The middle of nowhere is the center of my universe

By Troy Foster

We arrived here around 7:30.

I’d been sleeping for close to an hour, Daren was tired of driving and we decided it was time to make a call to the bullpen.

We were on some interstate in Iowa or Minnesota, probably an hour and a half removed from the Field of Dreams, where we’d shagged balls and played catch like movie stars.

Daren took the next exit, we wandered into a town with the scars of flood damage still evident, found the first hotel, paid $42 and unpacked our gear.

The bottom floor of this hotel is in shambles. They’ve torn the carpets out, beds line the hallways and a large trash bin stuffed with ruined furniture sits just outside. The guy at the front desk told me the flood waters receded just a week ago. 

We’re up here on the second floor, but this room seems just as dilapidated. Daren found cigarette butts behind his bed, the AC is keeping this room a cool 82 degrees and there’s no Bible in the drawer.

I felt claustrophobic the second I entered room 262, so I told Daren I was going for a walk to explore the town.

“I’m staying right here,” he said.

I began walking in the direction of nowhere in particular and realized this was one of the first times I’d been by myself on the entire trip. My wandering took me to a mall just a few blocks away. It was a tiny mall that said open until 9 p.m., but more than half the stores were closed.

My thoughts returned to baseball just once on this jaunt, as I walked into a store called Trader Jack’s and talked to Mark, the owner, and another young man about the water-logged baseball cards they were peeling out of a box. The floods showed no mercy.

My wandering took me to the opposite end of the mall, and when I walked out I was suddenly in what appeared to be downtown.

I certainly thought it was a strange place to put a mall. Then I began to imagine town improvement committees, failed urban renewal efforts and poorly attended parades. I didn’t know anything about this place, but I couldn’t help wonder if this was the type of town the brightest sons left as soon as they could. Time to get the hell out of Dodge, right?

Dodge?

It also occurred to me that I didn’t even know the name of this town.

As I looked around I couldn’t see another human soul, either. This place felt strange. This place felt like a ghost town. The dilapidated nature of our hotel extended out into every corridor of this weird city. And where had all the people gone?

It wasn’t until I came to the town square that I saw another man sitting on a bench. Here is where I also discovered the name of this place carved into a veterans memorial.

Traveling is my favorite pastime, even more than baseball. It’s pretty simple: I like the idea of being in places I’ve never been before.

Wandering. 

It occurred to me on this walk that I was in the middle of nowhere. It’s the first time I’ve been here, and it will also be the last.

So right now, this is the coolest place in the world.

(You can read more about this and our other adventures at BaseCrawl.com.)