For awhile, it seemed like we were simply missing the town. On Saturday night, we tried the Blue Loon (empty 80‘s party) and Lavelle’s (grumpy bartender and very small crowd.) What we missed was that the entire town was running in the Midnight Sun Run and was finishing up at a dive bar on the river called The Boatel. On Sunday, we went into town for the festival and had a very good but not hugely populated time scarfing pulled pork sandwiches, listening to music, watching some miraculous beanbag toss (one young lass made 6 of 8 on average, from over 40 feet, across multiple games.) Many competitors came and went, shaking their heads in awe. It seemed like she might have sold her soul for cornhole greatness as we sat there drinking beer at the Big I.

But then, THEN. We got into a cab and went to the ballpark 90 minutes before game time. A little ramshackle, perhaps, but absolutely packed, and we saw people we had seen around town.

The BEST part, though, was fueled by meeting Sam Morton the day before. Sam, his wife Kathryn and grandson Xavier joined us at the game. We had met Sam at a gas station on our last Saturday – we on our way to Denali, he to a doubleheader that he was helping coach for his grandson’s team. Turns out Sam is a baseball guy, a high school baseball coach and interested in motorcycles. Doug realized we had three extra tickets to the game after Sam said he always goes, so we offered them to Sam. He was going, but our tickets had him bringing his wife and grandson. It was guh-RATE! All game long, we spoke the language of baseball, told stories, laughed with Kathryn over the antics of the talented and really fun PA guy, and challenged (and tipped) Xavier to help us get the stuff we dropped through the bleachers.

We met some of Sam’s ballplayers, fans and extended baseball family from all over the ballpark – they would all stop to say “hello” to our new friend. The game was great, the experience transcendent, but the ability to share it with Sam, Kathryn, Xavier and their ballpark full of friends confirmed the Midnight Sun Game as the spiritual experience I always thought it would be.

It is rare that a dream event surpasses expectations. It felt a little like W.P. Kinsella’s Shoeless Joe, the model for Field of Dreams. Growden Park / Goldpanners Field may not have been magical cornfields, but what started as an old, neighborly ballpark with limited comforts, on this night became the center of baseball — a jewel with an otherworldly glow. Physics were suspended. Light stayed through 130am, even though the sun was trapped behind a dark storm cloud on the horizon and filtered through smoke from over 350 fires across the state. The winning runs were scored when Seattle outfielders could not see or quite corral a long fly ball up the gap or a ducksnort down the right field line. Long outfield runs netted only glancing blows off of extended gloves in the gloaming. The 7th run in a 7-4 victory was plated when Scooter Bynum impossibly scored from first base on a hit down the left field line, blazing around the bases and through the late evening haze like he was on his own motorcycle – the most exciting play of the evening. Or morning.

With Sinatra in the background and standing near the gates at 1-something AM after a 7-4 Goldpanners win, we chatted with our new friends (see the video for Sam and Kathy at the end.) Soon, we finally met up with Todd Dennis, our host as the GM of the Goldpanners and the architect of a great game experience. He saw us talking to Sam and said, “Hey, it’s Mr. Fairbanks Baseball!” Which I would have thought might have been Todd as the GM of the local ballclub. But everyone in the ballpark knew — including Todd. As we strolled the dirt of the parking lot, it felt more like the magic of that Iowa cornfield. Long ago, Growden Park was no more than an idea. Just like my longstanding idea of motorcycling to the Midnight Sun Game. They built it, and I knew we would come. We finally did. It was indeed a “best day.” I will remember the game, the people and the place for all they were as long as there are memories.