Joe Lonke was sayÂing goodÂbye to the HuÂbert H. Humphrey MetÂroÂdome on SunÂday afÂterÂnoon long beÂfore he acÂtuÂalÂly left it.
Ever since his mothÂer drove him downÂtown to see his first big-league baseÂball game, the 39-year-old sports buff from MaÂple Grove has been hooked on the sights and sounds of a place where homeÂtown heroes won over hearts and deÂlivÂered dozÂens of thrills over three memÂoÂraÂble deÂcades.
So SunÂday afÂterÂnoon, as the ViÂkings played their fiÂnal game in the soon-to-be-razed 31-year-old venÂue, Lonke couldn't help but think about his late mothÂer and the memÂories they shared.
KirÂby PuckÂett's 11th-inÂning, walk-off home run in Game 6 of the 1991 World Series. Brett FavÂre's magiÂcal auÂtumn of 2009. The Twins World Series tiÂtles in '87 and '91. The ViÂkings' heartÂbreakÂing NFC title game loss to AtÂlanÂta in 1999. Game 163 against DeÂtroit.
"I'm not even watchÂing the game at all," Lonke said as he walked the conÂcourse minÂutes beÂfore the fiÂnal gun soundÂed in a 14-13 ViÂkings vicÂtoÂry that closed out the MetÂroÂdome era. "I'm just wanÂderÂing around lookÂing at evÂerÂyÂthing and thinkÂing about the hisÂtoÂry. It's as much about me sayÂing goodÂbye to this place for her as it is for me."
Lonke was one of 64,000 fans who braved a bitÂter DeÂcemÂber chill to bid fareÂwell to the much-maÂligned TefÂlon-coÂvered staÂdiÂum that was ofÂten the butt of jokes but served its local teams so very well.
They came from IÂoÂwa and North Dakota and as far away as London to catch a piece of hisÂtoÂry and mayÂbe, in a seaÂson of too many "L's" and too much disÂapÂpointÂment, to see a vicÂtoÂry.
In coming weeks, the Dome, named for one of the state's most promiÂnent politicians and home for deÂcades to the Twins, ViÂkings and University of Minnesota footÂball team, will be razed to make way for a $1 bilÂlion, state-of-the-art upÂgrade.
"PeoÂple called it a dump," Lonke said as he looked around the staÂdiÂum. "But it was our dump. And we loved it."
Quiet endÂing
UnÂlike the Metropolitan Stadium fiÂnaÂle 30 years earliÂer, when fans stormed the field, tore down goalposts and scamÂpered up the scoreÂboard, the Dome went out SunÂday with a bit of a whimÂper.
With exÂtra seÂcuriÂty ofÂficÂers linÂing the field at game's end and an adÂdiÂtionÂal 50 off-duty Minneapolis poÂlice ofÂficÂers workÂing the conÂcourse and the crowd, damÂage was slight — foldÂing chairs, cup holdÂers and signs were reÂportÂedÂly the bigÂgest lossÂes.
"No one was inÂjured. EveryÂÂthing was reÂspectÂful," said Michele Kelm-Helgen, chairÂwoman of the Minnesota Sports FaÂciliÂties Authority, which runs the Dome and is overÂseeÂing conÂstrucÂtion of the new staÂdiÂum. "It was a great day."
Hours beÂfore the Dome's reÂvolvÂing doors stopped turnÂing for good, fans gathÂered in nearÂby parkÂing lots for a fiÂnal tailÂgatÂing bash.
Decked out in purÂple and gold jerÂseys and stockÂing caps and beads and face paint, they grillÂed burÂgers and brats, guzÂzled cold beer and sipped strongÂer spirÂits in a subzero DeÂcemÂber chill that made the toastÂy conÂfines of the Dome, even at its adÂvanced age, seem all the more apÂpealÂing.
While the staÂdiÂum goes down and the new one goes up, the ViÂkings will play the next two seasÂons outÂdoors at TCF Bank Stadium on the University of Minnesota camÂpus. The new staÂdiÂum is schedÂuled to open in time for the 2016 NFL seaÂson.
"It's a big day," said Al Moore, a seaÂson tickÂet-holdÂer from Plymouth. "And I'm takÂing it all in. I just want to say I was here."
Moore, his wife, JenÂni, and their parÂty of eight pulled into a parkÂing lot a few blocks from the staÂdiÂum well beÂfore sunÂrise afÂter dropÂping off their kids at grandÂma's house in St. Louis Park.
"We were the first ones in the lot," JenÂni Moore said. "We wantÂed to make sure we got a spot."
DeÂspite the cold and a stingÂing wind, the Moores and friends stayed comÂfy with hot chilÂi and chickÂen wings.
"It's the end of an era, but it's been a lot of fun," said Sara Peulen, a fan from Chisago City, as she tossed pepÂpers and poÂtaÂto skins on a nearÂby grill.
By 10 a.m., the sweet scent of both waftÂed across the parkÂing lot. By 11 a.m., a steady stream of fans husÂtled up the street and through the staÂdiÂum gates, where ticket holders reÂceived comÂmemoÂraÂtive purÂple penÂnants.
By the time the Lions kicked off at noon, the crowd was in a tizÂzy. For the next three hours fans cheered and groaned and cussÂed and pumped fists in a game that was more rouÂtine than reÂmarkÂable.
But to most watchÂing, the deÂtails didn't seem to matÂter.
"This is hisÂtoÂry going down," said PatÂti Lang, 35, who grew up in Bloomington but now lives in OrÂeÂgon. "It's a big deal."
"This is our childÂhood," said her friend, Alissa Thorsland, of Hopkins. "We grew up here."
Three hours later, the ViÂkings trotÂted off the arÂtiÂfiÂcial turf for a fiÂnal time with a one-point vicÂtoÂry, thanks largeÂly to rookÂie Cordarrelle Patterson, who ran 50 yards for one touchÂdown and caught a short pass for anÂothÂer score late in the game to deÂlivÂer the win.
As the fiÂnal gun soundÂed, fans rose to cheer and saÂlute. Cellphone camÂeras flashed. Some fans blew kissÂes. OthÂers sang "Skol ViÂkings" and raced out the reÂvolvÂing doors, slapÂping their palms against the exit sign to KirÂby PuckÂett Place.
"This staÂdiÂum, even Âthough it might not have been perÂfect, it was us," formÂer ViÂkings cenÂter Matt Birk said in a brief, postgame cerÂeÂmoÂny at midÂfield.
A personal souvenir
High in the seÂcond deck, sisÂters Shawn Schmitz, 43, of St. Louis Park and NatÂaÂlie CrawÂford, 40, of BilÂlings, Mont., pulled out a purÂple and gold boa and beÂgan pluckÂing feathÂers. Their mothÂer had made the boa for CrawÂford, a self-deÂscribed "seÂriÂous ViÂkings fan," more than 20 years ago.
But now, the sisÂters thought it only fitÂting to leave it behind.
As a fiÂnal round of fireÂworks soundÂed and fans headÂed to the exÂits, the sisÂters picked the boa clean, tossÂing each feathÂer over the side of the seÂcond deck railÂing, flutÂtering to the seats beÂlow.
"Yeah," CrawÂford said as she teared up, "it's kind of sad."
"It's very sad," Schmitz said as she hugged her sisÂter. "But we thought we'd leave the feathÂers. It seems only fitÂting that they stay here and go down with the Dome."
RichÂard Meryhew • 612-673-4425