Imagine, if you will, a typical sight: a demon in pin stripes trotting gamely around a dirt track, smiling broadly in acknowledgement of the nefarious deed they have just committed. We've seen this several dozen times before, it is what usually happens to the Twins in the Bronx. We stand there, frozen like a bunch of Greek demi-gods faced with Medusa, frozen in time and space, wondering what the f* just happened to our awesome team.
But in our imagination there's a different ending. As the lap comes to a conclusion, our catcher, whomever he may be, says: "F-this noise!" and cocks his right arm, then follows through with a massive haymaker, clocking the pinstriped hoser and sending him crumpling to the ground crying out for his mama.
Suddenly the spell is lifted. From 3rd base to Right Field our boys suddenly realize: "hey! These guys aren't deamons or medusa's or anything remotely frightening. They're just smarmy, smug punkasses. If we beat them up we'll take away their power!"
And so, en masse, the Minnesota Twins (in our imagination) grab bats and chase down the team which shall not be named. They throw fastballs at their shin bones and cackle like Yosemite Sam saying: "dance you cotton pickin' varmint, DANCE!!!" They use their bats as cudgels and rampage through the clubhouse swinging their weaponry like marauders of yore. They wage an epic war of brilliance and awesomery and aren't even punished for it because, let's face it, the pinstriped punkasses had it coming, and every baseball fan outside of the Bronx would love to see this happen.
This is our dream--more violent than most, but that's what the Yankees do, they bring out the worst in us (also, I'm taking mefloquine, which doesn't help). It could never happen because our team's just not that violent (I mean, seriously, Cuddy, doing anything that wasn't adorable? Not possible). We just can't stand to see the defeats happen over and over and over again, it's like rewinding Bambi to watch his mom get shot time after time after time.
Today we fully expect that the Twins will be shot, and Ron "Bambi" Gardenhire will be forced to fend for himself in the scary, scary forest. (And the whole world weeps a single tear in sadness)