The Twins had lost eight straight games. Hours of study on why would yield nothing more significant than most of the players stunk. Searching deeper one might find an underpaid and understaffed scouting department, inadequate second-rate coaches plucked from the bush leagues, and an owner too cheap to pay any good players their worth. Mr. Lyman's penny-pinching ways turned away free agents and caused the occasional quality Twins player to run from the organization as if death followed him. Not surprisingly the Twins had the worst attendance rate in Major League Baseball, averaging a shade under 5,000 fans per game.

Among those who exercised their right to not watch a crappy team play crappy baseball, Steve Percy nervously tapped his right heel while he waited to hear if his loan had been approved. He was lost in worry staring at a fake houseplant in the corner of the sterile lobby of the bank. The tapping of his right heel was something he always did when he was nervous or unsure of a situation, like when he had asked Irene to marry him 4 years ago. The loan was for a new home they were hoping to purchase. A baby was in their future; living in a one-bedroom flat was not. He neglected to tell Irene that the amount of the loan money they were applying for was 10,000 more than she thought.

Some of the former Twins fans stuck in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area gave up entirely on the sport, forcing themselves to follow the Timberwolves or pursue fishing and hunting with renewed vigor. Those who could not leave baseball behind found solace in the local minor league teams. The closest team to the state capital was the New Prague Ponies. On average the Ponies drew an incredible 7,000 people, with 246 season ticket holders. Steve Percy sat two rows up from first base and three seats in, season ticket holder number 203.

The time was getting on to early evening and Steve wondered if he would make it to the game on time. How ironic, he thought. I'm trying to get jumpstarted on a dream and it might cost me my first missed game in years. Getting denied for the loan isn't what worried him, getting approved for it did. He shifted in his seat, alternating the placement of his hands between the arms of his chair and folding them in front of himself. He could go home to his wife that night and complain that he had missed the game just to be insulted and embarrassed by a bunch of suit-wearing idiots. Irene would understand that. He thought of a hundred ways of telling her he had added 10,000 dollars to the loan papers but they all seemed to play out with her telling him he was chasing a fool's dream and to think of the baby.

He was thinking of the baby, in a way.