But without doubt the highlight of the game (or the recaps anyway) was the fact that the box score included this little beauty: Cuddyer 2b.
Michael Cuddyer played second base...or in honor of the adorableness that is our big right fielder playing a position normally manned by individuals who look much more like hobbits than he does. Anything that shows off Michael Cuddyer's coolness is normally rewarded with a glowing paean on this blog, but today that homage is tempered with a little anxiety.
You see...I, Scruffy, have come to love Orlando Hudson, against my better judgement. You see, I know that O-Dog is awesome, that he's hitting over 300, that he's setting the table for Mauer and Morneau, that he's helped stabilize the defense and may have played some role in helping Delmon Young overcome his fear of pop flies (They aren't actually exploding insects, like Delmon originally thought). But as awesome as it is that Orlando does all those things, he also talks...a lot...even when it seems like no one wants to hear what he's saying. As many of my friends will no doubt confirm, I often do the same thing.
So in short, I feel like Orlando Hudson is my brother in bombast. And as cool as it is that Nick Punto and Michael Cuddyer hatched a secret plan on the team flight to put Cuddy at 2nd Base, that coolness is tempered by the boiling tea kettle of anxiety I feel when O-dog isn't on the field, because if O-dog isn't out there, then what's to stop our team from behaving normally and thus becoming (shudder) just another baseball team.
Perhaps I'm exaggerating the gravity of this sitaution (wouldn't be the first time). But at the very least I just want to say: "Get well soon Orlando Hudson" and if you need anyone to talk to...well..you know where to find me.