Then my father, also known as Mister Poopy Pants (or Senor Poopy Pants depending on whether or not my mother is feeling festive), gave me a call.
"ARE YOU WATCHING THIS?!?" he shouted over the tumultous crowd.
"No," I sheepishly admitted, "not after we fell behind by three runs."
"TWO HOMERS AND A WILD PITCH!!!" He shouted, and sure enough a quick check of the Twins website revealed that we were now, shockingly, ahead. My dad proceeded to recap every at bat, and pitch count--and while I could easily see all of these things via the website, it was more fun somehow to hear him giddily reporting all the wonderful things that had happened.
I have a feeling that, sitting next him there at the dome, my mother smiled at her sagacity.
Go Twins! Go Mom and Dad!