We know it's big. We know it's expensive. We know it's fancy.
It likely will take months, maybe even years, for the impact of the hulking new U.S. Bank Stadium on the east edge of downtown Minneapolis to fully crystallize as Minnesotans and the building get acquainted.
To be certain, the sleek, angular stadium has dramatically altered the skyline of Minnesota's largest city and played a key role in the evolution of a burgeoning neighborhood. It has caused divisions between dueling interests and ruffled its share of political feathers for the 15 years it has taken to move from concept to reality.
But it also has brought renewed national attention to the state and has already attracted two of the world's biggest sporting events — the 2018 Super Bowl and 2019 Final Four — that will amplify Minnesota's visibility and increase local pride.
At more than $1.1 billion, the stadium, built as the new home of the Vikings, is the largest public-private investment in state history. The state paid $348 million and Minneapolis paid $150 million in public funds toward its construction. In return, the Vikings organization, which initially paid $477 million — with more than $100 million in additional costs later — promised to use the 64,500-seat stadium for the next 30 years.
And while the 1.75-million-square-foot structure is unquestionably striking, it's part of a larger renaissance story — one the Metrodome, which used to occupy the site, could never spur.
"It is clearly a different time and place than when the Metrodome got built. The stadium is a very significant component of what is occurring in the neighborhood," said George Sherman of Sherman Associates, a prolific developer in the area.
Since the Metrodome opened in 1982, there's been a significant shift in the Twin Cities real estate landscape and the city's governing philosophy. At that time, Minneapolis was focused on strengthening its central urban core, only a few blocks wide and several blocks long and centering on Nicollet Mall, at the expense of the surrounding areas. All of the windswept surface parking lots were banished to the east end of town, near the stadium.
This barren environment made the Dome an island that no one, including restaurants, shops and residents, wanted to be on apart from event days.