Yesterday was TwinsFest here in the Twin Cities. It’s an annual event hosted by my local nine, the Minnesota Twins, to help fans kick off the coming baseball season.

Though pitchers and catchers do not officially report for Spring Training until February 11th, Twins alumni, current players, and coaches are at Target Field this weekend for meet-and-greets, interviews, photo opportunities, and autograph sessions. It is one of my favorite events of the year.

A number of years ago, back when the Twins were still playing at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, my brother Jon and I volunteered at the event. I was assigned to the clubhouse tour; specifically, I followed at the end of the group to keep stragglers moving. The highlight of the day was bumping into Kirby Puckett. And I mean literally bumping into him—he came out of a door suddenly and ran into me. He apologized, asked my name, and thanked me for volunteering.

Another highlight was a couple of years ago when I went with my daughter, Dylan, and son-in-law, Matthew. We got ourpicture taken with Byron Buxton.

This year, between the sub-zero temperatures, the Trump-MAGA ICE Invasion, and still trying to recover from the flu, I decided not to go. It is difficult to fully articulate what it feels like to be a Minnesotan right now: proud, worried, anxious, shocked, bewildered, angry, at my wit’s end. How have we fallen so far and so fast as a nation?

Never have things like baseball, books, and music seemed so irrelevant, yet mattered so much.