Road Woes

You know it. I know it.

We stink on the road.

Friday--not bad, but we lost. Saturday--pretty bad, and we lost again. (Let us say no more about them) Today--things were going fine until the Undercover Nerd struck again, that we endured is a credit to Dr. Cakeburn and the randomly excellent bottom of the order.

Why? Why are we not so good when we leave the Metrodome? Is it simple longing for hot dish and tuna casserole? Is it heartache and home sickness and the fact that we don't send along care packages? Is it that home teams have an inherent advantage with their fans, their field, the last at bat, and umpires who would like to not be shot by virulent Yankee fans?

Or is it Target Field?

On Saturday Stinky and I moved her belongings from St. Paul to her new home in southern Minneapolis. From six AM until six PM dressers, bureaus, shelves, bed frames, mattresses (mattressi?) went up stairs and down stairs and up stairs again. After all of this we barely had enough energy to eat pizza, let alone converse with our friends over drinks, and we definitely would not have had enough energy to play quality baseball in a cacophony of cowbells. 

So as we continue our streak of road trips with 1 win. We hope that the boys are not too tired for pizza, drinks with friends, or baseball in any form. If they are, we will proudly volunteer to move some things over to Target Field if they like. Bats, helmets, the Blue Bunny Bouncy Ball Bucket, whatever. We don't even require payment: just an extra pulled pork sandwich or two, whatever it takes to win more than one game every time we go on the road.

My Overactive Imagination Strikes Again

So, when I'm at work during a game, I am forced to rely on Gameday for all of my baseball knowledge. While it is nice to have an idea of what's going on, there's usually just enough information to make me totally frustrated. Why the delay? What's going on!? "In play, out(s)"??? HOW MANY?? WHY?? DAHHHHH WHAT IS HAPPENING????

As you can tell I'm a bit of a worrier.

The worrying is mitigated only slightly by making up stories in my head about what is going on. These stories usually involve fantastical things that would never actually happen on a baseball field, like alien abductions, or statue abductions, or Craig Breslow throwing strikes.

Today, I witnessed players and managers being ejected from the game willy-nilly, with no explaination as to why this was all happening. It drove me nuts. I threw a sharpie agains the wall of my cubicle. No seriously, I actually did do that.

I found out later that Redmond and Varitek were ejected for arguing calls at home plate, and Gardy and Francona were ejected for trying to have their respective catcher's back. But in my head, this is what happened:

[Tichenor makes a bad call at home plate]
REDMOND: Hey man -- you just made a bad call at home plate.
TICHENOR: [Turns slowly to glare at Redmond. His eyes are strangely red and glowing]. Oh?
REDMOND: OH YEAH! You have BAD JUDGEMENT!
TICHENOR: You do not want to make me angry. I have powers.
REDMOND: What powers, the power of suck? The power of unfairness and destruction of all that is good in the world.
TICHENOR: Alright, that's enough from you. Now you will know REAL pain -- [pulls magic megaphone out of pocket] PENGUINS.... ATAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!

[Rabid penguins suddenly flood the metrodome, appearing from the dugout, the ground, the sky, OMG they're everywhere!!! They consume Mike Redmond in a single gulp

GARDY: [bursts from the dugout] NOOOOO!!!!! Mikey!!!! Come back!!! Don't take him you bastards!!!


[Gardy puts up a good fight but is sadly consumed by the flock of rabid penguins]

TECHINOR: Heh heh.

[Later on - 7th inning]
VARITEK: You made a bad call again!
TECHINOR: You really want to argue with me? After you've seen what I can do? The power I weild? [eyes flash red again]
VARITEK: Dude. I play for the Red Sox. We chest bump all the time and we're totally bad ass, plus we get paid a lot of money. You can't do anything to me.
TECHINOR: Oh really? [Raises eyebrow]

[The penguins return in even greater numbers than before, and Varitek is gone within seconds. Terry Francona makes a desperate attempt to pull him from the massive pile of attacking birds but, not being quite as bad-ass as Gardy, is pulled into the fray within about 2 seconds]

And then we lost.

In other penguin-related news, I saw this humidifier at Target:


It's totally adorable. I might get one.

WTF Mate????

I'm at work and I have no idea what the heck is going on right now.
Redmond, Gardy, Varitek and FRANCONA even got thrown out of the game????????
What happened???????????? Can someone please tell me WHAT IS GOING ON ??????
LIVE GAMEDAY UPDATE IS NOT INFORMATIVE ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Since there appears to be nobody around to enlighten me, I'll just assume that rabid penguins have attacked the Metrodome.

The best part....

of our win last night was (in addition to Mr. Morneau's home run and my co-blogger's aura of goodness and light in my place of employ) was watching the vaunted Red Sox line-up strike out and then whine about striking out.

Intrepid reporter Merlin overheard the following conversation in the Red Sox dugout after both MVP Dustin Pedroia and MVG (most vile goatee) Kevin Youkilis finished their warmups prior to the first inning.

Pedroia: I hear from Ozzie Guillen that this pitcher sucks!

Youkilis: I hear from the ESPN that we rule! [chest bump]

David Ortiz [sitting away from everyone, crying softly over his slowly dying career]: I would not say such things if I were you...

Pedroia: Whatever old timer...you just miss the days in Minnesota when you were all potential and no production

Youkilis: As opposed to now when you are just no production at all

Pedroia: OH SNAP! [chest bump]

Ortiz: You two don't understand...the Nick Blackburn you've heard of in scouting reports is no more...

Pedroia: What do you mean?

Ortiz: He used to struggle, used to fail, used to be another erratic young pitcher, but then, one day he learned how to harness the power of cake, and now...now...

Youkilis: Now what?

Ortiz: Now he uses the power of cake to bedevil hitters and render them utterly useless, feeble, groundball swatting turd piles...do not speak ill of that man, for if you do, the mild-mannered Nick Blackburn you all believe to be hittable will vanish and in his place will rise the nefarious Dr. Cakeburn, hurler of pastries and despoiler of batting averages.

Pedroia/Youkilis: Whatever, we're totally awesome, and we chest bump all the time [Chest bump]

...later in the first inning Pedroia is behind in the count 1-2, smiling smugly to himself, then finds a Little Debbie Zebra Cake thrown across the plate...befuddled, and hungry, he lunges at it, then pretends he did, is called out on strikes and doesn't even get to keep the Zebra Cake.

...Still later in the first inning, with Youkilis behind in the count 1-2, stroking his goatee smugly in the face of Justin Morneau he is startled to see another Zebra Cake pelting down at him, he too lunges, and he too strikes out.

Back in the dugout Pedroi and Youkilis look over at Ortiz who simply shakes his head and says:

"That's the power of cake M*****-******s"

Look at Ortiz's stomach, that man knows the power--and danger--of cake.

*Ps, yes, I know that Pedroia and Youkilis also got hits and Pedroia got an RBI double off of Blackburn, but the mopey whiny looks on their faces after the strike outs were just too beautiful--chest bumping knuckleheads.

Yay!

Dear Red Sox:
Have you learned nothing? I think most people have figured out by now that walking Mauer to get to Morneau = bad life choice. Also Blackburn pitched a hell of a game.

I had the pleasure of watching this game at the place of Scruffy's employment, while eating blue cheese fries with a friend, which made it even better if possible. Blue cheese fries are delicious. Wine is also delicious...mmm wine...

After Morneau's homer, RT, our secret correspondent from Boston, texted me the following: "Are u watching the game? Awesome!!" (I should mention that while RT does live in Boston, she hates Red Sox fans and, by association, the Red Sox. God I love her).

And finally, I'd like to give a shoutout to our old friend Lovin' Livan, who, although he has moved on from his love for the Dome, got a win for the Mets yesterday - well done little friend.

Two Recaps and a Study

So here's all you need to know about the last two games. Sunday=Good, very very good, particularly the hitting of the grand slam home runs. Monday=Not so very good--but there is this consolation: the Red Sox barely won, while playing our B-team, our team without Crede, Span or Mauer--we'll see whose smiling after the next three games.

It's in that spirit we present a spirited debate with close friend and serious Red Sox fan, Alyson "Sparky" McManus (formerly our team mate on the Great Falls High School Speech and Debate Team--Go Bison): Which team is better top to bottom--the Red Sox or Twins?

Let's debate it up! Starting with Catcher:

 

Sparky: well lets put it this way..there is no debate at the catchers position..Joe Mauer is who id take if i was going to pick a franchise catcher. Jason Varitek is a waste of air--I've seen cadavers with stronger arms.

Scruffy: Well thank you for making my case for me. First base?

 

Sparky: Well the way I see it is you've got Mr Canada vs Mr Jewish Greek God of walks, both great hitters, both decent fielders

Scruffy: But only one of them has a god awful goatee--and that man is disqualified Advantage Twins! 2nd Base:

 

Sparky: Pedroia, mvp, short firebrandy, but pulled a ryan leaf* by dissing his own town..that had to knock him down some points...who is your 2b? (*Sparky and I hate Ryan Leaf--he came from our home town and shamed us all)

Scruffy: It was Alexi Casilla, is currently Matt Tolbert and should probably be Brendan Harris...all of whom I love, but none of whom is an MVP... I cede the advantage to the Sox there. Short?

 

Sparky: pedroia is 5'8 supposedly

Scruffy: (Short Stop)

 

Sparky: oh. Well I’ve got mr julio lugo you have nick punto...julio lugo is so awful we cant trade him to the toledo mud hens for a bus. Punto is underrated, you trusted punto enough to trade jason bartlett away

Scruffy: Yeah....not the best idea when it comes to offense, however, defense is our strong suit and Nicky P makes it so that you have a three foot area that you have to try and hit the ball too   Advantage Twins! Third Base!

 

Sparky: Well put together joe crede's back and lowell's hip and you've got a golden girl. Lowell is a world series mvp whose best years are behind him but he’s hitting well recently Crede well is joe crede

Scruffy: I say old accomplishments don't count. While both are fading hitters, Crede still has great range when he's playing the bag which means more or less any ball hit to the left side of the infield is gobbled up like a pork chop on Rush Limbaugh's dinner plate. Advantage Twins! Left field:

Sparky: Jason Bay is the s***, he’s canadian, and an alumunus of gonzaga university** plus he doesnt pee inside the green monster between innings and have dreadlocks like the predator. (**As is Sparky)

 

Scruffy: Wheras Denard Span thanks god for everything that has ever happened in the history of ever. Denard knows his place in the grand scheme of the World, and Mr. Bay, though talented is far more uppity. God blesses Denard, and by association: The Twins. Advantage Twins (spiritually) Advantage Red Sox (basebally) Center Field:

Sparky: well we've got one of three native americans ranging the cf for us, hes fast, he takes walks, and hes a decent fielder, plus his girlfriend is smoking

 

Scruffy: It doesn't matter, because our Centerfielder is of Velocoraptorian decent Given the way he screams and ranges to both his left and right and is beginning to show the ability to hit for power. So while I grant you that Ellsbury is good. I do believe that my Gogo is better (and a lot more insane)! Advantage Twins! Right Field!

 

Sparky: Well we’ve got another back problem. JD Drew, he can hit, he’s proven that he can do well in boston under pressure, including key hits in the 07 run to the title

 

Scruffy: Okay, so he can hit under pressure and hit well, he also can't field worth a dump. Wheras we have a Rightfielder who hits like a badass, fields like a gazelle, throws like Thor and does magic tricks.Advantage TWINS! DH?

 

Sparky: Papi cant hit

 

Scruffy: Jason Kubel can. Advantage Twins. Bench:

 

Sparky: well we've got some great guys on the bench our other catcher is actually greek and has found out how to catch wake's knucklers, we also have alot of aaa guys up cuz of kotsay and others on the dl

 

Scruffy: Whereas we have one catcher who has on at least one verified occasion taken BP naked

 

Sparky: Mike Redmond is so old he caught for Grover Cleveland Alexander

 

Scruffy: And a host of middle infielders who are so scrappy that when they take the field it takes the whole crowd one inning to figure out whose playing where, Plus there's Delmon...who can’t field or run that great, and forgets how to hit occasionally...I think Bench might need to be a push. Starters:

  

Sparky: well we have a world series mvp, a guy who beat cancer and threw a no hitter in the same year, a guy that uses the craziest pitch as his main pitch, a former dodger who's 4-1, and a guy from Jamaica right now, but we are sitting with dice k and smotlzy on the dl

 

Scruffy: I won't lie, that is formidable, However, we have a bunch of guys who through the ball in the strike zone, do not give up walks and pitch to contact...which given the strength of our defense is all we really need. They don't have the endurance that your guys do, but they get the outs they need and keep the lead and all while being far lest costly than Josh Becketts Man-tan.

 

Sparky: Yeah, Beckett’s man tan is crazy bad, I think its a push

 

Scruffy: I'll take that. Bullpen: HA! Red sox Win. Managers:

 

Sparky: Well Gardy’s been there for awhile...but two world series rings

Scruffy: However, your manager doesn't spend his offseasons in an old person’s garden, pushing a wheel barrow towards a well. Nor does your manager get ejected just for the fun of it!

 

Sparky: Tito is too calm

 

Scruffy: Exactly, it'd be interesting though if your team was managed by the guy from little big league. Advantage Twins! So I tally the score up thusly: Twins win at Catcher, 1st, Short, Third, Center, Right, and with the Manager, Red Sox win at 2nd, Left, and bullpen Starters and bench are a push. Twins 7--Red Sox 3 TWINS WIN! Thank you for playing. Now get out

What pitcher's that again?

Glen Perkins was so awesome at the beginning of the season that our misfortunes were dimmed by his brilliance. Of late, Glen has been not so great, which explains why Glen had to go to the disabled list, but who, oh who would take his place.

Manager Ron Gardenhire explained to us in a Peanuts from Heaven exclusive:

Gardy: We've got a young pitcher whose going to start on Saturday.

PFH: Oh, yeah Gardy? Which pitcher is that?

Anthony Swarzak: SWARZAK!

Gardy: He's a young gun from Rochester with a hellacious sinker.

PFH: Who?

Swarzak: SWARZAK!

Gardy: He's coming up to cover Perk, who seems to be a little hurt.

PFH: But wouldn't that be bad for Perkinses career and salary?

Gardy: Naw, if you get hurt and miss work, just call this kid and it won't hurt to miss work.

PFH: Which kid?

Swarzak: SWARZAK!

Gardy: And he doesn't give up runs, which is just as good as scoring them.

PFH: How very zen Gardy...

Swarzak: SWARZAK!!

Anthony Swarzak: ask about him at the Metrodome.

I'm liking this...

whole new batting order/run-scoring barrage. However, now that we have scored as many runs in two games as we scored in a normal month last year, I will use my low expectations to assume that we will never score ever again, nor win, nor smile.

But in the mean time we leave with Michael Cuddyer, he of the impossibly deep dimples, and blindingly white teeth...do not stare too closely at Michael Cuddyer's smile, it is like the sun and we would hate for our beloved readers to go blind.

Ps. We are not sure whether Michael is on the left or the right in this picture.

Eat your Vegetables!

[The Twins are sitting in the visitors clubhouse at Chicago, bemoaning their sad fate after being slapped around a little by Gardy and chowing down on Twinkies.]

DENARD SPAN: Man... Gardy totally just yelled at us like we were little pansies. And look how much he scared Carlos!
[points to Gomez, who is curled up under a bench with his hands over his ears]
GOMEZ: I DIDN'T EAT THE COOKIE I PROMISE!!! *sniffle sniffle*

MORNEAU: Yeah... ouch dude. Well, I mean he has kind of a point - we are little pansies. [pauses] Well, most of you guys are little pansies anyways. The Joes and I are definitely not pansies, except occasionally Joe Crede. But mostly not at all. [sighs] I don't know what the problem is...

TOLBERT: Hey cheer up guys! I have more Twinkies!

BLACKBURN/CAKEBURN: Ooh almost like cake!

CUDDY: And I have the latest season of "Rock of Love" on DVD! Even if we don't win, we can still have a super-bad-ass time hanging out like bros and being totally awesome and adorable [smiles so brightly that some of the mirrors in the locker room crack and Carlos has to cover his eyes]

CREDE: I don't know...I feel kind of fatigued. Tired. Not quite myself.

GOMEZ: I'm sleepy....

MORNEAU: Yeah you're right, I do feel strangely iron deficient.

CREDE: Wait... haven't we been eating nothing but Twinkies for the last six days?

SPAN: You're right! Man that's no good at all, we need some nutrition! Matty, go get the spinach!

TOLBERT: [Blank stare]

MORNEAU: Um... you did remember to get the spinach right?

TOLBERT: Wait I was supposed to get spinach? WHY DON'T YOU GUYS EVER TELL ME THESE THINGS, ALL I GOT WAS TWINKIES!!!

CRAIN, ZE UBERMENSCH: The rookie is always supposed to get the spinach, Tolbert you fool! What will we do without our spinach - without it we're weak, fallible, and vulnerable to being crushed under the vast metaphorical shoe of any team with stronger hitting! BAHHH I CAN'T BE WEAK!!! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO!!?!?!?

SPAN: It's ok man...just...calm down.

CREDE: Wait! I have an idea! [all turn to look at him simultaneously] ...I know where the White Sox keep their spinach. If we sneak in, very quietly, I might be able to get some for us. But I'll need some help. Someone small and quick -

GOMEZ: OOH me!!! mememem!!! pick me!!!!

CREDE: - and quiet, who won't say anything stupid and give us away. So...not you.

GOMEZ: [sad face]

SPAN: What about Little Nicky Punto? He's super-stealthy and can grab things that are moving fast. You guys are two of the best fielders we have, besides me obviously... with the two of you working your magic we can't fail to get that spinach! Hurry, we only have 5 minutes!

ALL: YEAH!!!!!

[2 minutes later, in the Sox clubhouse]
CREDE: Knock knock!
THOME: Hey man! Uh what are you doing here?
CREDE: Oh I just came to say hi to my old buddies! Where's that little whippersnapper A.J.? [begins walking towards other end of clubhouse]

THOME: Oh I think he's right over - HEY OUR SPINACH!!!

[Crede has reached the White Sox spinach stash and grabbed several cans]

CREDE: Nicky, catch!!!

[Out of nowhere, Nick Punto appears, having hidden himself behind Joe Crede in order to sneak into the clubhouse. He bolts for the exit and effortlessly catches all 20 cans as Crede throws them towards the door]



PUNTO: Wheeeeeeeee!!! [Runs away]
CREDE: SEE YA, SUCKAS!!!! [follows]

[Back in the Twins clubhouse]

CREDE: Victory is ours!!! Spinach is ours!!! Yeah! [Breaks out a can and begins chowing down] I feel better already! Here you go Cuddy, you look so freaking cute I can't help but give you some of my spinach. [Shares spinach wtih Cuddy - totally adorable].
CUDDY: RAAAARRR!!! [Muscles on Cuddy's arms baloon up to a ridiculous size] Let's go kick some ass!!!
[Crede and Cuddy proceed to hit back-to-back homers]



[Later on]

TOLBERT: Uh so I guess you were right about the spinach. Twinkies are mostly empty carbs anyways...umm...can I try some? [Cuddy flashes him another blinding smile and passes a can of spinach. Tolber takes a bite] YARGGGGHHH!!! I FEEL INVINCIBLE!!! [Goes out and hits a three run homer]

[And the Twins proceeded to win 20-1, which just goes to show that if they'd had their spinach from the beginning we totally would have won all of those games. This is coming from the daughter of a nutritionist. Twinkies = bad. Spinach = good. Happy memorial day!!!!]

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Milwaukee Brewers

Phew, the road trip is over, and the boys are coming home, and now its time for interleague play, so let's examine our latest foe: The Milwaukee Brewers

Reasons we should slice and dice the Brewers into fun little cubes that can then be speared by toothpicks and and served on a silver platter.

1. Border War: I don't pretend to understand it. Both states have roughly the same geography, demographics and interests in the welfare of their people. And both states have a whole infatuation with Brett Favre that I can't even pretend to understand. Whatever the case, Minnesota V.s. Wisconsin is serious business, so this is serious business. *38 Loathing Points*

2. Shockingly important: Pop quiz hot shot--Who are the two best teams in the National Leagues? Lots of people know the Dodgers are up there, with or without Manny; number 2? The Brewers...honest to god, the Brewers. So...if we beat them, we make a bold statement about how far we can go this season, and make ourselves a serious contender for best team in the AL (assuming we can ever win games on the road). *26 Loathing Points*

3. Bud Selig: Don't know what in the hell he's still doing in charge of the game. Don't know why in the hell he got the job in the first place. Can hardly wait to get rid of the man. And send him back to--WISCONSIN...from whence all evil things derive. *94 Loathing Points*

Reasons we should invite the Brewers to join us for a serving of fondu, and offend them so much that they run away crying.

1. Brauny Vegetarians: Got to admit, the Brewers are an amusing bunch. A power hitting Jewish Right Fielder and a rather tubby vegetarian first baseman. Now that they sound like a punk band, they are harder to hate. *-18 Loathing Points*

2. Keep the Peace: If Hamlet the Quarterback ever gets off the dime and comes to the land of 10,000 lakes troops will amass on the borders. If Hamlet the quarterback lands in purple and gold AND we beat the ever loving snot out of the Brewers, its just ON. So lets take a deep breath, count to ten, and avoid a civil war. *-100 Loathing Points*

Final Loathe-o-Meter Rating: 40 Loathing Points 

(+26 Loathing Points from last year)

Punishment: Being tied in a sack with a badger and a gopher.

We lead 8-0

Lalalala.........
I will not get my hopes up. I will not get my hopes up. I will not get my hopes up. I will not get my hopes up.


Cuddy is adorable even while smashing one out of the park.

I will not get my hopes up.
I will not get my hopes up.
I will not get my hopes up.

The word 'hopes' looks funny after you write it a lot.

Trite but True

Okay--this needs to stop. The losing and the not playing so well and the whatnots.

Fixating on what's gone wrong doesn't help.

Demanding perfection in the near or immediate future doesn't help.

Playing hard, playing well, playing your best whenever you have the chance, giving 110% every time you take the field, focusing on what you can do in each individual at bat, taking the season one game at a time.

That is Zen baseball, that is Twins baseball. So repeat after me: Ohm Ani Pani Ooom, One Game At A Time, Ohm Ani Pani Oooom, Love the Twins Win or Lose, Ohm Ani Pani Ooom.....

I feel better already

......................

So, I have a confession to make.
I haven't watched the last two games.
When high expectations didn't work, and low expectations didn't work, and disastrously low expectations didn't work, I was willing to try just about anything to help our boys win. If Gardy had called me up yesterday and said "look Stinky, I need you to eat liver and beans every day for a year, it's the only way we can win!" I'd have been happy to oblige. But he didn't. So I did the baseball equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears, closing my eyes and going "LALALALA"... which is basically I stayed as far away from TV's and radios as possible, only to check the score at 10pm and find out that my brilliant strategy had failed.

Booo.
So, my theory is this - something happened in New York. Something so horribly, terribly upsetting that Gardy and the boys can't even talk about it. Something.... like this:

[In the clubhouse before the 9th inning, Friday may 15 - the Minnesota Twins are getting ready to kick some Yankee ass]
JUSTIN 'HOT PANTS' MORNEAU: Doo-do-doo-do-do, we are totally winning, gonna kick some Yankee ass, doo-do-doo-do-doo...
CUDDYER, MASTER OF SUPRACTION: Hey remember last night on Real World/Road Rules Challenge when that guy totally beat the crap out of that other guy? This is gonna be just like that... ONLY BETTER!!!
ALL: YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!
[Suddenly and without warning, the wall of the visitors' clubhouse is smashed apart, and as the cust clears, the Twins see Yogi Berra emerge through the crumbling cement]
YOGI: Don Joe-VAAAAAAAA--NNIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!

MAUER: Uh... what? Yogi...are you OK dude?
YOGI: Oh I'm not really Yogi. I'm just that statue from the Yankee Museum.
HOT PANTS: Oh. That explains why you're like 8 feet tall.
YOGI: I am here for Don Joe-vanni! I must avenge my wrongful death.
CUDDYER: Dude you're still alive.
YOGI: AHA!!!! (Points at Joe Mauer) THERE HE IS!!!!
MAUER: Uh... but... you've got the wrong guy. I'm Joe.
YOGI: YES!!! DON JOE-VANNI!
MUER: But... wait! I didn't kill you! That's... this is ridiculous! Besides (points to Crede) his name is Joe too! And same with - (starts to point to Joe Nathan, then realizes what inning it is, and stops) um..... yeah that's all I got.
YOGI: Two Joe-vannis! MWAHAHAHA!!! I will now drag you down into the firey pits of hell!!!
[Yogi grabs the two Joes and begins to drag them, kicking and screaming, through the hole in the wall. Crede attempts to smash the statue with his super-smash capabilities but it is no use. Just as they are almost gone...]
GOMEZ: JOE-vanni! Joe!!! Joe, ju-Joe Joe Joe!!! (begins dancing around Dread Pirate Nathan) Joe Joe Joe, Joe Joe Joe....
YOGI: [stops] Wait... is his name Joe too?
DP NATHAN: [look of panic] NARRRR!!!!
GOMEZ: Yes it is sillypants!
CUDDYER: [to Gomez] Dude what are you doing we need him! Did you forget to take your nap today Carlos?
GOMEZ: Joe!!!!!!!! [Gives DP Nathan a giant hug]
DP NATHAN: Awww.... yarrr....
YOGI: JOE THE THIRD!!! MWAHAHAHA!!! [Grabs Dread Pirate Nathan, who attempts to slay him with a sword, forgetting that swords don't exactly work against hard, solid objects]
CUDDYER: But...we need him!!! Who's going to pitch the 9th??
YOGI: Oh um... well you're right. Sorry about that. Here, you can have this muppet instead. It kind of looks like him... it might not pitch as well but it's the best I can do. See ya!
THREE JOES: NNnnnnnooooooo!!!!!!!
[But their protests are useless, and they are carried off by the statue of Yogi Berra. Unsurprisingly, the muppet Joe Nathan does not pitch well and the Twins lose their lead in the 9th]

[The following day]
CUDDYER: Ok guys - we can totally do this! I know we're Joe-less...but we're not alone! We still have supraction, and Ze Ubermensch, and Hot-Pants, and Jason Ku-dubel. We'll be fine, no worries!
[At that exact moment, the statue of Yogi enters again through the hole in the wall]
YOGI: Don Joe-VAAAAAA-NIIII!
HOT-PANTS: Dude.... seriously? Again?
CUDDY: You got all the Joes. Go away.
YOGI: Yeah I know but... it didn't work. It didn't avenge my death...
ALL: THAT'S BECAUSE YOU AREN'T DEAD!
YOGI: [ignoring them] .... so I figured I'd just take everyone whose name starts with a J.
CRAIN, HOT-PANTS, MIJARES, MORALES, KUDUBEL: NOOOOO!!!!
CUDDY: Wait you can't do that, you've got it all wrong! There's no Joe in Giovanni, there isn't even a J! This is completely out of control!
YOGI: Um.. yeah. Don't really care. Sometimes, when you add up two and two, you still get two of each.
ALL: Huh?
YOGI: Exactly. Goodbye friends.
CRAIN: But...this is a logical fallacy! Don Giovanni isn't even a man, he's a force of nature! A metaphor! I've read Kierkegaard dammit, you can't hide the truth! Mozart's version of Don Juan is representative of the erotic stage of...ahhhhhhh..... [his voice trails off as he is carried away].
DENARD SPAN: So... this sucks.

And suck it did. For the next three days.

All I can say is, it's a good thing I took Music 345 with Alice Hanson otherwise I'd have had no idea what happened.

So Dear Gardy - if there's anything I can do to help...anything at all... just let me know. I'd be happy to sacrifice a goat or drink 2 Nalgenes full of water in under a minute if it would help you win.

Love, Stinky.

Damn it all

You knew it was going to happen didn't you.

I present a new philosophy: Low Expectations against the teams we should beat (i.e Everyone outside of New York and Boston), and Confidence bordering on bitter contempt against the evil empires.

So look out Chicago here we come (and with our low expectations, we'll expect to lose every game for the rest of eternity)

Damn the Third

That makes it: Yankpires/Forces of Evil/Admitted Steroid Users/Probable Steroid Users/Absurd Wads of Cash/Darth Steinbrenner--3

Good guys/Dread Pirates/JM Squared/Starting Pitchers/Garden Gnomes/Sweetness and Light--0

I think what makes this all so terrible is that, except for the leaving men on base (which we don't normally do) and the disaster area that is the bullpen, we should have won these games. We've got the skills to beat these guys, and we just aren't catching the breaks. 

Probably because Yankee Stadium and all those who reside there are pure unadulterated evil.

Please, just make the pain stop.

Damn Again

Yankpires/Forces of Evil/Admitted Steroid Users 2--Good Guys/Dread Pirates/JM Squared 0

I think the problem is that no matter how low I say my expectations should be I genuinely feel like we ought to bludgeon the ever living day lights out of the Yankees until they crumble into a thousand little pieces which we can then dust bust and spew into outer-space where they will only ruin the Martian League Baseball, instead of our own Major League Baseball.

(Deep cleansing breath, two more games, two more games)

Damn

I thought we had that one.

Chalk up one (and hopefully, only one) for evil.

Yankpires 1--Good Guys (particularly Dread Pirates) 0

(Low expectations say it will get worse--heart says I will love them no matter what)

Good V. Evil

To begin with, WOO A SWEEP!!! I believe that one of the root causes of this sweep was that Stinky and I, in a text conversation, bemoaned our likely loss thusly: "We probably won't win because a man in a giant chicken suit will kidnap Mauer, Morneau and Kubel and demand a ransom."

As such, during the 6-run making 7th inning, while I was driving to teach a friend's improv troupe, I made the following chicken noise before every batter hit: "bwakbwakbwakbwak, bwaaaaakbwakbwakbwakbwak--gobblegobblegobble--mmmm...INSERT NAME OF BATTER HERE.

So we won, perhaps the chicken noises were critical, perhaps not, but whatever the case, we are now en route to NYC--to take on the most evil of all franchises: the New York Soul-Sucking, Cash-Hoarding, Blights-Upon-Humanity. I mean, the New York Yankees.

Though I will not be posting an Enemies post today, I will share the following tidbit. This offseason, the Yankees promised 423 million dollars over the next eight years, to three players. That means that for the price of three players the Yankees could have the entire Twins roster 6.5 times. Yes, 6 Joe Nathans, 6 Justin Morneaus, 6 Cuddys and Kudubels and Cudredes.

As Stinky pointed out last winter, the recent Twilight movie made one thing clear. If Vampires are ridiculously good at baseball because they are better runners, jumpers, throwers and hitters than everyone else since ever--than these three players are most definitely vampires.

Beware them Twins players--beware them!! (And in the spirit of low expectations, we wholly expect that despite the scads of home runs hit by left handed hitters in the New Yankee Stadium, our left handed line-up will not only NOT hit home runs, but will also spend the entire series playing pinocchle and shopping for poodles, leaving our poor pitchers to play every single position--and making them cry--and lose.)

Ze Ubermensch on Balks

Last night mi madre was wringing her hands, sighing, moaning ready to pick up a lamp and hit herself in the head when Jesse Crain came in for not one, but TWO! innings of work.

It seemed that Ze Ubermensch would acquit himself surprisingly well, until Curtis "Crashing-into-Walls-is-my-middle-name" Granderson (his monogrammed towels are pretty big) hit a triple, and then again when C. C. i. W. i. m. m. n. G. feinted to home and caused a balk, which made my mother cover her eyes with her hands. And led to the following conversation in the duggout throughout the middle and the bottom of the fourteenth:

[Twins walk dejectedly into duggout]

Crain: What is that umpire talking about? Balk! What is the meaning of this word? To fail to stop motion prior to delivering a pitch? This is a logical fallacy of the highest order!! [Kubel singles, and Nick Punto quickly runs away from Crain to pinch run] 

What is motion? The action or process of being moved, but moved through what? The rule is needlessly vague. [Span runs away from Crain to bunt Punto to second, and comes back to sit on the duggout steps rather than next to Crain] 

I will grant that motion normally occurs through space, but what of time, what of the eath's rotation. We are all of us moving at all times. To come to a "complete stop" is impossible. [Tolbert dashes up to the plate, and singles home Punto to tie the game. After sliding home Punto crawls back to the duggout to avoid Crain] 

Every second my arms move forward in the slow march of history towards their inevitable death. [Filled with this morbid thought Mauer grounds out then goes to call his mom to hear about happy things] 

And given the earth's rotation, we are each of us moved, perhaps we are only moved millimeters, but we are moved simply by staying upon this rock. [Eager to hit Morneau watches four wide pitches for an intentional walk, but asks for four more just to clear his head of Crain's gobbledegook]

Furthermore. If motion is an action, then the failure to move is also an action. An act of inaction, that therefore negates the totality of "actions" and "motions" [Cross-eyed and bumfuzzled Cuddyer fortunately watches four balls go by to load the bases]

Ultimately, the combination of external forces as well as the self-negating definition of stopping ones motion (which, as I have shown is itself a motion) the previous run should not have scored and we should have already won the game, isn't that right Joe Crede?

[Crede is the only person sitting within 9 feet of Crain, as Carlos Gomez has stuck his head in a Gatorade jug and Delmon Young is warming up for relief, Crede can only nod his head and step to the plate. His brain full of complex thoughts and notions each more complicated than the last, rendering his whole psyche a whirling torrent of the cosmos and infinite meanings of man. Then he sees a curve ball]

Crede: CREDE SMASH!!!!WITH BARBED WIRE BAT!!!!!!!!! CREDE SMASH!!!!

Crede Smash, Crede Smash Indeed.

The Return of Low Expectations

So we've already discovered that the key to winning is low expectations. Last night I realized it is even more helpful when these expectations are not only low but disastrous, and highly specific.

On Friday:
"I know we're up 9-0 but they could still rally!"
And we won.

On Saturday:
We chanted "low expectations!!!" every time we went to check the score on my mini-crackberry.
And we won.

On Sunday:
I assumed everything would be fine.
And we lost.

Yesterday:
Scruffy and I were on the phone just before I went to bed.
SCRUFFY: So did we win yet?
STINKY: Well, Dread Pirate Nathan was pitching. I just turned off my radio but I assume everything's fine.
SCRUFFY: LOW EXPECTATIONS!
STINKY: RIGHT. So... Nathan is pitching, so I assume he exploded in a firey auto wreck when a ford truck bashed through the wall of the Metrodome and ran him down, and all the Tigers ran the bases and we lost a gajillion to nothing.

And we won.

Coincidence? I think not.

So tonight I fully expect the Metrodome to become lost in an alternate universe and the entire Twins starting lineup to be abducted by aliens who want to study them so they can grow sideburns like Joe Mauer. We'll obviously have to forfeit.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Detroit Tigers

Reasons we should compound the miseries of Detroit until it sinks into a gigantic GM sized crater:

1. Surging forces: The Tigers are playing very well lately, womping us a week ago, and then doing the same to the Indians. They sit atop the division, so if we can womp them now...we can seriously lay claim to being the baddest of the badasses. *18 Loathing Points*
2. Random acts of Violence: A year ago we posted our first "on-the-road" blog, from Comerica, lost in the glory of the win was the fact that in the middle of the ninth inning our intrepid reporter had to stand between drunken hooligans and small children, while skulls were being pounded into seats and blood was gushing over steps. For such bizarre violence alone the Tigers must be penalized by the kind, thoughtful, considerate players and fans from the Minnesota Twins. *83 Loathing Points*
3. Kiss: I enjoy a little Detroit Rock City as much as the next man...but when you've become a pitchman for Diet Dr. Pepper with Cherry...you've jumped the shark. *7 Loathing Points*

Reasons we should bailout the Tigers and help them feel good about themselves.

1. We own them: We as American tax payers now own a 1% share of GM stock...which makes us the largest share holders in Detroit's largest company. Which makes us the benefactors of a large portion of Detroit's population, who use the paychecks we give them to buy tickets to Comerica Park, which are in turn used to pay for the salaries of the Tigers. SO! If the Tigers win, America wins...of course if the Tigers lose to the teams we tell them to lose to, America also wins...ahh, the beauties of state owned industries! *-1 Loathing Point*
2. Naming the Lobsters: I've said before, it's harder to loathe a thing once you can connect it to a face and a tangible person. I've had no problem denouncing Manager Jim Leyland and the pitching staff as fools and dunderheads from afar. But in the last two days I took a phone reservation from Justin Verlander, discovered that the man has a pretty good voice, seated half the Tigers coaching staff, and found out that they are all pretty good tippers. Now that I've met them and found out that they are decent human beings it's harder to hate them, and wish their total destruction. Just partial destruction. *-75 Loathing points*
3. Ty Cobb: He's now on the Alternate Universe Twins team, that's how much we like him. The man is a badass, a slightly evil badass, but our beloved badass none the less. *-1 Loathing Point*

Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 31 Points

(-20 Loathing Points from Last Year)

Punishment: Post-game spreads will consist only of Little Ceaser's Pizzas from now on.

Low Expectations...

We bloggers failed to actually be near televisions this weekend, but we repeated a new mantra:

"Low expectations, low expectations". If we don't demand in our minds that the Twins win every game--maybe they will. If we don't expect the bullpen to hold leads--they probably will. If we don't expect Justin and Joe to hit back-to-back home runs every game--it will happen.

Our mantra worked wonderfully well all Friday and Saturday, and seemed to be working Sunday, until the topic in the dugout turned to Mothers Day.

Dr. Cakeburn: I love my mom, she's the one who introduced me to Betty Crocker

Cuddyer: I love my mom, she's the one who made me so adorable.

Princess Mijares: I love my mom, she taught me about magical fantasy worlds, like the one I live in!

Morneau: I love my mom, she's the one who gave me food and made me strong.

Jesse "Ubermensch" Crain: I love my mom, she taught me about the nihilistic overtones of colored blocks in Kindergartens

Mauer: I love my mom, she's the one who gave me my sideburns.

[Pause]

Dr. Cakeburn: My mom's not expecting anything 'cause I'm pitching, I baked a seven-tiered cake, one for every shut out inning I pitch.

Cuddyer, Morneau, and Mauer: Our moms don't expect anything because we're playing today, but we're going to drive in runs with pretty pink bats, then decorate the bats with hearts and hollow them out to hold flowers.

Princess Mijares: Why did you three guys speak in unison?

Cuddyer: I don't know it just seems like what awesome people would do.

Morneau: What are you getting your mom Jose?

Princess Mijares: Ahh, I didn't really have time...so...maybe I'll call or something later. Excuse me while I go pitch [Mijares gets crushed, and returns to the bench, shaken up]

Mauer: You've got to do something for your mom Mijares, isn't that right Ubermensch?

Crain: Actually, I'm sure my mother believes that the capitalist conditioning culture of Hallmark has coopted genuine affection and replaced it with a string of lewd, suggestive cards.

[Pause]

Cakeburn: So...you're not getting her, anything?

Crain: Maybe a few seeds for future flowers or something...Excuse me while I go pitch [Crain is also hammered, and returns to the bench in tears]

Cuddyer: Yeah, guys I don't think that's the right thing to do.

Morneau: Yeah, I'm sure your mothers love you, and while they'd like any gift at all, a special gift would make them super excited.

Brandon Morrow [Seattle Reliever]: Don't listen to them my fellow relievers, Mothers appreciate whatever you give them. I wrote my mother a poem "Uterus/ You Tear Us/ Tears/ Fears/ Little boy crying in Target/ Uterus"--she said it was "really special."

[Silence]

Morrow: Excuse me while I go pitch

[Mauer, Morneau and Cuddyer simply stand there in shocked silence while Morrow throws wildly]

Brendan Harrison: RESPECT MOTHERS DAY JERKWAD!!!!!!!!!!! [Harris swings at a pitch he probably shouldn't and grounds out to end the game]

So this is all a silly way of saying--Mothers are great, and mothers are masters of low expectations, and when you exceed those expectations through love (not bad poetry) everyone's a winner. 

Especially mothers who teach their sons to photoshop.

Happy Mothers Day

Why We're Losing

You know what, I do not like the whole losing thing, particularly when it happens whilst we should be winning. Worse still, I cannot explain why we lost to one of the worst teams in baseball, and now we have to come home to face the flannel-wearing, bongo-patting, disgruntled-poets of the Northwest. Why, why, why?

Fortunately, I'm not the only one asking that question, as our intrepid reporter/pet Merlin discovered in Baltimore.

[After sneaking into the Visiting Locker Room, Merlin's tape recorder captures the following conversation already in progress]

Gardy:--and might I add !^!@#$^^!@#$!!!!

[Silence]

Gardy: C'mon guys...what's the deal?

[Silence]

Morneau: Uh...skip?

Gardy: Yes?

Morneau: Have you ever felt...unloved.

[Silence]

Gardy: Well...no....you see, I'm totally awesome.

Morneau: Well, yeah, obviously but--

Gardy: And you guys are awesome, so what's the problem?

Cuddyer: The fans in Minnesota don't think so...

Gardy: What?

Perkins: The fans in Minnesota can't stop talking about Brett Favre

Blackburn: They don't care about my pitching problems, so why should I fix them?

Crede: They don't care about my hitting problems, so why should I fix them?

Breslow: The only thing they care about is whether or not a 39 year old man can throw a football while wearing purple and gold laundry.

Gomez: I wanna be LOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVEEEEEDDDDDD!!!!!

[Gomez sobs loudly, and buries his head into Fracisco Lirano's chest, receiving comforting pats from the starter while Denard, R.A. Dickey, Luis Ayala and Brian Buscher sniffle and have their lips quiver ever so slightly.]

Gardy: Hey, look guys. I know that it seems like no body cares about you, so there's no point in winning, if there's no one who cares about you. But I'm sure, that somewhere there's a group of people who don't give a flying fish fart about Fah-vray

Delmon: Fervor

Redmond: Faa-ver

Gardy: Whatever, somewhere there's someone concocting a silly blog or something about us all, because, to some people, we are so important that they would ignore civilized conversation with the rest of the entire state, just to have us in our life.

Gomez: For [Sob] True?

Gardy: For true.

Gomez: DOGGIE!!!!! [Chases Merlin from clubhouse, back to St. Paul, and hopefully back to respectable baseball playing]

And now apparently Farve, Faver, Favre--whatever, is going to stay retired--so it's back to the Twins, and all their glory (now, they just need to have some glory).

Sad, yet sensible

ITEM: Alexi Casilla has been sent down to Rochester and replaced by Matt Tolbert.

We here at Peanuts from Heaven Incorporated like Alexi Casilla, we admire his ability to turn the double play, and his penchant for clutch hitting. However, errors we do not like...lack of hustle we do not like...and while we like many things about Alexi, we have never really managed to think of a quality photoshop identity for him. 

So, Alexi, take this as your opportunity to go down to Rochester, remember how to hustle, develop a wacky persona, and we'll see you back here with open arms, and a well warmed up photoshop.

And welcome back Matt Tolbert, now that you are playing for us again--please remember that we are apparently obligated to play games during monsoons. (Do you ever see the guy on the right on the field for us? Come on Major League Baseball--Just because we always lose to Seattle does not make us Sub-Mariners. [pause for laughter--realize that no one will laugh at that--cry in shame])

Up and Down

And just as hope was returning to the land, a tough kid from the wrong side of the tracks turned up, clubbed three hits, made poor Dr. Cakeburn cry and ruined our trip to Detroit. (Then again, it is Detroit--just going there ruins your trip (badum-ching!))

You Miguel Cabrera are a poopy-face, a big, fat, home-run-hitting, poopy-face!!

I hope there are no poopy-faces in Baltimore.

Saving the Day. Like you do.

It was a lovely Monday, only partly-cloudy and 72 degrees Farenheit. Sir Francisco and Sir Cuddy, Master of Supraction, rode through the crsip spring breeze, chatting as they went.

CUDDY: So... why are we riding again?
SISCO: I hear there is a lovely princess trapped in a tower. I mean to rescue her and make her my wife! The Brave Knight sir Denard Span told me she is there.
CUDDY: And ....why so I have to come with you again?
SISCO: I need your help!!! Without your powers of supraction I will never succeed.
CUDDY: OK man but you totally owe me a beer.

[They ride for several hours]

[Several hours later. They arrive at the tower]

SISCO: Hello fair princess! I have come to rescue you!!
[The princess sticks her head out the window but it isn't actually a princess. It's just Jose Mijares]
MIJARES: Oh ... sorry guys... I think I may have misled you.
SISCO: Yeah just a bit.
CUDDY: Haha oh man... this is too awesome.
MIJARES: But wait! Don't go! There are people here who need your help! My friends are being eaten by viscious Tigers, and only you can save them from their dreadful fate. Please, go to them.

And so they did, and together Sir Francisco and Sir Cuddy saved the Minnesota Twins from the viscious Tigers and hope was restored to the land.

I need lunch.

No-NO!!!

You know everything I said yesterday--it's all still true, but it's a little harder to identify now.

I mean, we really should have swept the Royals--except for an error on Alexi and poor hitting by the piranahas after Buscher's 10th inning double yesterday, we would have...and then today...well...I don't quite know how to explain what happened today.

Except perhaps, for this conversation after the 6th inning

Delmon Young: HOT DAMN Cuddy!! This is what it's all about!!

Michael Cuddyer: I know what you mean Del. We're supracting the crap out of them

Delmon: You're hitting.

Michael: You're fielding.

Delmon: They have no idea what the hell is going on!!

[In Unison]: IT'S BEAUTIFUL!!!!

Scotty Baker: Hey guys, what's up?

[In Unison]: Uh....nothing....nothing...

Scotty: C'mon you guys, are you supracting people?

[In Unison]: Uh...maybe...kinda...ya know...

Scotty: That's so cool guys!! Can I supract them now?

Delmon: Uh....

Michael: That's not a real good idea Scotty.

Scotty: No...listen. I'm no-hitting them right?

Delmon: Uh-yeah...that's real good supraction.

Scotty: Pssh--that's not supraction, I'll tell you what would be supractalicious--

Michael: Actually, Delmon's right. A no-hitter is really supractalicious.

Scotty: Guys, wait, here's what I'll do--I've no-hit them for six innings, so now, I'll give up a hit, just to give them a false sense of confidence

Delmon: Uh--I guess...

Scotty: Then I'll give up another!!

Michael: Uh--

Scotty: Then I'll give up a three-run home-run!!!

[In Unison]: Yeah, that's actually not--

Scotty: Waitwaitwaitwait!! Then I'll give up two more hits, and tell Luis Ayala to give up a triple so that we fall behind!!!

[In Unison]: Scotty, Supraction is used to win--

Scotty: THEN! I'll bewitch the Master Librarian to give up three MORE runs!!!

[Silence]

Scotty: That will suprise and distract everyone in Twins Territory!! Think of it guys!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

[Silence]

Scotty: Let's go guys!!! Woohoo--Supraction!!!!!!!!!

Michael: Pitchers should not be allowed to supract anyone.

Delmon: This isn't supraction...this is distrise...

Remember pitchers...supraction is not a toy.

We actually DO like Baseball this much

Last night: at the dome

This afternoon: at the multiplex

Tonight: at home

We have a friend, a fine young man, who once said: "dude, nobody likes baseball that much." As I have said, he's a great guy...but the truth of the matter is, we actually do.

Last night we encountered a gaggle of guys who did not. A quartet of High School boys, sitting in surprisingly good seats, whose most insightful commentary of the evening was something along the lines of: "MORNEAU---YOU'RE A BEAST!!!!!!" (admittedly, the man is huge). By and large they focused on how much they hated the Royals, but about the best the could come up with there was: "Number 11--YOU SUCK!!!" (Seriously guys, seriously? If you're going to jeer--come up with something a little more insightful--such as: "Hey, Ponson, you're are disgrace to the royal knights of the Netherlands--Queen Beatrix must be crying over your weight!!")

Today, fortunately, we bold bloggers attended the film Sugar, wherein fans who mindlessly bellow "you suck"  had their role listed in the final credits as: "Jackass". But beyond absolving us from being "Jackass" fans--we were also challenged by the filmmakers to question whether or not baseball genuinely helps people, or if it serves as merely a distraction.

We decided that, for us, and hopefully for you, it is a beautiful, uplifting, delightful experience. We are excited, amused and entertained by the Twins, yes. We also find hope in their resiliency, strength in their dedication, and humor in their silliness.

Even tonight, as we struggle to do away with the Royals, there's joy to be had in Cuddyer supracting the Kansas Citizens by missing one catch, only to homer the next inning. There's a great challenge to be met in fighting the diabolically chocolate Coco Crisp. There's humility to be felt when Alexi bobbles a routine grounder and we fall behind again. And both tonight and last night, there was great pride to be felt in the return to prominence of our "Great Helmsman and Glorious Leader," Joe Mauer. 

We love it, all of it, the good, the bad, the down right ugly (looking in your direction--Sidney Ponson). There is nothing about any part of this game that "sucks". There is never a need to be a jackass. It entertains, it amuses, it distracts yes, but it also elevates, amazes and surprises.  IT is baseball, and however you feel about it--we actually DO like baseball this much.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Kansas City Royals

(A short notice--because I know you all care--rather than running out of enemies before the all-star break, "Know Thine Enemy" will denounce our foes before they play their first series at the Metrodome--rather than before our first series of the season)

That brings us to this weekend's opponent: The Kansas City Royals

Reasons to cook the Royals' goose in a delicious bayou fricassee

1. Last Season: We would have been in the playoffs last year, we would have had the chance to derail the Rays championship run (and given this week's series, we totally could have done it), all we needed was for the Royals to lose...and they just wouldn't do it. That is what we call being a big fat jerkface. There is only one thing to do with big fat jerkfaces--DESTROY THEM! *40 Loathing Points*
2. Hollywood: There is currently a film about a prestigious team called the Kansas City Knights (Knights/Royals--Get it?). Which begs the question--why must you sell out Kansas City? Why? *18 Loathing Points*
3. Sidney Ponson--A few years ago we brought on Sidney Ponson to pitch, and this was a cause of much consternation for Stinky and I--I mean, how do you make fun of a Dutch knight, particularly such a portly one? Sir Sidney Eats-a-ton? Sidney Fatso-n? It's bad enough he was a bad pitcher, and a fat one, but to be a bad, fat pitcher without an easily mockable name--that's just wrong. *47 Loathing Points*

Reasons to cook the Royals goose into laughable Goose Balls

1. Buck O'Neil--After watching Ken Burn's Baseball Stinky can now attest to the utter greatness, the genius, the ridiculous charm of John Jordan Buck O'Neil. This is the man who smiled through everything, even being turned aside by the hall of fame, and remained, 'till his dying day--A fan of the Kansas City Royals. That's got to count for a little mojo. *-70 Loathing Points*
2. Their turn--Since 2006, each AL Central team has gone to the playoffs, the White Sox, Indians, Tigers and us...each team except for the Royals. We are not a dictatorship, we are all for fair play and shared glory, so, unfortunately, it's the Royals turn to represent our division--of course, they can be the wild card and we can be the division champ. *-11 Loathing Points*

Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 24 Loathing Points

(+4 Loathing Points from Last Year)

Punishment: A super turbo swirly