Lowest Expectations--and yet...

Okay--playing the low expectations game: We will not win again this season. All of our pitchers will develop leprosy, and have their arms fall off. Delmon Young's dismay at finally getting into the hitter's club only to discover that no one is there any more will result in a record number of tears shed in the dugout. And Gardy will suddenly discover Zen and the Art of Baseball Managing and not get kicked out again this season.

(Sad to say, I half believe the first one's going to happen)

Here we are...after losing more than we won on a home stand against the divisional bottom feeders, sitting well out of first place and playoff contention, all glimmers of hope fading away, and nothing, absolutely NOTHING seems to be going right for us any more.

The temptation here is to think of another way to pass the time, one which won't break our hearts each and every night, one that will uplift us and nurture us in a way we crazed bugs and cranks have come to expect from baseball. Perhaps pottery, or oriental gardening...


Think of the faithful my friends. Think of the loyal souls at honestwagner.blogspot.com, who have endured losing season after losing season. Think of the old guy with the bottles of scotch here in Bowling Green who saw his beloved Tigers sulk their way to last place a year ago only to reemerge triumphant this year. And when all else fails, think of my old beloved Speech coach--Elizabeth Dillow--who lives and dies with the Cleveland Indians and literally lives in Washington DC's metro area. This means that she is "struggling to open the sports section this summer for all the doom and gloom glaring at me every morning." (her words, not mine)

We will not falter, we will not look askance, we will lower our expectations and pray for an absence of leprosy, we will be here, each and every day, with humorous observations, comical anecdotes, memories, wishes, imaginary conversations, an intrepid, undercover, canine reporter. And regardless of how this season ends--even if it is 45 straight losses and a Yankees championship--we will be here every step of the way, rooting, laughing, and loving the Twins.

We will be here till the (likely bitter) end. And we will be glad to see you when you stop by.

The Peanuts from Heaven

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