Michael Cuddyer
You know how some players leave a stat line, and others leave a legacy? Cuddyer did both—but what gets me isn’t the Silver Slugger or the .331 batting title. It’s the guy who asked for the lineup card just because he had a feeling. It’s the dude who homered in Ken Griffey Jr.’s last game and then saved the card and got it signed. The guy who saw the sacred in the sun finally shining on Minnesota baseball. That’s what this conversation is about—moments, memories, and why some ballparks feel like hallowed ground.
You played in both the Metrodome and then Target Field. What do you remember from that first day at Target Field?
I remember the fear—because April in Minnesota is unpredictable. We'd just come from sunny Florida and were expecting cold, but that first day? Sixty-five degrees and sunny. The fans were incredible—40,000 every night that whole season. I got the first RBI at Target Field. And I had the last hit at the Metrodome. That’s special—those are career milestones you can’t plan.
How did you adjust your approach from the Metrodome to Target Field?
At the Metrodome, I lived in center field, hitting balls off the baggie. At Target Field, those same hits were outs. I had to shift my entire approach and start pulling the ball more. Not an easy thing to do mid-career—but necessary.
Playing defense in right field at Target Field was also a challenge. Can you talk about that?
It was tough. The wall had three different materials—padding, wood, limestone—and the way balls bounced was unpredictable. Add in the sun reflection from downtown buildings? For three innings, I could barely see the ball. I’d have to shield my eyes just to track a line drive.
What did Target Field mean to the city?
It was literally and figuratively a breath of fresh air. Many fans had never seen outdoor Major League Baseball. Watching the Twins in the sunshine, on grass, in pinstripes—it changed the whole energy. We felt that as players. People showed up no matter the weather. That kind of buzz was special.
You’ve got some incredible memorabilia—lineup cards, autographs. Tell us about some of those moments you’ve collected.
I’ve got the lineup card from Griffey Jr.’s final game, signed by Griffey and Tony Gwynn. That wasn’t even the plan—I just had a hunch and asked for the card the next morning. I also have the lineup card from the game Mariano Rivera broke the saves record. Girardi signed it. I hit a homer that game. These are moments—moments I’ll never forget. More than stats or awards.
You always showed up to talk to the media, win or lose. Why?
I understood every cog in the machine. The beat writers had a job, and if I didn’t give them a quote, they’d have to guess. I wanted to tell the story myself. I also didn’t want to put that pressure on guys like Joe Mauer or Justin Morneau. I could handle the tough questions, so I did.
How does it feel now, watching your son play? Is it more nerve-wracking?
Way more. I could handle my own failures—I knew I could face the media. But watching your kid? You just want to protect them. You worry about how they’ll handle the tough moments, the criticism. You want to shield them from that.
How do you explain that players are fans too?
It’s about appreciation. I saw Griffey and Rivera’s greatness—and I knew what it took to sustain that. That’s why I started collecting lineup cards and bats. I’ve got bats from Jeter, Ichiro. I didn’t collect to show off—I collected to remember. The older I got, the more I wanted to preserve those moments.
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More from Michael Cuddyer
NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.