Became both a baseball and a Twins fan in 1967, being caught up in the great pennant race. As my moniker suggests, it was always a long distance love, growing up in the New Jersey suburbs. But the teams I followed most closely were indeed those of the early/mid 1970s. It was free agency that killed my passion; not only seeing every (no exaggeration) player of quality leave, but having to endure their war of words with Calvin (I mean Calvin could even insult an all-around good guy like Larry Hisle). Then I lived for a time in the Rocky Mountain West before they had major league baseball and returned to New York just in time for the strike-divided season of 1981. What brought back my passion? One night late in 1981, I didn’t bother going to Yankee Stadium when the Twins were in town. And in the middle of the 11th inning, I congratulated myself for being a working grown-up and turning off the TV. The next morning I heard all about a rookie from Bloomington, Minnesota—of all places—hitting a home run in his first game to win it for us. I was so thrilled by the story that I couldn’t even be mad at myself for not staying up to see it. Yes, Herbie’s home run made all the difference; I had my first love back, just in time to see the Class of ’82 fail and eventually blossom into the 1987 champs (and, as one might imagine, having Blyleven and Smalley back for that ride was a special and delightful irony for me).