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.