Oooh boy...

I left Minnesota a week ago today..and in the week that I have been gone the Twins went 2-4. (Of course, in the week before that, they went 1-5, so perhaps my presence is irrelevant), but I didn't really feel distant until today.

Yesterday afternoon, Stinky, my co-blogger in arms, and I discussed the probabilty that Joakim Soria was destroying our hopes, stealing all our chocolate and probably communicating with Space Monkeys who would soon begin a bombing campaign of the Twin Cities. That wasn't to bad, but not being there, I wasn't sure that this HAD NOT happened. What's more, today, Stinky packed the last of her desktop curios and bade her office goodbye, and woe is me, I did not have the opportunity to treat her to food, drink or, best of all, a ball game.

Moreover, when I stepped out for groceries today--wearing my official Peanuts From Heaven "Yankees Suck...because they are vampires" shirt--I realized that I would now be eternally in the minority of fans, here, surrounded by thousands of Indians fans, series like this weekend's will register somewhere between awkward and intolerable on my public interactions meter.

After finally finding the one store in all of Bowling Green which sells scotch, I discovered that the owner liked my shirt...but not my team. A stocky man with lanky, gray hair and a bushy mustache, he chortled happily and told me where I stood. His employees were Indians fans. He himself was a Tigers fan. I was just a guy with a bottle of scotch and a team who can't seem to comeback from any deficit...ever.

I came home, made dinner, and sat down to watch the game, but forgot that I am an hour ahead of the Twins Cities which gave me an extra hour to kill. And when it was finally ready to go...MLB.TV. said since I lived within a few hundred miles of Cleveland, I could not watch this game.

So...it's Joe Gordon and Danny Gladden, it's salmon in a dijon glaze instead of a dome dog, it's a sweaty, heavy night in Bowling Green rather than a sweaty heavy night in Minneapolis, and I'm alone rather than shoulder to shoulder with the best blogger I know.

However, as my purveyor of scotch informed me: "Ahhhhh...it'll be okay! You're pitchers are a little shaky. Hey! Last year...the Tigers sucked...now look at us!! Next year...could be you guys in the World Series."

Thank you, Mr. Scotch Man....thank you. (Let's hope there's still some joy to be had this year, wherever I am, and however the Twins play)

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