How about that!

I switched it off, I turned my attentions elsewhere, I could not endure another loss to the Cleveland Indians and their bottom of the table ilk.

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!