My new house is finally looking like a home.
Actually, I’m not so sure about the living room, kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms and all the areas in between, but my finished basement, known as the Matt Kave or the clubhouse, is starting to look more like a museum in Cooperstown than a room in Franklin Township.
Three coats of Penn State-blue paint, hundreds of nails, and, of course, the ridiculous amount of baseball memorabilia I’ve collected over the years are now on the walls, and have transformed the large room from a cheerful, yellow retreat to a testosterone-filled blue haven.
There are still a lot of holes to fill. I have more posters and photos spread throughout central Minnesota that I still need to find wall space for, and, in the more literal sense, I will one day have to fill the holes formed by nails that were driven before a proper measurement was taken or a level was used. I can forget about those nail holes for now, I guess. Most of them are covered with something, which means I won’t see them for at least 30 years, when my mortgage is paid off.
The Matt Kave is still under construction, but, like strips of Highway 12, it is accessible to business traffic.
I had never been so comfortable watching the Major League Baseball playoffs as I’ve been over the past two weeks. Get home from a high school volleyball game around 8:30 p.m.; grab a bag of chips and some nacho cheese, and, of course a favorite amber beverage; and find that glutally-formed divot in the couch to take a load off. Now, that, I’ve found out, is the life.
Seating is limited right now (to that one couch), but eventually, the Kave will feature club seating for at least three other fans, and a general admission section in the back, near the bathroom.
Like I said earlier, construction and the decorating of the Matt Kave have not been completed. I’ve yet to find a spot for my fanatical props like the “Quiet Please” sign I got from the Funai Classic golf tournament, or the plastic, yellow horn that makes one feel he’s at a the Metrodome after every Vikings’ first down (that explains the dust). I haven’t hired any concessionaires to vend relief refreshments when the starter cans and bottles run out of gas. I might have to rig something in the laundry chute that’s, ironically, about the width of a six- pack.
I guess Rome wasn’t built in a day, so I can’t expect the Matt Kave to be a The Colosseum, is just a matter of weeks.
I’m guessing the Romans had a bigger budget to work with than the Kanes. And more laborers.
I’m anxious to pound the final nail and hang the final signed 8x10 photo of Ron Coomer on the wall. When that day comes, the Matt Kave will be complete, with only a few unscheduled renovations in its future.
For now, though, the Matt Kave is serving the purpose I always dreamed it would.
Like Wrigley Field and Fenway Park, the Matt Kave is providing a one-of-a-kind experience for watching Major League Baseball, and, in its history, other sports as well.
So, as I’ve done over the past few weeks, I will ignore any Matt signals, and retreat to the Matt Kave for the rest of the baseball playoffs, with a lot of college and NFL football games thrown in there, as well. I will enjoy every minute of it.
Getting back to those future renovations, there is just one more thing I would like to have in the Matt Kave. My own, personal urinal. What could be better in a man’s room than something made and used exclusively for and by sports-loving men? And urinals use little water so they are good for the environment.
Wait a minute, Gopher football is moving to a new stadium next fall, the Twins are moving in 2010, and the Vikings want to move. That means the Metrodome might have a 50-foot stainless steel trough or two they want to unload.
I’m gunna need a bigger bathroom.