I grew up across the freeway from what was to become Met Stadium. The freeway separated Richfield (where I was born) and Bloomington. Behind our house were open fields all the way to what was the parking lots. On a summer evening you could see the glow of lights from the stadium. On a still night, you could hear some of the PA announcements. To me it was like a magical kingdom, just yards away. As I got older, my brother and various cousins would go a ballgame. sometimes we paid, sometimes we snuck in behind the left field bleachers. One time my cousin and I were locked in, on the upper deck. They had locked the gate and put barrels to block the entrance. I remember thinking it was the last game of a homestand, and we'd be stuck up there til the Twins came home. Kids can think up the craziest things. Once we started throwing trash onto the deck below,, security came up and let us out.
Baseball was the sport of choice in my family. So the love affair was there from the start. Anyone who has gone to a game, can recollect the sights, sounds and smells, that are unique.