, it was a moment we shared. In the rain. Under the lights. That could have never happened inside the Metrodome. This was my first introduction to outdoor baseball in Minnesota.

PS: Sorry, Michael Cuddyer. This is why the crowd was going wild during the TV time-out.