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I was 13 in October 1987 when Minnesota Twins veteran Dan Gladden and I shared a moment that would go down in history.

To be fair, the moment was mostly Gladden’s, while I mainly made a mockery of my dad’s bank account through brats, pop and souvenirs at my very first World Series game. That might have bled over into grandpa’s bank account too, though I’m not sure I remember that for sure.

It was game one of the 1987 World Series and the Twins were hosting the St. Louis Cardinals on the way to the team’s first ever championship. This series, like the memorable 1991 series, was played in historic — if not dubious — confines of the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome.

I say “historic” because the crowds at the Metrodome would often set decibel levels beneath its domed artifice. I say “dubious” because it was alleged that the air circulation of the dome would be adjusted at suspicious times in order to affect the opponent’s game.

I say “allegedly” because, well, I’m a Minnesota fan. You understand my position of course.

My early teen mind had no cause to believe I would be attending a World Series game that year and I probably had cause to believe that the Twins wouldn’t even make it that far, much like I did early in the season this year.

Few probably believed it, in point of fact. Like with 91’s title, the year previous, in 1986, gave Twins fans little optimism that just one year later Minnesota would be world champs for the first time since the Senators came to the Twin Cities.

In 1986, the Twins were well under .500 at 71-91 and filled with players that at the time were not Hall of Famers or pillars in the Twins organizations. Not like they would be anyway. There were signs I supposed, but Minnesota fans learn early on to be suspicious of our teams.

I blame the Vikings for running 0-4 in the Super Bowl.

But there was more to 1987 that would have led to doubt. For starters, it was Tom Kelly’s first full year as manager. In Major League history, only five managers have won a World Series in their rookie campaigns with Alex Cora being the last in 2018 with the Boston Red Sox.

Kelly was not a rookie as took over the Twins midway through the Twins’ ‘86 season. Still, not a lot to get fired up for.

In true Minnesota fashion, we had to win the title in eye-rolling fashion. In 1987, the Twins were outscored by opponents during the regular season and while they still had a winning record of 85-77, it was the worst winning record at the time of any team to win the World Series.

It would be just under 20 years before, ironically enough, the St. Louis Cardinals would break that in 2006, when they went 83-78 and won the title.

Meanwhile, the Cardinals in 1987 were 95-67.

Of course, all of that disappeared when I found out that my grandpa had gotten his hands on three tickets, perched in a pretty good area: left field, lower deck and man it was loud.

For those who are not of an age, US Bank Stadium and Target Field can get loud, but nothing like the Metrodome. I’m no scientist, but the dome seemed to focus the sound of thousands of people downward, settling on the field in something like a targeted cacophony that years later would let me use the word “cacophony” in a column.

It was semi-uncomfortable when the sound was paired with the thousands of twirling Homer Hankies. It was hard for a 13-year-old to concentrate. I can only imagine how difficult it was for opposing pitchers and batters.

I honestly don’t remember a majority of the game. The environment captured the emotions of fans and whipped us up to a point where you could almost feel the unimaginable coming to pass. You could feel the title was more than possible and it was almost a surreal feeling that made it probable.

I remember that St. Louis led 1-0 after one inning and that Frank Viola (voted second best mustache by the current ADH editor behind Tom Selleck) was on the mound.

Tension was immediately ratcheted up, and you felt that tension squeezed tighter after each inning, until the fourth inning.

It was here that my memory snaps vividly into place. The bases were loaded and Gladden, spending his first year with the Twins since being traded from Detroit, was at the plate.

For the Metrodome, the place was fairly quiet. Nobody wanted to get in Gladden’s head. Not with the bases loaded. Gladden and thousands of hanky-twirling fanatics were concentrating on relief pitcher Bob Forsch.

Forsch delivered and I was deaf. The crowd’s decibel levels jumped as the ball climbed and climbed, angling on a trajectory toward a 13-year-old from Lake Wilson, Minnesota. The ball landed a few rows in front of us and I had no chance of being the one who claimed the sphere of history.

But that was okay. As Gladden rounded the bases in what would turn out to be a seven-run fourth leading into a 10-1 win, I raised my voice and added it to the choir of diamond dreamers who all hoped we were seeing the first hints of a Twins championship.

Years later, I would get the chance to meet Gladden while working in Huron, South Dakota and like every dutiful Twins fan, I happened to mention I was there when he hit his granny. He smiled the polite smile of a man that’s heard that far too often, but I didn’t mind.

I don’t think anybody grows tired of hearing that you contributed to a fan’s memory.

It’s part of the magic of baseball and in case you need a little bit more reason to dare to dream: Twins were 78-84 last year in the regular season. They were 87-75 this year.

More reason to hope?