Go Crazy folks...or preferably, don't.

Okay, this is the craziest half inning of baseball I've ever seen.

In case you cannot watch this game, but do have the internet allow me to explain.

Span was hit by a pitch.

An umpire was bit by an imp.

This umpire decided that since Span looked like he was going to bunt, and bunting is evil, and Span has a Lincoln-esque beard, that Span, unlike every other baseball player should not go to first base.

Therefore Ron Gardenhire came out to tell the umpire a lovely bunt cake recipe.

The umpire also hates bunt cake, because once Abraham Lincoln bunted a bunt cake at him. So he kicked out Gardy.

Furious, Gardy's rosy cheeks turned even rosier. He announced:
 "adfjrygpoqw09784lkjgh!!" and his happy pointy hat happened to fall off his head so he tried to kick it back on top of his head, but only Chelsea Midfielder Michael Essien can do that.

So, Twins fans, emulating the ever popular Garden Gnome also attempted to kick it back on top of their heads...but again, only Ghanian soccer superstar Michael Essien can do that.

When umpires told Twins fans to stop trying to be like Michael "The Bison" Essien, because it, "is like, so lame to like soccer" Twins fans decided they would behave like Soccer hooligans instead.

Ozzie Guillen, knowing how crazy soccer matches get, (especially when it involves crazy gorilla dictator Hugo Chavez) pulled his players from the field and then nearly headbutted a butthead of a bald guy who seemed to take issue with Ozzie breathing air.

Finally, everyone took a deep breath, tried a sun salutation move, counted to five and decided to play ball again.

Joe hit a ball of Cabrera's glove and we tied it.

Morneau hit a fielder's choice...just because too many home runs make him seem like a White Sock

Delmon was hit by a pitch.

Twins GM Bill Smith traded a decent dentist to England for Ghanian soccer superstar and Chelsea Midfielder Michael "The Bison" Essien, presumably only because he is so freaking cool. (I mean look at that Getty Pictures Image up there...can you do that Jermaine Dye? Jim Thome? of course not, you are fat lazy asses who do not run, you only trot.)

The Subway "Hit it Here" sign was hit by a pitch Jason Kubel crushed to give us the lead.

Brendan Harris and the umpire were hit by THE SAME PITCH.

And finally, Adam Everett did what he did best, pop out. 

All in all an eventful inning. Kristina gets her wish and Gardy screamed. My mom gets her wish and the Twins get the lead (gratefully by three runs given the two run shot Jermaine Dye just hit). I get my wish and we pull of a crazy trade for a great athlete...unfortunately he has never seen a baseball game...but I'm sure it will work out.

New Strategy

Okay, new strategy. I'm going to log in to blog about my disappointment at the Twins offense.

Every time I do this we start hitting...like Morneau's 3 run Home Run and Delmon's Supractionized double (He just yelled "KAZAAM!" at Josh Fields...and my mother thinks that Carlos Gomez's screaming roughly translates as F*ing A!)

We'll see how my sporadic use of the internet influences 9 men's hitting prowess...I'm sure it's critical.

Potentially Not Good.

Well now. This is interesting.


4 Trades we should make

As tonight's game has progressed, and things looked bleak (until a couple innings ago) I decided to think about other things...like how the Twins can make the team better with the Trade deadline less than 48 hours away. 

(Though before I do that: is it just me or does White Sox pitcher Clayton Richard looks like the guy in Middle School who loved to point out that hotdogs and oranges looked like genitalia?)

Here are some humble suggestions for Twins GM Bill Smith:
  1. Adam Everett (SS) for Latroy Hawkins (RP): Latroy's in New York, and not happy (raise your hand if you're surprised...didn't think so). The Yankees seem to be eternally in need of middle infielders and we don't need Adam Everett any more...deal done.
  2. Mike Lamb (3B) for Evan Longoria (3B): The Rays are in contention for the playoffs and could sorely use some veteran leadership, this Longoria kid can't be this awesome much longer...I'm guessing one maybe two days. Come on Tampa, we like Delmon and Brendan...give us this one too, we'll be your friends....see I'm already sweetening the deal.
  3. Boof Bonser (SP) for Johan Santana (SP): Johan's in New York and not terribly happy (though oodles of dollars make his suffering easier to bear). You've got to think that he'll be happier and pitch better in a place where everyone loves him, and Boof can be a starter again...AND...he doesn't pitch differently depending on whether or not he get's booed (just say they're saying: "BOOOOOOOOf")
  4. Magic Beans for Manny Ramirez (RF/DH): Okay, so we get Red Sox GM Theo Epstein really, really drunk. And we remind him how we raise great players whom we gladly trade to Boston--David Ortiz, Kevin Garnett, etc. Then, as Epstein is staggering around with a lampshade on his head talking about the gnomes nibbling at his toes, we "come to his rescue" and tell him about how well "Magic Beans" has been playing in the minors. "Magic Beans" is great, phenomenal, fantastic, and boy we sure shouldn't trade him. Then, as Epstein blearily blinks and offers us his first born child for "Magic Beans" tell him we'll settle for Ramirez. IT CAN'T FAIL!!
Mr. Smith, I await your decision

Know Thine Enemy #10: The Chicago White Sox

Apologies for the lateness of this entry, but I can make up for it:

Reasons to crush the White Sox like a beverage can against our forehead:
  1. Punks: It's hard to put a finger on precisely, but there's something immensely unlikable about the White Sox. Abundant derisive nicknames for them pepper fans vocabulary (B**ch-Sox, Stink-Sox, or, as Bob Ueker says: "The Pale Hosers from the Windy City".) They're always there, right ahead of or right behind us. Taunting, teasing, and just generally being wank-jobs. Justify the nicknames, whoop 'em. *25 Loathing Points*
  2. Lazy asses: The Twins play hard, grind it out, run around the bases put on special plays, use defense to pick their pitchers and no one from one through nine slacks off. The White Sox strategy seems to involve waiting around for Jermaine Dye, Jim Thome or Carlos Quentin to hit the ball a very long way. (They have hit 70 more home runs than the Twins, but scored only 3 more runs) Tough it out punks, try to run a little bit, it's good exercise for your fat-asses. *70 Loathing Points*
  3. The title: Over the last 7 years, the American League Central has been fun, intense competition between good teams with excellent players who work hard without the fame or fortune of other, less talented teams (I'm looking at you Dodgers). And for those 7 years the Twins have more wins and fewer losses than any other team. With 4 division titles...but the only team from the Central to win the World Series...the White Sox...bitter, yes...vindictive, you bet...valid reason for a beat down, absolutely. *30 Loathing Points*
  4. Violence: While we here at Peanuts From Heaven encourage smack downs on opposing team, we do not encourage, endorse or other wise engage in actual violent behavior (our careers as assassins rely on subtlety). This is not an opinion shared by ChiSox fans, who have at various times, attacked umpires and nearly destroyed their own home stadium. *66 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should use a basic can crushing implement to appropriately prepare the White Sox for disposal:
  1. I owe them: This is purely personal. The White Sox employed me for a summer. They kept baseball in my home town. I helped Major league White Sox Brian Anderson and Boone Logan during their first season as professionals (mostly to know where food was cheap in Montana). I met Kenny Williams (nice guy, good with kids). Hard to hate guys you know (so when they are all fired, traded or retired, I'll be more able to hate them). *-40 Loathing Points*
  2. Ozzie Guillen: While you can loathe the White Sox, and everything they stand for, it's hard not to like coach Ozzie Guillen. The guy gives the Twins credit, compliments Gardenhire and gives our players nicknames. Give the man a casserole dish and a Gomez t-shirt and he could be happy in the cheap seats. *-35 Loathing points*
  3. AJ Pierzinsky: Yes, he is a tool. A jerk and a punk. He is the embodiment of the White Sox...he is also the embodiment of the Twins so many of us came to love, scrappy, dedicated and undeniably talented. *-25 Loathing Points*
Final Loath-o-Meter Rating: 91 Loathing Points
Also Known As: the Media's obsession with Brett Favre.



I think this pic from MLB.com pretty much sums up my feelings about our upcoming series against the Bitch-Sox:

I think that if things don't go our way, we should yell a lot. And point a lot. Maybe if things do go our way, we should do it anyways just for the hell of it. If Delmon Young is the master of Supraction(TM) then Gardy is the master of its opposite: yelling. Supraction as all about subtlety and grace, and "Hey what the f*** just happened?!" Yelling is more about getting all up in a bitches face and making your opinion known. Which is what Gardy is s good at, and also what gets him ejected from a fair number of games.

If nothing else, I hope Gardy yells a lot in the next four days. And if we win and pass up the Bitch Sox, that would be cool too.


Piranhas V. 2.0

It was a sad day in Cleveland, sure the sun was shining, sure there was a lot more food available now that Livan Hernandez has gone kosher, but the Indians pitcher had contained Twins hitters and left the whole team moping in the dugout.

"This sucks!" said Brendan Harris
"This really sucks!" said Denard Span
"This sucks worse than Space Chimps!" said Alexi Casilla.
"You saw that?" asked Harris
"It's the only thing that Gogo and I could get into...everybody thinks we've got fake id's."
"We need a rally..." said 
"WE NEED PIRANHAS!" said Nick Punto
"But all the old Piranhas are gone," said Mike Redmond, "I mean, we're down from three Jason's to one!"
"But look around," said Nicky P. "Brendan could be a piranha, Denard could be a piranha, Alexi and Gogo practically personified Piranha-dom while I was on the DL. We just need something to get started."
"What if we were something more than Piranha's?" asked Craig Monroe, recently returned from another unexplained trip into the forest.
"Uh...Craig," said Nicky P.
"What if instead of being Piranhas we were Squirrels!"
"Why would we do that? Piranhas are fierce and Squirrels are just..."
"We'd be fast and nimble and we could eat all nuts we could get our hands on!!"
"Craig that sounds really--"
"Squirrels ATTACK!!!"

And so Craig Monroe ran to the batter's box, broke up the perfect game with a double, and scored on a series of softly hit ground balls. Sure it was Justin Morneau's double that won the game, sure Nick Blackburn worked his way out of innumerable jams. But Craig Monroe is so rarely seen and mocked...that this was a necessary post.


Another Letter from Livan Hernandez

I am so so so so so so sorry my cherie 'Sota,

So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry.

Sorrier dan de acting career of Dustin Diamond.

Sorrier dan de excuse of judicial prudence exemplified by de Roberts court.


I did not know dat my hands were still covered in the grease of de luau pig. She was so delicious, and after burying her under de Cleve-a-land field some months ago, she was ready for de eating. She was delicious, and I was so happy to be full on de sweet sweet piggy meat. I knew I would make you proud.

But de napkins...OH DE NAPKINS!! De Cleve-a-landers, dey don' have no napkins. De are banned in Cleve-a-land. So my hands, dey were slippery wit pig grease. So de ball, she slipped so fat on to the plate and de hitters, dey pulvederized it.

But you must have seen. after de grease left my hands, de ball...she did what I tell her to do. But still...is my fault. I am so sorry. I don't deserve your love cherie 'Sota. But to prove I still love you I will not eat de roasted luau piggy no more! Not even if Boofy glazes it wit de sweet pinapple holandaize. Not even if Gardy serves it to me in his little gnome hat (hee hee--it makes me laugh). 

BUT DIS IS NO FUNNY! I WILL NO MORE EAT DE PIG! Only de cow, de chicken, de horse, de frog, de snake, de dog, de octo-squid, de fishies, de narhwhal's, de chupacabre, DESE WILL I EAT, AND ONLY DESE!

I make dis sacrifice for you my 'Sota. As my penance for de mistakes.

Your so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry lover,


A conundrum

So it's a Friday night. The end of a long week. And the time has come to unwind, kick back and find a happy distraction.

The question is: where does one look?

To the baseball diamond or the cineplex?

To the team whose fortunes have a daily influence on my mood and view of the world, or, to a bunch of fictional characters who struggles will distract, amuse and possibly inspire?

To put it simply: should I watch baseball or Batman?

I love baseball. Like woah. Like I love Hong Kong Dim Sum, or Athenian Ouzo. And I love the Twins even more, I love Little Nicky Punto, and lethargic lothario Livan Hernandez, and Delmon "Supraction" Young, and "Save Big Money at:" Denard's!  Not to mention Messers Mauer and Morneau. So a roster of 25 guys who don't know me, but whom I care about immensely are far more interesting than any masterful performance or eyedropping special effect.

However, it seems like lately, when I watch a game we lose. And then my mood is sour, bitter, a rotted orange stinking up the vegetable crisper that is my life. And so...for the Good of the Twins, for all the guys I love, and for my own personal mood follow me: TO THE BATCAVE OLD CHUM!!


For Crying out Loud!

Was it my fault? Did I suggest that the Twins did not have to utterly destroy the Twins and they took this to mean that they could just not drive in any runs at all?

Did I infect Jason Kubel with a desire to hit double play balls? I know that sharing some of my scruffy facial hair with him could lead to side effects, I just didn't think my inability to hit would be one of them?

Did I accidently pick up Joe Mauer's contact lenses and he mine? Is my lazy ass left eye the reason that he has struck out more times in two games than I can remember ever seeing him strike out ever before?

Did I subtly suggest, through my noncoverage of the bullpen, that they could go ahead and not through the ball well so that we could cover them?

Did I go too easy on Alex Rodriguez when I saw him play in Toronto, suggesting that drunken Canucks go a little easier on a man going through a divorce? Does he now try doubly hard to justify my kindness to him? (Will he start sending me flowers, chocolates and perhaps teddy bears with sonnets shaved into their fur?)

Did I inspire the Yankees to post my enemies entry on their bulletin board as if to say: "See...someone thinks we're valuable human beings no matter whether we win or lose!"

No...no I did not...so Twins...ATTACK!!! Lay siege to Yankee Stadium tomorrow, and, as General Sherman did to Atlanta, leave it a smoldering ruin, a burning, worthless heap where only cockroaches and Ted Turner survive. Set it ablaze! No more Monument Park, no more "classic frieze", no more mustache on Giambi's lip--GET RID OF IT ALL!!

And when Derek Jeter stands in the burning red sunset, his chiffon dress torn and tears streaking his feminine face and screams: "As God as my witness, I'll never go hungry again...because I'm paid an absurd amount of money!!" We will all be there to rise up as one and say: "Frankly Jeter, WE DON'T GIVE A DAMN!"

Your love is like a roller-coaster baby

Does anyone find it more than a little ironic that mere days after we trounced Texas 12-4, we in turn were trounced 12-4? Is this perhaps bad karma for all the horrid things we here on Peanuts from Heaven have wished upon the New York Yankees? (I know Smelly here says he doesn't wish horrible slow death on them, but I do...and the baseball fates can read minds...).

I remember a night not too many years ago, I think it was the summer of 2004, when we were playing the Yankees and were down by something like 9 or 10 runs. I gave up all hope, left my spot on the couch and went to get ice cream in which to drown my sorrows. When I returned, the Twinkies had somehow rallied and were on top! I think that game ended up going into overtime and we ended up losing, but the lesson I learned was, never give up hope, even when everything is horrible and you want to eat ice cream until you die.

Last night wasn't quite so hope-inspiring...especially when we gave up what seemed like a pretty good shot at maybe...i don't know...scoring some runs?.... by leaving poor Brendan Harris and Denard Span stranded on base. Oh well, you win some you lose some. Every season has its ups and downs.

Needless to say my hatred of the New York Yankees has returned to Code Red. Plus 500 loathing points.


Know Thine Enemy #9: The New York Yankees

Reasons we should beat up the Yankees like the typhoon of fists and kicks that is Batman:
  1. The Steinbrenners: Cleveland shipping magnate George Steinbrenner bought the Yankees in the 1970s. This, after the Yankees had gone a whole decade without a championship, and become just another baseball team rather than an onerous superpower that insisted on worship from all corners of the world. Steinbrenner helped make free agency the beast that it has become today, paying top dollar for players like Catfish Hunter and Reggie Jackson. Though George's ill health has stopped him from being the jerkwad of old, his son Hank has more than ably provided an immeasurable degree of jackassitude. At various points Hank has criticized small market teams for "targeting the Yankees" (which is basically, trying to beat them) when they benefit from the Yankee's paying the luxury tax. He also blamed a "stupid rule from the 1800s" for having one of his pitchers get hurt while running...because if you're a professional athlete, you should never have to run.  *250 Loathing Points*
  2. Dave Winfield: Perhaps the nastiest part of the Steinbrenner jackassitude--so nasty I'm giving it it's own section--is that George decided at one point to hire a private investigator to discredit and embarrass Dave Winfield. St. Paul native Dave Winfield. University of Minnesota alum Dave Winfield. Class act Dave Winfield, whose dirty laundry seems to have included a past due library fine on "Man's Search for Meaning" and accidently taking one to many penny candies from a local drugstore. On behalf of local boy, Dave Winfield, it's on! *31 Loathing Points*
  3. The Payroll: The Yankees are currently paying their players 207, 108,489 dollars. That would be 4.75 times as much as the Twins. It's 70 Million more than any other team. It's literally enough to buy an island nation...not in the joking around "I wanna buy a private island somewhere" in the literal 207,000,000 dollars is 65,000,000 dollars more than the entire nation of Sao Taome and Principe makes in a year...that's right, Sao Taome AND Principe! *65 Loathing Points*
  4. Mystique: Yankees fans, players, announcers and unabashed sycophants talk about the Yankee's mystique, the coolness of the Yankees, the awesomeness of their stadium, their tradition and their history. They invoke the names of Ruth, Gherig, DiMaggio and Mantle as if to say: Mess with us, and you mess with the greatest players of all time. And while they are four great players, combined they hold a grand total of 2 all-time records (Both Ruth, Slugging percentage and On Base + Slugging Percentage)--Rickey Henderson holds the same number...and he's crazy! So don't invoke some mythical mystique of Yankee greatness unless you can really back it up...Hank Aaron...he can do it...Joe from Staten island with a loud boo...not so much. *128 Loathing Points*
  5. Last season in Yankee Stadium: They will be demolishing the old Yankee Stadium and putting up one that looks almost exactly like it right next door. Because if you're going to build something new it should be as much like the thing its replacing as possible. (Pause for all Minnesotans to consider astroturf outside...united shudder...moving on.) This will be the last chance to shove the smug smirks of Yankees fans down their throats on one piece of land, before having to do it on one approximately 200 yards away. *26 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should only hoakily beat up the Yankees with several "Kazow"s ""SplAAAAAAt"s and "Ooof"s like the old school Batman.
  1. Kindness: I'll be honest, I'm not the spewing from the mouth, vitriolic nitwit blogger who appears on ESPN. I don't think that everyone who wears pinstripes deserves to burn forever in the fiery pits of hell (Heck Bobby Abreu prayed for Nick Blackburn after driving a hit off his face, Mike Mussina does the crossword puzzle!). I don't huff and puff and go all red in the face for the sake of sounding like I know what I'm talking about. I'm the sappy nitwit blogger who thinks this whole thing is funny. I don't really loathe the Yankees, just what they represent. I loathe the idea that success can be determined by how much money you have and not how hard you work. I loathe the idea that you can be smug, obnoxious, rude, and mean spirited enough to try and publicly smear a man you disagree with, and still be considered a success. I don't really want the Yankees to die cozen to a thousand pieces. I just want them to lose. *-400 Loathing Points*
Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating=*100 Loathing Points* 
(See, even with kindness they still max out the Loathe-O-Meter)
This Point total is equivalent to: The New York Yankees--The most loatheable thing on the planet.


Blow outs...sweet, sweet blowouts.

When you score 14 runs...that's sweet

When you win by ten runs...that's sweeter than pecan pie.

When you hit four home runs in a single game...that's sweeter than high fructose corn syrup.

When you hit 7-for-14 with runners in scoring position...that's sweeter than high fructose corn syrup infused pecan pie slurpy.

Peanuts from Heaven Inc. spoke to the hot hitting (we can't believe we're writing that either) Delmon Young inside our own mind.

BM: Where's...where's Delmon? I thought we had a meeting set for after the game...where's...where [crack of thunder and puff of smoke]
BM: Yeah...I uh...I guess I have.
DY: Wanna see my latest card trick?
BM: Not real--
DY: BAM!! [throws cards in reporter's face]
BM: Great...so why have you suddenly started hitting so well?
DY: It all goes back to Supraction (TM). I was just an underperforming cog in an otherwise adequate offense and then...
BM: You combined two words into one?
DY: It was...magic
BM: Is that why you're dressed like Sigfried?
DY: Roy actually.
BM: Sorry.
DY: You better be--SUPRACTIA-ZAAM! [another burst of smoke and Young vanishes]

And so we thank Delmon Young for providing yet another evening of amusement


Know Thine Enemy #8: The Texas Rangers

Reasons we should smack the ever-lovin' bejeesus out of the Rangers:
  1. George H. W. Bush: Still President Bush led the Rangers syndicate of owners to bully the people of Arlington for a new stadium, boot Commissioner Fay Vincent from the job then campaign for the position himself and add to the 1994 labor stalemate.  Ineptitude, thy name is Bush. *43 Loathing Points*
  2. History?: What History? The Rangers have 1 Hall-of-Famer in their history (Nolan Ryan--who actually had better years in Houston, and Anaheim). The total number of playoff appearances can be counted on one hand, with room left over to hold a teacup. *10 Loathing Points*
  3. Steroid stir-house: According to that pillar of honesty, Jose Canseco, the Rangers juiced their way to those three playoff spots, with Jose tossing syringes to Juan Gonzalez, Ivan Rodriguez and Rafael Palmerio. So, that's a host of positive role models for the kids of Texas. *24 Loathing Points*
  4. Washington Escapees: The Rangers started in Washington DC as the replacement for the team that moved to Minnesota in 1960, where they promptly stunk. Like the Nationals we whupped up on last month, we must defend our status as the best team to get out of Washington. *13 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should smack the some-times-lovin' bejeesus out of the Rangers:
  1. Josh Hamilton: Forget the bitterness espoused by some *cou(Jim Souhan)gh!* about cheering on the prodigal son, forget the stupidity of Home Run Derby announcers who fawned over him while Justin won the contest. The truth is Hamilton's a good story, a great player and worthy of cheers from anyone around him *-32 Loathing Points*
  2. Cursed?: The Rangers are the oldest team to have never even appeared in a World Series. Only 4 teams in the majors hold that distinction, and the Rangers have a good 10 years on all of them. With no luck and no history, why add to the misery? *-14 Loathing Points*
  3. Bert Blyleven: He pitched for them, and he's the funniest fool of an announcer in America, so a little credit is due *-5 Loathing Points*
  4. Chuck Norris: The world's most famous Texas Ranger, Walker Texas Ranger, Chuck Norris chopped St. Minnepaul into Twin Cities. Unless we want to be come: Saint, Paul, Minne and Apolis we better be nice. *-17 Loathing Points*
Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 31 Loathing Points
(Also Known As: Having Fox News on, but not having a remote control)


Thank Merciful Heavens!

The Game is Over.

There wasn't a stupid tie.

Morneau's swing is not totally screwed up by the home run derby.

The game was not decided by a Red Sock or Yankee (A Ray won it, a Phillie lost it, and a Ranger drove in a Twin to win it).

I was honestly a little disappointed that the NL, who had played so well, who looked like a better team for much of the game, who were managed well by Clint Hurdle (who still had substitutes and relievers left in the 15th, while the AL's Terry Francona was using a pitcher he wasn't supposed to in the 14th and didn't make an offensive change after the 8th). And quite disappointed that after 5 hours, people stuck around to boo another player because the words "Red Sox" were on his shirt.

But fortunately, we do not have to deal with Joe Buck or Tim McCarver for another 3 months.

Thank merciful heavens

All-Star...still not Final

The AL just can't seem to get a run across. And I suppose I could blame Stinky...she left and Justin Morneau seemed to feel her absence, grounding out twice with an opportunity to be heroic.

Or I could just point out that this has actually been a pretty good game, the pitchers shut down batters whenever the pressure is on, the defense tightens up, both teams actually seem to want to win the game.

So the game is good, but there's still something off...something not named Joe Buck (whose incessant nay-saying of umpire's decisions makes me want to shove a remote control up his--hi grandma!)

No, it's Yankee fans. I know it's at their stadium, so I suppose they should be able to do whatever they want to do. But it seems...what's the word...craptastic...that the Yankee fans feel obliged to boo Boston players. 

(Oh and now Tim McCarver uses instant replay to find fault with Justin's defense, why don't you kiss my big fat--hi grandpa!)

I realize you are rivals. I realize you are to one another what Troy once was to Greece. But come on. You are allies with the Red Sox one day each year. For one day you work together to win one game. Even if you can't cheer for them, can't you just quietly leave them to do their job. Do you have to go out of your way to be jackasses Every--Single--Day of the Year?

I suppose that's a little like asking the same question of Buck/McCarver--but I felt the need.

Another update

I realize the foolishness of writing a blog update when many more people can watch the game on local tv rather than access this blog via the internet.

Yet, I continue to write.

I feel I ought to point out the following: every Twins batter has reached base when they came to the plate, and Joe Nathan pitched a perfect 7th inning.

Twins batters 2 for 2 with a walk
Red Sox/Yankees batters: 2 for 9 with a walk (and a home run...but that doesn't really count because Justin was one of the scoring runs and would have hit it further if he was batting at the time it was hit)


Mid All-Star Game Update

So I'm back from a trip around the Midwest major league baseball games.

The all-star game is on, I've had wine, beer, bratwurst, peanuts and am surrounded by parents, grandparents and my partner in crime. The crime of silliness.

While the game is intriguing, it's far more intriguing to listen to Joe Buck sycophantically blather about himself, Fox's new series, and now...the greatness of George Steinbrenner.

I'll now hand over to Kristina while I gag myself with a spoon.

Joe Buck: So, Yogi Berra, what do YOU feel is the meaning of life?? *cheesy smile*
Yogi: I uh...well...you know I always say that - 
Joe Buck: Couldn't agree more Yogi.  Alright well here comes Alex Rodriguez up for the American League.  You know aside from A-Rod's questionable personal life, which we won't say anything other than to say that well, it is questionable.  Man that is some shady stuff with Madonna isn't it Yogi?  What do you think?
Yogi: Well I think -
Joe Buck: And you know, it's quite the contrast from Joe Mauer.  In his spare time Joe enjoys saving kittens from forest fires.  He's also the only catcher in the American League who enjoys wearing rainbow socks on Thursdays.  Isn't that something?  
Yogi: The NL just scored a run.
Joe Buck: Hey isn't that something!  Wait what, is there a game going on?  Golly gee!  In- credible!!!

And now back to my smelly friend.

Guhh...uhh...god, that was nasty. It's the only thing that can remove the foul aftertaste of Joe Buck.

Anyway...something's are more palatable when you're surrounded by kick-ass people. My grandparents, my parents, and of course, my stinky, stinky compatriot.

More on the game as it develops.



So Justin is the Home Run Derby Champion (stick it Chicago sportscasters who wanted him to stink). But clearly everyone wishes that Josh Hamilton had won, who did hit a tonnage of home runs and inspire many, but still...

Couldn't someone say his name right?

Couldn't someone give the man some credit?

The State Farm CEO called him: "Jason Morneau" the other announcers called him "Mar-now" 

And yet, Morneau is humble, gracious, kind and deferential to Hamilton's great performance.

Now even I'm falling for him.


This was supposed to be up 24 hours ago...pretend will you?

Tomorrow the Midsummer classic will be played. But the average fan has a problem, who do you root for? Your favorite players regardless of where they play? The players from your team only? The league your team plays in?
The answer is you should cheer for whomever the Loathe-O-Meter tells you to. So now:
National League Loathe-O-Meter Factors:
  1.  Old School: The National League was the first national baseball league, they started the whole thing--they also kicked African Americans out of the game, and kept them out for half a century: *35 Loathing Points*
  2. Pitchers: The NL still asks pitchers to be complete athletes, swinging a bat as well as throwing a ball. It's baseball the way it's meant to be. *-25 Loathing Points*
  3. Yawn...: More than a few fans have a problem with the dearth of home runs in the NL, I think they're crazy, but if that's your thing... *5 Loathing Points*
  4. Cubby hole: There are 8 Cubs in the All-star game. They are the Yankees of this years' all star game, smug and assuming their greatness. Having been to Wrigley I can see why, but I don't have to like it. *10 Loathing Points*
  5. Scrappy: The NL swipes bags, hustles like crazy and hasn't won an All-star game in a decade. Root for the under dog *-40 Loathing Points*
American League Loathe-O-Meter Factors:
  1. The rebels: The spunky younger league invaded the fuddy-duddy establishment and brought youth and vitality to the game. They also were more tyrannical, parsimonious and vicious to minorities. *15 Loathing Points
  2. Lazy asses: no matter what others say, I dislike the DH, which, to me at least, smacks of an over grown gimmick and removes strategy from a great game. *20 Loathing Points*
  3. Original smug-itude: Yankees...Red Sox...shoot me *50 Loathing Points* 
  4. Josh Hamilton: No story is cooler than a guy who overcame serious problems, by himself and became an all-star after three years away from the game. *-32 Loathing Points*
  5. Twins: They are my boys, and I've got to love my boys. *-79 Loathing Points*
Final Score
National League: 15 Loving Points: Cold beer with the game
American League: 26 Loving Points: Cold beer and hot dog with the game
So it's the AL, but really, its baseball itself--Enjoy the game

Bullpen - neither a bull, nor a pen. Discuss.

But seriously though, what happened?
Rincon - gone.
Bonser - less boofishly rotund, but also less effective.
Gurrier - like a roller-coaster ride of relief pitching...
Bass - uh...

You get the picture. It isn't good, and in addition to the humiliating 18-3 loss, we've almost blown several wins. I'm guessing Scott Baker, et all are not super pleased.
So, i want to hear your thoughts. Bullpen - falling apart, what's the deal?


Same game, different perspective

On the same day that my esteemed colleague was lucky enough to actually be in Detroit, I was also watching the game, but in a much less real-life way.

It's become common practice for me, on days when games are early enough in the afternoon that I'm still at work, to have mlb.com's gameday screen discreetly hidden behind whatever work I'm doing at the time. I soon discovered that I wasn't alone in my cubicle game-watching - one day during a particulary quiet afternoon, my co-worker Jeff piped up from his desk "Hey, Twins are up 2-0!". Even though Jeff is in his late 40's, married with 3 kids and not much hair, we have somehow become office baseball watching buddies.

One of our sadder moments was the 18-5 loss to Boston on Wednesday...you know, I wanted to write about the Boston series. I really did. But I was having a crappy day and it just made me too depressed to even think about... so true to form, I'm going to try to block it from my mind. We're still only 1 game behind Chicago, so as far as I'm concerned, the Boston debacle never occured.

Moving on.

"Watching" Wednesday's game at work proved that watching stationary, identical batters not swing at small white spheres that leave behind trails of color depending on the pitch can be almost as suspenseful as actually watching the game. After the extremely depressing series-which-must-not-be-named (Volde-series?), it seemed like nothing would ever go right again for our beloved Twinkies. It was enough to make me want to go by all of their houses with plates of cookies and be like "Look guys...it's gonna be alright."
Was it though?
For a while on Wednesday, it looked like maybe not.

5 run inning for Detroit. Ok. Not so good.
Walking a guy on 3 pitches? Also not so good.
And then there were things I was glad I didn't see, like Justin Morneau's homer oh no wait it was a double...WTF?

Somehow, we came back to tie it up in the 9th. When we left Denard Span and little Nicky P stranded in the 10th I thought we'd only blown our chance...and then in the 11th hour...or the 11th inning...I felt a punch on my arm and there was Jeff in my cubicle with a super-excited gleam in his eye. "Go Morneau! Home run!" I high-fived him and then went back to my spreadsheet.

In an exclusive imaginary post-game interview conducted by me in my head, Justin described that glorious moment:
KG: So honey, I mean Justin I mean Mr. Morneau, how did it feel to hit the game-winning home run while simultaneously saving six children from a burning building?
JM: Well, I just was so pissed about the non-homer, and after Voldy-series I just had all this anger inside me you know?
KG: Hot.
JM: I know right?!? Anyways, I just was like "I'm gonna hit this ball!" And then I thought about how awesome Kristina is, and then...I remembered Supraction(TM)!!! It was like a lightning bolt from heaven... I forgot about Supraction(TM)! Well the second I decided to Supract those pimple-faces it was like nothing could stop my bat from connecting with that ball.
KG: You know it's funny you talk about "connection" because sometimes when I look into your eyes -
JM: Ooh hey free ice cream! (eagerly jogs in direction of free ice cream)
KG: Sigh.

So as you can see, Delmon Young has, in fact done good things for the Minnesota Twins - he has helped us Trademark our way to victory yet again!


An actual live report on the day in Detroit

Despite the absence of Dick and Bert, ESPN highlights do not do justice to the magic, the wonder, the indefinable thingitude of today's Twins/Tigers game.

Fortunately for you, Peanuts from Heaven Inc. had a reporter on the scene--and this is what really happened

After the Twins scored two runs on cranky old man Kenny Rogers (who shouted about begonias, and no good lousy kids, while Span and Punto ran around him), pitcher Kevin Slowey became distracted and flustered.

"I couldn't help it," Slowey said, "I saw Ben MacKenzie speaking to his father and I knew how Bruce felt about throwing first pitch strikes. And I wanted at least one person in Minnesota to know I did the right thing so...so...so...I gave a fat pitch that was a home run...it was all my fault."

Between his helpless sobs, people tried to inform him that the Twins had won the game, and everything was okay. Slowey's tears continued until pitching coach Rick Anderson took Slowey to the "nap room" despite Slowey's protestations of "But I'm not TI-ered!!!"

The Twins impressive comeback was keyed by Nick Punto, who was excited by the Tiger stadium's scoreboard advertisement. "It said 'Big Boy Nick Punto' I've been waiting for years to be called that. I was just so happy I had to show I really am a Big Boy!!"

After Joe Nathan used his laser vision to freeze Clete Thomas and Ivan Rodriguez, Justin Morneau won the game with a high arching home run that caused all Tiger fans around our reporter to mutter: "Oh shi--", while Justin simply stomped on home plate, saying: "that's why the ladies love me."

Replied the women of Minnesota: "sigh...."
That is all. More to come later.



Heart torn Asunder

As I watched part of last night's Boston vs. Satan game, I couldn't help but feel torn.
Yes, I hate the Yankees more than celery, people who walk too slow, and possibly even my alarm clock. I always, always want to see a Yankees game end in defeat and I sometimes watch them just for the sake of Schadenfreude.

However, last night, I wanted to bean Keven Youkilis in the face. I could not do this for two reasons:
1) I was sitting with my boyfriend, his family and a few other people who would have thought I was nuts.
2) He was an image on TV and was not in fact there in real life.

How could you, America? How could you let Taylor Hicks win American Idol, how could you vote George W Bush into office, and most importantly, how could you let sketchy goatee man go to the all star game before my wonderful perfect future husband Justin Morneau?

On the other hand, I am behind the Chairman 100% - go Mauer!


Know Thine Enemy #7: The Boston Red Sox

Reasons we should blast the Red Sox into the same tiny smithereens that the original Death Star became:
  1. Smug-osity: Boston's insufferable in a lot of ways, from their smug insistence that their suffering of 84 years without a championship was the most painful experience any person could ever endure, to their smug insistence that winning two championships has not made them smug. Any way you slice it, it's nearly impossible to endure the Red Sox. *57 Loathing Points*
  2. Big Papi: Before he was the home-run-swatting, clutch-hitting, immensely-popular force, he was a guy with a gut who couldn't hit the other way for the Twins. Some would call it jealousy...they would be right. *10 Loathing Points*
  3. Scrappy my ass: For all Boston's claims to the throne of ultimate underdog, there is only one team that spends more than they do. It's a little hard to overcome obstacles, when your obstacles are non-existent. *23 Loathing Points*
  4. A worthy adversary: The Twins are right behind the Red Sox for the fourth best record in the AL--that would be playoff position. After beating teams with worse records than us for the last three weeks, we now face a team that will actually test us. Crushing them thoroughly would be even more satisfying. *15 Loathing Points*
  5. Kevin Youkilis: The nastiest facial hair in baseball beat out our beloved Justin to start the all star game...he must pay the price for his insubordination. *8 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should simply bore the Red Sox into submission, as though we were Hayden Christiansen's acting:
  1. The enemy of my enemy is my friend: They are Jr. Yankees, but they are not the Yankees. No matter how smug, arrogant or wealthy they become, they are not now, nor will they ever really be the Bronx B*$*@*#s. *-45 Loathing Points*
  2. Homeboys: We all know and indulge Red Sox fans, uncles, glee club members, potential opera stars, even (sigh) my brothers (though the Twins take precedence). The beat down must be more gentle. *-6 Loathing Points*
Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 52 Loathing Points
(Also Known As: Nearly getting hit by someone who drives and talks on a cell phone)

A first glance at the NL All-stars

Here at Peanuts From Heaven Inc. we know that the busy Minnesota Twins fan doesn't necessarily have time to learn, or care about players on other teams. So we are happy to provide a quick glossary of who these players are and how you can recognize them.
Our overview of other all-stars continues with the National League
C-Geovany Soto--Non-descript, but thankfully wears a mask
1B-Lance Berkman--Mike Lamb's inspiration for a prospector's beard
2B-Chase Utley--as non-descript as Seto, but without the mask.
SS-Hanley Ramirez--mini-goat, plays like a young Alex Rodriguez
3B-Chipper Jones--who cares?
OF-Alfonso Soriano--looks/acts like he did with the Yankees, just wears a different uniform
OF-Kosuke Fukadome--Hansel to Ichiro's Zoolander
OF-Ryan Braun--big smile, searching for a synagogue in Milwaukee
C-Brian McCann--ATL--Tubby and scruffy...what a catcher ought to be
C-Russel Martin--LA--Rectangular headed Roy Campanella
1B-Albert Pujols--STL--The best hitting unibrow in baseball
1B-Adrian Gonzalez--SD--a cabana boy wannabe
2B-Dan Uggla--FLA--Mostly stoic with the odd crazy eyes
3B-Aramis Ramirez--CHI--Chicago loves the Lincoln-esque beard
SS-Miguel Tejada--HOU--A natural...user of steroids.
SS-Christian Guzman--WAS--Yes, Gooooooooooooooooooz-man. 
OF-Ryan Ludwick--STL--looks like an assistant auto mechanic 
OF-Matt Holiday--COL--NOT in Queen Latifa's "Last Holiday"
OF-Nate McClouth--PIT--The only talented man in Pittsburgh
Aaron Cook--COL--the man who's lucky his manager runs the NL team
Tim Lincecum--SF--looks like your precocious 12 year old neighbor
Dan Haren--AZ--mangy beard/quasi-mulleted hard thrower
Brandon Webb--AZ--That guy the Twins crushed a couple weeks ago.
Ben Sheets--MIL--That guy the Twins crushed a week ago.
Carlos Zambrano--CHI--loves his tongue, shows it to the world
Ryan Dempster--CHI--my goatee, minus my lack of athletic ability
Brian Wilson--SF--geometrically perfect goatee
Edinson Volquez--CIN--gum chewing rookie with a thundrous arm, watch him now before Baker ruins him like he ruined...
Kerry Wood--CHI--apparently he's only "mostly" dead
Brad Lidge--PHI--the most fragile psyche you've ever seen
Billy Wagner--NY--The only talented man in Shea stadium

A first glance at the AL All-Stars

Here at Peanuts From Heaven Inc. we know that the busy Minnesota Twins fan doesn't necessarily have time to learn, or care about players on other teams. So we are happy to provide a quick glossary of who these players are and how you can recognize them.
We start with the American League
C-Joe Mauer--radiates goodness and light
1B-Kevin Youkilis--hideous goatee masks charred soul
2B-Dustin Pedroia--Mr. Baby-face, sometimes wears eye-black, sometimes rainbow face paint.
SS-Derek Jeter--Mr. Yankee, the most hatable man in baseball.
3B-Alex Rodriguez--may have left his wife for Madonna...an idiot
OF-Manny Ramirez--nappy dreds cover the laziest ass in baseball
OF-Ichiro Suzuki--acts like he's too cool for school...which he is.
OF-Josh Hamilton--Mr. Heart Warming Redemption story
C--Dioner Navaro--TB--the guy who shoves Matt Garza
C--Jason Varitek--BOS--Has been crouching behind home plate since the pilgrims landed
1B--Justin Morneau--MIN--The guy with the backside
2B--Ian Kinsler--TEX--Clown hair sticks out behind his hat
SS--Michael Young--TEX--Searching for someone to care about him
3B--Joe Crede--CHI--A White Sock...erego, evil
UT--Carlos Guillen--DET--Squashy, mitt-like visage
OF--Milton Bradley--TEX--Mr. Copyright infringement ("Sorry!" "Boggle!" "Risk!")
OF--Carlos Quentin--CHI--his mlb.com picture looks like a mug shot
OF--Grady Sizemore--CLE--attractive...if you're from Cleveland.
OF--JD Drew--BOS--booed on his way out of every town he plays in
Scott Kazmir--TB--Cherubic cheeks, killer fastball
Roy Halladay--TOR--blonde beard, like a bachelor Norweigan farmer
Justin Duchscherer--OAK--Best ERA in AL, and even his mother couldn't find him in a line-up
Joakim Soria--KC--Stuck in KC and stuck with a psuedo Unibrow
Cliff Lee--CLE--We're playing against him RIGHT NOW! (And he's beating us...but his team didn't)
Ervin Santana--LA--dresses up like Johan to make himself feel good.
Joe Saunders--LA--Little Mr. Chipmunk cheeks
George Sherill--BAL--The pride of Austin Peay...wherever that is.
Mariano Rivera--NY--A pity selection/going away present
Johnathan Papelbon--BOS--irritatingly popular...irriatingly good
Joe Nathan--MIN--Our beloved hero, closing for America
Francisco Rodriguez--LA--Reacts to Ks like Tiger reacts to putts


A Quick Update from our Nation's Capital

Last night as I was watching the fireworks from the waterfront at Georgetown (and also watcihng the distant, flashing lights from the gazillion police cars that were parked on the bridge) I observed 2 things:
1) White Bear Lake, MN has a fireworks show that is at least as good as the one in DC. And I'm not just saying that because I'm biased.
2) No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I cannot stop obsessively checking baseball scores.

As we were waiting through the light drizzle for the fireworks to start, and others were nervous because the rain might stop the show, I was pleasantly relieved by our 3 run lead.

As the fireworks were crackling in the sky above our heads, I was getting a little nervous because our 3 run lead had been shortened to 2.

As we walked to a nearby bar to wait out the mad crowds on the metro, I was in suspense the whole time - did we hold them off? Or did Livan give up 10 more hits in the interem between now and the last time I checked (not implausible)? Luckily the bar we went to had a TV and was showing game recaps. Shockingly (read: not shocking at all) I had to sit through about a thousand hours of Red Sox recaps, Rockies recaps (???) and other east coast and west coast teams before we finally got to the Twins-Indians wrap, and i was pleasantly surprised by our 12-3 win. Good job Livan...and good job Justin and Delmon. I know, right...Delmon?!? Who'd have thunk!

As Matt pointed out (as I was impatiently waiting for a recap of the only game that was really important to me, other than the one the Chicago Bitch Sox were losing), "A Minnesota-Cleaveland game...out here, it might as well be Podunkville playing Saskachuan." The perception that everything between New York and California is a vast wasteland, except Chicago, never ceases to amaze me. Oh well... I guess it just means that we have a well-kept secret of awesome. Also we have a small market team. C'est la vie.


Bombs/balls bursting in air...

The Twins' clubhouse was quiet on July 4th, after an off day to rejuvenate their minds and spirits (and Craig Monroe's supply of acorns), they soon noticed something wasn't quite right.
"Hey," said Justin Morneau, between buttocks toning knee bends, "has anyone seen Little Nicky Punto?"
"You know," said Delmon Young as he crammed a rabbit into his hat, "since he made that sweet defensive play to beat the Tigers, I really haven't though about him."
"He hasn't been the batting cages...though god knows I've been looking for him," said Mike Redmond as he dropped his robe and strode proudly off for a little naked batting practice.
At that moment, Punto walked into the clubhouse, in a broad lapeled coat, a frilly shirt, a white wig, and a glazed look in his eye.
Shaggy Gurrier dared to ask what everyone was thinking: "Nicky P? Where have you been?"
"I watched the whole John Adams miniseries yesterday."
"Yeah...it was...it was--" and a single tear rolled down Nick's face as the silence grew.
"As overrated as Adams himself?"
"What?!? Did you call John Adams overrated?!"
"He was the only one term president in the first 50 years of the union--"
"Nobody could have followed Washington successfully!"
"He didn't fight in the army--"
"He was a little busy organizing the diplomatic efforts throughout all of Europe!"
"He passed the Alien and Sedition acts--"
"He...well...yeah that did suck...but he didn't want to!"
"I don't understand," said Denard Span, "why do you care so much?"
Little Nicky Punto looked around the clubhouse wildly, finding only quizzical faces and Brendan Harris cutting his eyes to the camera with a wry grin on his face, "Why do I--Why do I--he was--you don't--HE BUILT AMERICA!!! It's the Fourth of July, Independence Day, a day that would never have been if John Adams hadn't stood in Independence Hall and urged the waffling delegates of New York and Pennsylvania to rise above their petty differences and come together! The Declaration of Independence was Jefferson's writing of Adams' ideas! He kept us out of a disastrous war with France! JOHN ADAMS IS AMERICA!!!"
"Do you need a nap Nicky P?" asked Shaggy
"NO!! I need to dedicate my performance tonight to John Adams!! 
For he has inspired me to do great things for America!"
"And I will dedicate mine to Thomas Jefferson!" cried Delmon Young, "for he created the magical dumbwaiter!"
"And I will dedicate mine to Benjamin Franklin!" cried Livan Hernandez, rising from his hammock and putting down his Pina Colada. For he was as nearly as great a lover, as I am!"
And that's how the Minnesota Twins celebrated the best Fourth of July ever.

Know Thine Enemy #6: The Cleveland Indians

Reasons we should remember our founding fathers by blowing the Indians to smithereens:
  1. Chief Wahoo: The horribly racist Native American caricature still haunts the Indians, a grotesque specter of cultural insensitivity. (It's not as bad as cheering for a team whose mascot is a cultural epithet--I'm looking in your direction Washington Football Bigots.) I think for the next 100 years of their existence Cleveland should go by "The Whites" with Honkey Von Cracker III, whose image will be a pasty white boy with a blonde pompadour sipping chardonnay with a sketchy half grin, and a cocked eyebrow. I'm just saying, if we're going to offend someone, lets offend in equal measure.  *25 Loathing Points*
  2. Bob Feller: Great pitcher, giant tool. *5 Loathing points*
  3. The end of Captain Cheeseburger: If you are a semi-serious baseball fan, chances are that you've noticed the Indians aren't doing real well lately. They're last in the AL Central (after many "experts" predicted they'd win the World Series) and after a sweep in Chicago they seem to be too far out, too late in the season to hold on to hope. So, C.C. Sabathia, the ace of Cleveland's rotation for the last 7 years, will likely be gone from Cleveland soon, maybe to Milwaukke, maybe the Cubs, but where ever he goes, he should get whooped before he goes. *10 Loathing Points*
Reasons we should remember our founding fathers by, as so often has happened in our history, ignoring the Indians pain for our own gain:
  1. The Curse: With the Sox's demons (both Red and White) thoroughly exorcised, the Indians stand alone as the longest losing franchise in The American League. For 60 years the Indians have lost, lost, and lost some more. But more impressively, Indians fans don't whine about it like Red Sox and Cubs fans do, they just suffer, why add to that? *-6 loathing points*
  2. Half-strength: It's something I often bring up, but why crush the crippled? The Indians aren't nearly as bad off as the Nationals or Padres, but they are playing without All-Stars Victor Martinez and Travis Hafner, and are also missing Jake Westbrook and Fausto Carmona from their rotation. Half the Indians, half the beat down. *-7 Loathing Points*
Final Loathe-o-Meter Rating: 27 Points
Also Known As: the "comedy" of Kathy Griffin


A solution for a slow summer day

Today is one of those brutal days. The day before a 3-day weekend, the day before a massive celebration, with all sorts of great things waiting to be had, and all of them just out of reach.

But worst of all, for the baseball addict, it is an off-day, with no game on FSN, no game on ESPN, no game on the radio, no game immediately accessible in any way. Most people have obvious distractions, and, lest we forget, as Jon Stewart might say: "it's not insulin, I can live without it." But the truth is, while I can live with out it, I'd really rather not.

So, how do you get your fix on an off day?

You can read of course, you can see what Patrick Reusse and Jim Souhan have to complain about today. You can, if you have cable, sit and stare at ESPN listening to everything their dozens of talking heads have to say...though, you will undoubtedly be dumber for it. You can tune in talk radio and hear inane chatter from both pundits and guys with nothing better to do (like me).

Or, you can do a brief and entertaining study of baseball history.

Here's what you do: Go to the public library, where there are educational documentaries, available for free. Find Ken Burns' Baseball series. Pull any episode off the shelves. Enjoy.

This is the 5th time I've watched the series and I love it every time I do. It is, basically, a beginner's guide to Baseball's greatness. With profiles of classic stars from Christy Matthewson through Carlton Fisk, accounts of great teams and games from the Hitless Wonder White Sox of 1906, to the Gas House Gang St. Louis Cardinals, to the Big Red Machine, and detailed analyses of critical struggles in the game (including labor struggles, the Negro Leagues and the waxing and waning of the game's economics) the series entertains and educates in equal measure (it edutains).

Interviews with Ted Williams and Negro League legend Buck O'Neil bring the old times to life, while intellectual elites turn Baseball into a metaphor for life, the universe and everything, and some of the world's best actors (including Anthony Hopkins, John Tuturro, Garrison Kiellor and John Cusack) read the words of long forgotten stars.

You learn a great deal, and though the study of each decade takes two hours, the quality of the study is worth the investment of time. It provides a critical compendium of baseball history from 1830-1970 (though it feebly limps through the 70s and 80s and shows one or two images of the 90s). Though it skews towards the Red Sox, Yankees and Dodgers, it is a reflection of the game's yearly highs and lows and general trends.

You can't watch baseball every day, but with the right balance of history and current events, you can deepen your love for the game.

And that's how I make it through these days.


Why I wear the horns

Today, with a murky economical forecast, political dissatisfaction at home and abroad, and gas prices higher than any ball players' batting average, one blogger for this site worked to help a company improve its position in the market place, while the other used their Harvard Glee Club contacts to get a free ticket so that they could drink beer, eat dollar hot dogs, and watch the Twins' merry-go-round offense dismantle the Detroit Tigers.

Seriously, who amongst us is the most evil?