If the Vikings wanted to honor the best of the Metrodome, they would invite Dan Gladden to throw out the last first pitch, and Kent Hrbek to throw out the last belch.
The Vikings will play host in the last game ever played in the Humptydome on Sunday. A visit by the Lions will end the useful portion of the Dome's existence, and the kindest sentiments bestowed upon our state's sports Tupperware suggest that it has been an eminently useful place.
For the price of three years of Joe Mauer's contract, the Metrodome was built to contain Twins, Vikings, Wolves and Gophers seasons, to keep joggers and rollerbladers warm, to attract Final Fours and regionals and even a Super Bowl, and if you had a few bucks and wanted to play youth football or adult softball on the same turf trod by Kirby Puckett, you were in.
The Metrodome was a lot like the car you drove in college — not much to look at, not intended to last all that long, and filled with even more memories than beer cans.
Hosting the final game falls to the Vikings because every other team fled — the Wolves to Target Center, the Twins to Target Field, the Gophers football team to TCF Bank Stadium — but the Metrodome isn't filled with many grand football memories.
The Gophers football program would rather forget most of what happened to it in the Metrodome. In 31 years, the Vikings won six playoff games in the Dome, none in a conference championship game. Crowd noise caroming off the Teflon roof gave the local football squads an advantage that mattered little when it mattered the most.
In the game that will forever define the Vikings' tenancy at the Dome, the Atlanta Falcons did not commit a false-start penalty or call a timeout because of crowd noise during their upset victory in the 1998 NFC Championship Game.
By design, the Metrodome should have been a football stadium that tolerated baseball. It is a rectangle with excellent football sight lines that required a baggie and vampire seats to pull off an amateurish impersonation of a ballpark.