Wha Happened #10 (@ Marlins, V.s. Royals, Yankees + Vacation)

We Peanuts will be on vacation in Merry-Old England and Crabby-Old Scotland for the next two weeks.

Game 75
Marlins 4 - Twins 2
After being welcomed to Miami by Will Smith the Twins spend the next day in a haze of scantily clad women and mildly mischievous lyrics, leaving them unable to concentrate at Marlins Park.

Will Smith - Miami from moezechief on Vimeo.

Game 76
Marlins 5 - Twins 3
The Twins have a good deal of early success against Miami's starter in the first inning, they run into trouble against Kevin "Killthrow" Slowey, who savored the opportunity to best the team that let him go. Elsewhere "Dr. Cakeburn" Nick Blackburn, and Boof Bonser plotted their revenges as part of the Legion of Pitching Doom.

Game 77
Twins 3 - Royals 1
The Twins had a lead, but it all looked like it would be for not as the Royals started to find their swing...and that's when Samuel Deduno turned his whole persona up a notch.

"Yo Moustakas, what's greek for better than you: DEDUNO!! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"You know David...your name makes me think...but your swing makes me Lough! HAHAHAHA!! Am I right Bros, am I right?...I'm right."
"Oh, and Eliot Johnson, is it? Say hello to my little friend...his name's Pedro Florimon: KA BOOM!!"

Such was the bro-i-tude of Samuel De-Dude-Bro. It may be obnoxious, but it's in our interest.

Game 78
Royals 9 - Twins 3
Following the previous nights victory, Chairman Joe Mauer (he whose sideburns prompt the moss to grow on trees and whose knees bend into a crouch as the corn stalks droop with their bounty) announced that he would forgo getting hits throughout the series as a sign of his generosity to Kansas City.

"You know, umm...they've had a hard time lately, but ahhh...you know I think they'd really appreciate a little support in their time of need and you know....ummm...hopefully this reminds them that their bourgeois monarchy is a paltry shadow of its former greatness and that they would be better served in a Twins-Territory style dictatorsh--I mean democracy........ya know"

It did not work.

Game 79
Twins 6 - Royals 2
It was a big night as Twins' blogosphere's favorite pitching prospect--Kyle Gibson--made his debut as Kyle Gibson in Kyle Gibson's Twins Debut: Starring Kyle Gibson!! Fortunately Kyle Gibson perfectly embodied the Kyle Gibson-ness of Kyle Gibson by Kyle Gibsoning the Kyle Gibson all over the Kyle Gibson.

Also the Twins won.

Plus! Kyle Gibson

Game 80
Royals 9 - Twins 8
Once upon a time (back in a dark and gloomy age I like to call: 2011) The Twins were prone to face difficult situations and crawl into a little cave of sadness and despair. If they were going to lose it seemed, they might as well lose with their eyes clenched shut and walked real slow and dreamt about an offseason trip to St. Barths.

Sunday, the writing was on the wall. The Twins had a lead and lost it. Every time the Twins got close the Royals came back...but instead of going to their cave of sadness and despair, the Twins kept trying. Showing that even in the face of defeat, they insist on putting forward their best effort.

But they lost. And across the plain those who refuse to enjoy anything shouted: STUPID TWINS! Trying's for chumps!!

Game 81
Yankees 10 - Twins 4
Stupid Yankees.

With the Twins clinging to a one run lead in the 8th Jared Burton entered and then this happened to every Twins fan, Gardy and Burton himself

Also: Stupid Yankees.

Game 82
Yankees 7 - Twins 3
Damn Yankees.

For many years now we have subscribed to the belief that the Yankees are secretly Vampires who leech off of easily duped New York Fans, depriving them of money, human decency and blood to fund the expansion of their empire by turning good baseball players into vampires (and as a result, great baseball players).

You may scoff, but which is more likely: one team making all the right moves for 100 years, or the existence of vampires? (Admit it, it's vampires)

With the injuries and debilitations that have knocked many of the most prestigious Yankpires (your Jeters/A-Rods/Texerias/Grandersons) the Yankees owner-who-shall-not-be-named opted to sign a slew of players, and turn them all into vampires. So it's less like fighting off a single diabolical count (as in Dracula), and more like fighting off a horde of them (as in Underworld or Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

So it was that the Twins succumbed to the death by a thousand-piddly-Yankpire-nibbles

Also: Damn Yankees.

Game 83
Yankees 3 - Twins 2
Seriously, Yankees? Seriously?

You know it's not a good sign when the entire row of people your sitting with gets a little anxious in the fifth (when PJ Walters starts to get hit hard by the bottom of the order).

It's worse when the row of people goes "what's he still doing out there" at the beginning of the sixth.

And it's the worst when there are quickly two men on, first base open and Robinson "I Eat Twins Pitching for Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner and my Tea Time Snack" Cano at the plate...and your faltering pitcher throws to him. (Because that's the moment the entire section of people you're sitting with puts their heads down and just waits for the inevitable boom)

Ballpark Food Haiku

Kramarczek's bratwurst

Plopping mustard, sauerkraut

Out of syllables

Also: SERIOUSLY?

Game 84
Yankees 9 - Twins 5
Oh...god...[sighs, shakes head]...Yankees.

After the first three games, the Twins set slightly lower expectations for their July 4th matinee against the Bronx bombers.
*Objective 1: Kyle Gibson retires future hall of gamer Ichiro Suzuki 1 time! (DONE!!--after two hits and a run...but still...HE DID IT!!)
*Objective 2: Avoid squandering bases loaded opportunities (DONE!!--We only squandered opportunities with two runners on! YAY!)
*Objective 3: Deliver elbow pounds to Justin Morneau (HUZZAH...there was even a reason for doing it!)

Meanwhile, in an alternate reality, our founding fathers set similarly low expectations for their July 4th matinee 237 years ago.
*Objective 1: Declare a couple of ideas to sort of be kind of interesting.
*Objective 2: Address the tyrannical reign of King George the III by passive aggressively not signing or including any kind of personal message inside Ye Olde Hallmarke Carde.
*Objective 3: Only let Ben Franklin drink 13 pints of ale, instead of his customary 15.
...of course in that alternate reality the Minnesota Twins lost their Major League Cricket game to the New York Georges 720 to 15 (but Justin Morneau did hit two sixes...so that was nice...)

Ballpark Food Haiku

Sweet and tangy Pork

Deep Fried Pie and a Ginger

Tastes like freedom, natch.

Finally: SERIOUSLY?!? I mean....SERIOUSLY!?

Mr Peanut: TIE! Justin Morneau and Caleb Theilbar! (One's back in form, the other's never lost it!)
Nutty Buddy: Jared Burton (Come on beardy...let's get it going)

Rooting for Nick and Tsuyoshi

(Apologies for the gap between posts, school is coming quickly and I'll be splitting time between writing lesson plans and writing baseball blogs...probably a little more time on lesson plans)

Poor Tsuyoshi...

Clearly things have changed in the Twins dugout of late, much to the glee of many fans (not to mention the blogging community). Nick Blackburn is gone and it will take some finagling to get him back up again, experience be damned. Gone too is every last drop of hopeful expectation around Tsuyoshi Nishioka, former Nippon League batting champ and hoped for shortstop salvation.

The clear take away here is that these two elements of the Twins system weren't working and now (later than some might like) they are being removed. Many other, wiser bloggers can delve into the statistical benefits of chucking Blackburn's starts or offering Nishioka's opportunities to another, worthier prospect.

The less apparent take away is that, even with this move, Twins fans are still frustrated. Even with two disliked players off the roster, the belief is that the move didn't happen fast enough. Forum posts on Nick Blackburn seem to assume he's personally responsible for all of the Twins pitching's miseries, as well as NBC's poor Olympic coverage and those irritating Health Care Debate advertisements. Tsuyoshi Nishioka seems to be viewed as part underachiever, part natural disaster (though its unlikely a telethon can help Twins fans at this point). Since there are no stats to explore here, that makes it just my cup of tea.

For me, Blackburn and Nishioka are more than just sacrificial lambs to the roster/blogosphere slaughter. They are men who have gone from mighty success to something resembling total disaster. Something that, people who aren't ballplayers can still relate to.


Imagine going through a rough spell at your job, and having your bosses demote you down to being the office gofer. Worse than that, you find out you only became the gofer, is because your bosses couldn't get any other company in town to hire you away from them. Nobody wants you. Everybody knows that nobody wants you. And now you have to start proving yourself all over again. It's the kind of professional debacle you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. So why are we so insistent that Blackburn and Nishioka deserve it?

Dr. Cakeburn, in better days

I won't deny that both played poorly enough to make dyed in the wool optimists like me cringe. And yet, I can't savor any part of their being culled from the big league roster. To me they are just as much the promising young talents that had me practicing Japanese phrases for "tater tot hotdish" and photoshopping diabolical baked goods into game photos to elevate their stature. For me, they are professionals confronting a question of career viability.

And as news breaks that two marginal big leaguers (Melky Cabrera and Bartolo Colon) used steroids to keep their similarly struggling careers afloat, I'm proud that neither Blackburn nor Nishioka pursued a chemical solution to their problems. I can't gloat in potential replacements or boast of "I told you so's" to Terry Ryan. I just hope that Blackburn and Nishioka find a way to either solve their problems on the field or else move on to a better life off it.Unpopular as it might be: I'm rooting for Nick and Tsuyoshi.

Dr. Cakeburn's Delicious Arsenal

At some point, in the long ago archives of this blog, Stinky and I decided that Nick Blackburn was the Twins pitcher with enough determination and pitching savvy to not only win ballgames but to accomplish these feats using baked goods. Last night, in our dark and dreary hour of need Dr. Cakeburn once again came to deliver a much needed complete game victory. How did he do it? Through his delectable arsenal of pitches of course! Here now, the Dr. Cakeburn display case of pitches.

Chocolate Fondant Fastball (with liquid center and raspberry seams)--Chocolate is delicious, melting chocolate is extra delicious, chocolate + melting chocolate + raspberries = most delicious and dangerous fastball ever.

Zebra Cake Sinker (See image of Blackburn at top of post)--a little junky, chock-full-o-preservatives--but impossible for hitters not to lunge at.

Chewy Chunky Change-up Cookie--A classic that appeals to everyone (has unfortunate side effect of getting smacked out of the ballpark, as in Miguel Olivo's homerun last night)

Rhubarb Crumble Curveball--If you've ever tried to eat rhubarb crumble with a straw you have some idea of how hard it is to hit this pitch when it's working right.

(Side note: Why did I try to eat rhubarb crumble with a straw?)

The "Can-of-Whoop(ie)-Ass Pie" aka Slider--A little whimsical, a little badass, all delicious.

Dr. Cakeburn used all these pitches (except the Chewy cookie) to great effect last night and in the process beat Doug Fister; whom he had "hooked-up" with last season. (We assume that Bert meant this in a totally non-suggestive way...but it sure seemed like there was an awkward tension while both were warming up in the bullpen, and I swear I saw Blackie tell Fister "I never wrote because I thought you'd never write back.")

Seriously though, congrats to Nick Blackburn and the rest of the boys on a much needed win; especially with Blackburn's house and home perilously close to the most recent outbreak of tornadoes in Oklahoma. You're a fine man Nick Blackburn, an excellent pitcher and one heck of a diabolical genius/baker.

Dr. Cakeburn Rises Again! (A silly short story)

Last week, when Kevin Slowey left the rotation a cry rose up from the panicked citizens of Twinnesota: "WHO SHALL SAVE OUR ROTATION FROM IT'S DARKEST HOUR!?!?" The situation was dire. We could hear our rivals in the Kingdom of the Pale Hosers cackling with glee as our resurgent Slo-Slo suffered a painful set back. We needed a hero, someone to step up and rescue us before a bad situation got worse.

The General Magistrate of Twinnesota (Bill Smith) conferred with the wise little Garden Gnome. "Shall we trade our livestock?" mused Smith "Perhaps the bear cubs might give us a hero if we send them a dozen cows, seven pigs and a sheep to be named later."

"Nay," said the Gnome, "it shall not be"

"Can anyone in our pen of bulls help, just as Sir Duensing has done?"

"Nay," said the Gnome, "it shall not be"

"Swarzak?" quacked a hopeful duck in the corner. (No one listened to him)

"We shall call on the Doctor," said the Gnome with a smile. "Yes," grinned the Magistrate, "the nefarious doctor!"

And so it was announced to the people: The Nefarious Dr. Cakeburn, he who had been cursed and vilified and banished for crimes against the ERA, would return to Twinnesota.

And there was much gnashing of teeth and rending of garments and tearing of hair and burning of effigies and eating of cheese curds. "HE STINKS!" cried the citizens. "HE SUCKS!!! DRESS HIM UP AS A SHEEP AND SEND HIM TO THE BEAR CUBS!!!" (This had been their cry for many months before, and it was their cry again.)

But the Dr. Cakeburn was a changed man, a man with a new cupcake at home that needed to be cared for, and so he reapplied his mastery of pitching and baking to the needs of his friends in

Twinnesota. He tried to implement psychology to his advantage. To know what his rivals feared and exploit it. Tasked with besting the Seatilians, he remembered that Mariners (especially

Ancient ones) would run in terror from an albatross cake (or so said his literature teacher). So first went the cake, next came the fear, and finally came the pitches like so many divebombing albatrii...albatrosses...something.

And thus did Dr. Cakeburn regain his former glory to much cheering and hooting from the Twinnesotans who had only moments ago called him many dirty things, and who will likely do it again when next he struggles...but Dr. Cakeburn does not care, he will fight for Twinnesota all the same. He may not be the hero we want, but he is the hero we need.

P.s. Seriously, congrats to Nick Blackburn on starting a new family (and the win too...but I'm guessing the family's a little more important)

Reunited and it feels SO GOOD

Have I mentioned lately how excited I am to be back in Minnesota? Picture a small child hearing the first ice cream truck chime of the summer, and then discovering that in addition to ice cream, they also sell lemonade, cookies, puppies, unicorns and laser vision robots...ahh...to hell with selling they're just giving them away! I'm that excited.

Add to this the fact that Stinky's almost done with her exams and that school is over for me and that we have a beautiful magical summer ahead of us full of sunshine and baseball and (hopefully) laser vision robots.

Unfortunately, some internet issues waylaid our post on the Baltimore series, which is probably a good thing given that our posts after the first two games would have been more or less saying: "The orioles...I mean the--the orioles! We have to--THE ORIOLES?!?!? Maybe we're just--JEEZE the ORIOLES?!?!" but after an offensive explosion Saturday Night and yesterday's mother's day victory we're proud to welcome back a beloved character, Dr. Nicholas Cakeburn.

We will be back with a vengeance throughout the next week as I go to my first game at Target Field, we attempt to bury the dirty dirty White Sox, and then we head off to the den of villainy in our yearly battle with the foul Yankpires

JJ Hardy and the Mystery of The Tiggers

Want to know why I'm so excited to come back to Minnesota?

1--There are people I love there

2--There is a pretty new ballpark I've not yet seen

3--Living in the black hole of Northwest Ohio has deprived me of watching the last 8 games in a row on MLB.tv, driving me closer and closer to the brink of insanity. Add to this the fact that after tearing my hair out over an extremely tense episode of LOST I came home to find that a thin lead had shrunk and shrunk until at the very moment I turn on Jon Gordon and Danny Gladden Brennan Boesch hit the ball very very far. And, being the good Minnesota Twins fan I am, I began to despair.

But no one told a particular short stop/mystery enthusiast, one JJ Hardy--BASEBALL BOY DETECTIVE! In the latest installment of his popular series: "JJ Hardy and the Mystery of the Tiggers"--The climactic excerpt is quoted here

Chapter 9

...With a crash, the peace of the deep dark night in Targetville was shattered and JJ Hardy, baseball boy detective, knew that he would have to act fast to solve this mystery.

"Hmmm," said JJ, "I better act fast in order to solve this mystery! I'd hate it if Dr. Cakeburn's Red Velvet Laboratory were ruined by these messy messy Tiggers. After all, like Gardy always says, a clean Laboratory is a SAFE laboratory!!"

Just then, Detroit catcher Alex Avila kaboing-ga-boinged his way to second base with a double while singing the Tiger theme song. which gave JJ an idea.

"HEY! I have an idea!" said JJ. "Tiggers are bouncy, trouncy, pouncy, flouncy and quite a bit of fun, but the most wonderful thing about tiggers, is that they're the only ones! So if I behave like a Tigger...they won't know what's happening!! I may need to get messy, I hope Gardy forgives me."

And so when Ramon Santiago hit a grounder loaded with vim and with vigor, JJ flung himself after the ball, and, doing his best Tigger impression bounced up to surprise Alex Avila and catch him off guard near third base causing Little Nicky Punto to yell: "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY TIGGERS ARE FUN!!!"

Nick may have been right, but JJ still had work to do, to solve the mystery of the Tiggers he'd have to keep thinking like a Tigger until the game was over. And so when he came to bat he hit a jumpy bumpy ball to left center field and ran his clumpy thumpy way to third base. And poised on top of third base he sang out the magical words sure to solve the mystery.

"Boy this sure has been fun fun fun fun and so forth, but the most wonderful thing about Tiggers is I'M the only one...YES I'm the only ONE!!!!"

It's not a good idea, dear child, to ever intentionally exacerbate another person, but for the sake of Targetville, for the safety of Dr. Cakeburn's Baking Laboratory and for Twins fans everywhere it was a good thing that JJ irritated the Tiger's pitcher. Because that led to the pitcher, through big salty tears to cry out, "nu-uh!!!!" and throw a slider whose top was made out of rubber and whose bottom was made out of springs to go bouncy flouncy past the catcher and allow JJ and all the Twins to snatch victory from the Jaws of defeat and solve the mystery of the Tiggers.

THE END

P.s. Before the game tonight came news that Ernie Harwell, former Tiger's announcer had passed away. The last in a line of legendary announcers, his poetry unites all fans, not just those who agree with him. He will be missed

More deep breaths

Went to sports bar last night, watched White Sox dismantle Tigers, watched Twins put up a 10 run lead...

Came home from sports bar, found that Royals had scored two, then three, then two more...MLB.tv refused to let me watch it happen--much fear and trembling anxiety.

Yet we won, Tigers lost and now we are in the same place we have been thrice in three weeks (a game back)--Haven't been any closer than this....pressure is on, and we'll see the result in a few hours (whether or not my heart can stand much more tension...that's debatable)

Cy Grienke v. Nick Blackburn--If ever the Twins have needed the nefarious Dr. Cakeburn--they need him now.

P.s. Delmon hit a grand slam and won us the game....Delmon....Delmon Young....yes, THAT Delmon Young...Let us all send him rainbows and puppy dogs and casserole kisses for his new found talent--GO DELMON, GO!

Tonight's Philosophical Query

While Stinky is in Montana (where the buffalo roam, the deer and the antelope play, and seldom is heard a word about the Twins), I will continue our blogs with a journey out to the bullpen where amusing conversations are always in season. (They are also in season on the TV--since I can only watch the home team broadcast via MLB.Tv I was just treated to the Rangers trying to identify which player had been substituted in the 4th--"Punto's out...no wait, he's a short, so Harris is out...no, wait, he's at third and Crede's out...no wait, that is Crede, Harris is out...Oh hey, look, Morneau's out and Harris is at first!!" I half expected Morneau to be in left field, Delmon to be on the mound, and Waldo to be behind the plate)

Take for instance the philosophical musings of this ponderance: "Since the all-star break, the Twins are 9-2 when they get a quality start, and only 2-15 when they do not." Since Arlington Texas is a complete cultural void, this is the kind of thing that demands our pitching staff's complete attention.

UBERMENSCH: This may be true, but it demands that we consider what truly is a quality start?

DREAD PIRATE JOE NATHAN: ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!! [Subtitle: "6 innings pitched, 3 or fewer runs allowed"]

UBERMENSCH: Perhaps in the literal sense, my friend the most dreaded of pirates, but what about the figurative, emotive and symbolic senses? It is a feeble mind that considers quality on a superficial level of numbers and statistics.

CAKEBURN: Yeah, I mean, what about deliciousness of starts?

UBERMENSCH: Exactly, Nicholas! The inherent delectability or scrumdidliumptiousissitude of a pitchers performance should have as much of an influence on the outcome of the game as the statistics of "runs/hits allowed."

PERKINS: And what about really wanting to win?

UBERMENSCH: Well spotted Glenneth! If we consider personal truth to be the equivalent of physical truth, then the intense personal desire that an individual has should be the same--if not greater--than the reality of an individual's performance!

BAKER: What about adorability while giving up hits?

UBERMSENCH: Again...insightful Scottford! For, as our dear departed RA Dickey might quote: "beauty is truth, truth beauty" and, as such, we should appreciate the power and might that beauty hath wrought in our world and pay homage to it accordingly by awarding victories to the best looking of all.

SWARZAK: SWARZAK!!

UBERMESNCH: Right you are my, Duckish friend! Our very identities are unchanged, we remain named just as we always have been, we remain as comical as we always have been, and--since we have, heretofore, been excellent pitchers--we should remain excellent, winning pitchers.

DREAD PIRATE JOE NATHAN: Gar! [Subtitle: You keep saying "should": "should have as much influence", "should be the same, "should appreciate", "should remain excellent"--Yeah, all these things "should happen" BUT THEY AREN'T!!!!! We have to pitch better!!!]

UBERMENSCH: [Stroking his chin thoughtfully] Hmmm....yes...good analysis Joseph--what do you think Francisco?

CISCO KID: I think I just gave up 7 runs in 2 innings, and we lost again.

UBERMENSCH: Yes...but...what should have happened?

Weaving a spell

I have come to a conclusion. All the pain. All the suffering. All the terrible horrible no good very bad things that happen to us because of the New York Yankees are a result of fear, or as my co-blogger's mother put it recently: "some kind of magic spell"

I teach literature, so I know that the only really powerful spell is story telling, so I am left to assume that what happened was this:

The starting pitchers (and the sometimes starting pitchers) gathered together for a slumber party at the Metrodome. There was Scott Baker and Glen Perkins, and Cakeburn, and Killthrow and The Cisco Kid and the Master Librarian and Anthony Swarzak. And they played and braided each other's hair and ate popcorn and read teen idol magazines and laughed, laughed, laughed some more.

Then, before it was time for Uncle Gardy the Garden Gnome to tuck them into bed, the mean older brother came back. The brother who smelled of smoking and Southern Comfort/Fanta and evil. KYLE LOSHE.

LOSHE: "Wuzzup, suck 'tards!"

BAKER: "Kyle, you're not supposed to be here! This is our party and our fun-time!"

OTHERS: "Yeah!!"

LOSHE: [picking at the paint on the door jamb, trying to look unconcerned] "Sure, fine, whatever...I just thought I'd see y'all one last time before the Yankpires destroyed you."

OTHERS: "Yankpires?"

PERKINS: "What are they?"

LOSHE: "Yankpires? Oh, nothin'...just the most EVIL THING IN THE WORLD!!!"

OTHERS: "Gasp!"

LOSHE: "Yankpires are Yankee Vampires. They run faster than anyone else, they jump higher than anyone else, they hit the ball harder than anyone else."

DICKEY: "Wait, I'm sorry, who says that?"

LOSHE: "I READ IT IN A BOOK, TARDFACE!! Anyway. Their line-up used to have a man who would eat only hot dogs, pigeon heads and drink root beer mixed with human blood and he would turn that into home runs?"

OTHERS: "GASP!"

DICKEY: "Used to--how long ago?"

LOSHE: "80 years ago NUMBNUTS! BUT HIS GHOST IS STILL THERE!!"

DICKEY: "Vampires can become ghosts? That's not consistent with Stoker's original text, Van Helsing says--"

LOSHE: [PUNCH] "SAME THING'LL HAPPEN TO YOU IF YOU INTERRUPT ME AGAIN! Anyway, The Yankpires don't feel pain, the Yankpires will eat your fastballs for breakfast, your change-ups for lunch and your face for dinner!!"

OTHERS: "whimper"

LOSHE: "It's a shame y'all have to die so bad and everything...it's a shame nobody understands Yankpires like I do. They're misunderstood and I just wish I could lie in a meadow with them, just staring into eachothers eyes as their bodies sparkle in the sunlight..."

DICKEY: "Shouldn't they die in sunli--"

LOSHE: [PUNCH] "SHUT UP!!!!! Anyway...if y'all know what's good for ya, you won't even put up a fight. You'll just run away...like the stupid little NUMBSUCKFACES you are, later...uh....uh...you...uh....THINGS!!!!"

[Loshe leaves but, all the other pitchers look panicked, they murmur scary somethings to eachother]

BAKER: "I hear if a Yankpire spikes you, you become one of them!"

LIRIANO: "I hear if a Yankpire hits a home run off of you burst into a thousand pieces."

SLOWEY: "I hear that if the Yankpires beat you, they take your powers!"

CAKEBURN: "I hear that the only cake that can defeat a Yankpire is a Garlic Forest Cake in the shape of a cross!"

SWARZAK: "SWARZAK!!!"

PERKINS: "I don't feel so good..." [Perkins vomits, then faints]

Just then Gardy came in to say goodnight

GARDY: "Okay boys, time to say good night I--[he surveys the scene]--my goodness! What have you boys been up to?"

BAKER: "Kyle came in--"

LIRIANO: "Even though we told him not to--"

SLOWEY: "And he told us about Yankpires--"

CAKEBURN: "And how dangerous they are--"

DICKEY: "And then Glen vomited and fainted and--"

SWARZAK: "SWARZAK!"

GARDY: "Shhh, shhh, shhh, shhh....calm down boys. Okay, first, Kyle is a tool. Second, Yankpires are real [whimper of fear] but if you are strong of mind and body and if you channel your energies towards cooler things than vampires, things will be okay..."

DICKEY: "Cooler things like what?"

GARDY: "You know...anything that's even semi-decently written: Louis L'amour novels, Superhero comics, supervillain comics, Donald Duck cartoons, stuff about Ninjas and Pirates and Zombies and Werewolves...stuff like that."

DICKEY: "And Victorian Drawing Room FARCES!?!"

GARDY: "Uh...yeah...sure..."

DICKEY: "YYYAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY! G'night!!"

GARDY: "Goodnight boys, good night."

And Gardy left--but he forgot the most important thing about Slumber Parties--after the parent leaves, you must remain chattering for at least three hours. This combination of poor sleep, fear, and vomiting has lead to our defeats. We only hope that we can overcome the evil spell of the Yankpires today...and maybe that we can punch Kyle Loshe in the face.

The bad, the good, and the beautiful

First, our apologies to Adam "Opie" Everett, who joined the Twins last year with hopes of rediscovering his once promising talent. It did not happen, and we said goodbye to him at season's end. But he was totally adorable, so his periodic errors and poor hitting this series was at once familiar, helpful and a little sad.

Second, our gratitude to the Nefarious Dr. Cakeburn, also known as Nick Blackburn, who rebounded nicely from his hard luck losses in Milwaukee and Kansas City with another complete game. He looked very good in deed and we would call him our best pitcher, but whenever we give a pitcher that title he suddenly gets hurt--so we'll simply say thanks to you, you diabolical pitching genius who loves cake so much he uses it to destroy his opponents: Thanks a lot.

Finally, we would like to welcome back the badass version of Justin Morneau. That .318 batting average is great, but not quite Mauer-esque. That superb defense is wonderful, but not quite Crede-rian. And for that brief period in early June when Jason Kubel was hitting homeruns, but Justin wasn't it was hard to get into the go-go Morneau mood.

Still, we here at Peanuts from Heaven have always been supporters of Justin's...particularly my co-blogger Stinky who has always had a fondness for Mr. Morneau...particularly his backside. This was why we were very glad to see him finally homer again in St. Louis last week, then do it again the next night in Kansas City, then do it again yesterday at the Dome, and then do it again today in the magical, 6th inning which included Opie's error.

He's big, he's buff, he's brawny.

Ladies, start your drooling.

Victory! and some other stuff

It was a sunny, slightly humid afternoon in Minneapolis. It was that blissful time of summer, after the ice had finished thawing and before the mosquitoes emerged in droves to mangle the unsuspecting folk.

Nick Blackburn was preparing to pitch the final game againts the Pittsburgh Pirates. It was only minutes before he must transform into the wily Dr. Cakeburn, hero of the land, pitcher of awesomeness and lover of cake. Being crafty and somewhat nefarious, Blackburn knew that the pirates would leave no stone unturned, no cannon unfired, no swash unbuckled, until they had returned home with all of the booty Carlos Gomez was hording in his paper nest in the locker room.

He needed to send them home defeated - but how?

"Well," offered fellow superhero and master of supraction Michael Cuddyer, "The best way to victory is to do something both surprising and distracting. Something so unexpected they'll never know what hit them."

"...Like pitch an entire shutout game?" inquired Blackburn/Cakeburn.

"...Yes..." Cuddy mused for a moment, his dimples fading momentarily as he stared mistily off into the distance. "In fact.. it may be the only way."

"You know," said Blackburn/Cakeburn. "It's really hard to take you seriously when you're wearing teddy bear pajamas." But he paused, thinking about what Cuddy had said. "I've never accomplished such a feat."

"Ah," said wise old Mike Redmond, shuffling into the locker room. "Few have...few have. I have seen only a few in my time. But I've heard the stories..."

"I like stories!" squeaked Carlos Gomez.

"Dude just go, um play in your nest for a while," Cakeburn instructed the wild-eyed outfielder. "This story is for me. You'll listen if you know what's good for you - especially if you want to keep all those hotel shampoo bottles you have stockpiled in your special corner." Gomez grew silent.

"I've heard that those who pitch entire shutout games are rewarded with their heart's desire," Redmond continued.

"Like cake??"

"...sure like cake. Why not cake? But I mean, it's just a story."

But Blackburn had already started dreaming of rooms piled high with every kind of cake imagineable. Cake, as far as the eye could see, and the smiling face of GoGo when he realized it was Cakeburn who had saved his treasure from the attacking Pirates.

"OK," said Cakeburn. "I'll do it!"

And he did. Almost. He gave up that one run in the 9th but it was so close that the baseball gods decided to give him cake anyways.


I'm also pretty sure that Adam Laroche actually belongs in Minnesota or possibly Wisconsin. I have a lot of co-workers who go hunting in Wisconsin on the weekends - they are DUDES. Adam LaRoche is also a DUDE. This video, sent to me by south-fl-steel at Honest Wagner, pretty much proves my point.

The best part....

of our win last night was (in addition to Mr. Morneau's home run and my co-blogger's aura of goodness and light in my place of employ) was watching the vaunted Red Sox line-up strike out and then whine about striking out.

Intrepid reporter Merlin overheard the following conversation in the Red Sox dugout after both MVP Dustin Pedroia and MVG (most vile goatee) Kevin Youkilis finished their warmups prior to the first inning.

Pedroia: I hear from Ozzie Guillen that this pitcher sucks!

Youkilis: I hear from the ESPN that we rule! [chest bump]

David Ortiz [sitting away from everyone, crying softly over his slowly dying career]: I would not say such things if I were you...

Pedroia: Whatever old timer...you just miss the days in Minnesota when you were all potential and no production

Youkilis: As opposed to now when you are just no production at all

Pedroia: OH SNAP! [chest bump]

Ortiz: You two don't understand...the Nick Blackburn you've heard of in scouting reports is no more...

Pedroia: What do you mean?

Ortiz: He used to struggle, used to fail, used to be another erratic young pitcher, but then, one day he learned how to harness the power of cake, and now...now...

Youkilis: Now what?

Ortiz: Now he uses the power of cake to bedevil hitters and render them utterly useless, feeble, groundball swatting turd piles...do not speak ill of that man, for if you do, the mild-mannered Nick Blackburn you all believe to be hittable will vanish and in his place will rise the nefarious Dr. Cakeburn, hurler of pastries and despoiler of batting averages.

Pedroia/Youkilis: Whatever, we're totally awesome, and we chest bump all the time [Chest bump]

...later in the first inning Pedroia is behind in the count 1-2, smiling smugly to himself, then finds a Little Debbie Zebra Cake thrown across the plate...befuddled, and hungry, he lunges at it, then pretends he did, is called out on strikes and doesn't even get to keep the Zebra Cake.

...Still later in the first inning, with Youkilis behind in the count 1-2, stroking his goatee smugly in the face of Justin Morneau he is startled to see another Zebra Cake pelting down at him, he too lunges, and he too strikes out.

Back in the dugout Pedroi and Youkilis look over at Ortiz who simply shakes his head and says:

"That's the power of cake M*****-******s"

Look at Ortiz's stomach, that man knows the power--and danger--of cake.

*Ps, yes, I know that Pedroia and Youkilis also got hits and Pedroia got an RBI double off of Blackburn, but the mopey whiny looks on their faces after the strike outs were just too beautiful--chest bumping knuckleheads.

A new addition....

[ It is a dark and stormy night. The Twins Superfriends are hiding out in their cave, awating the beginning of spring training and their next shot at world domination and defeating their enemies, the infamous Yankpires, while watching "Flavor of Love" on VH1]

DELMON YOUNG, MASTER OF SUPRACTION: Flava-flaaaaaaaaaaaav!!! Man that guy is so sweet. Dude can you pass me a beer.
DREAD PIRATE NATHAN: Yar. (tosses beer)
CUDDYER, MASYER OF SUPRACTION: Man maybe you shouldn't drink so much during the offseason. Your supraction skills are getting a little soft, and do you really want to get benched for....this guy?
(gestures to GO-GO GOMEZ who is building a nest of shredded newspapers in the corner)
GOMEZ: Sleepytime!
CUDDYER: No man... hibernation time is over. We have to play baseball now.
GOMEZ: (tear forms in eye) But.... I'm sleeeeeeepy......
YOUNG, MoS: Yeah. I see what you mean. (pause) But... I like beer.
CAKEBURN: And I like trashy reality television. What's on next?
JESSE CRAIN, ZE UBERMENSCH: G's to Gents marathon! That show is so awesome, mainly because it subverts Christian morality to allow for all sorts of sneaky plots and schemes, allowing the man who is truly great to come out on top. I love that shit!
CAKEBURN: I like cake.
ALL: We know.
CUDDYER: So, what do you guys wanna do tomorrow night?
YOUNG: I dunno. Maybe drink some more and watch a movie with Will Ferrell or Seth Rogen, and then TP the Pohlads house?
ZE UBERMENSCH: Dude we did that last weekend....
YOUNG: Oh yeah...
CUDDYER: Beer pong?
CAKEBURN: Cake pong?
ZE UBERMENSCH: What the...? That doesn't even make sense.
GOMEZ: CAKE!!!!!!!!!! CAKIE CAKE CAKE CAKE!!!!
ZE UBERMENSCH: Welp that woke him up. But seriously guys. Look at our lives. We're superheroes, yet we sit around watching trashy reality TV and drinking and talking about cake. We have no culture. No.... je ne sais quoi.
YOUNG: Dude. NOT true. You just said something in French - that's totally cultured. And reality television tells the epic story of man's quest for perfection. And look at DP Nathan - he's a pirate! That's very refined.
DP NATHAN: RAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHH!!!!!! YARRRRRR JOE NATHAN RAAAAAAAARAG;FLKAJGHH!!!!
YOUNG: OK I see your point.
ZE UBERMENSCH: I mean, I'm the only one who even stops to ponder the greater questions in life. We need someone... classy. Someone with intelligence who can complement our lack of literary and cultural knowledge.

[R.A. Dickey appears in a puff of smoke]

DICKEY: Why, hello there.



CUDDYER: Dude. Who are you?
DICKEY: An excellent question, and one that requires the utmost consideration. Who am I? Who in fact are you? Who are we all? Would you like a fine cuban cigar and a glass of scotch?
ZE UBERMENSCH: Seriously though. Who are you.
DICKEY: My name is R.A. Dickey. I am a rather accomplished knuckleballer but I also have a degree in English literature. I alone can assist you in transforming your uncouth ways. I also have impeccable grammar.
YOUNG: Dude... cool.
CAKEBURN: Do you like cake?
DICKEY: Indubitably.
CAKEBURN: He's in.
CUDDYER: But wait.... how do you fit into our legion of superheros? What does being smart and having an english degree have to do with helping us defeat the Yankpires?
DICKEY: Ah but you don't understand. My combination of witty banter and killer knuckleball allows me to transform into.... THE MASTER LIBRARIAN!!!

ALL: Whoah.

DP NATHAN: Yar.

And so it was that THE MASTER LIBRARIAN joined the ranks of the Twins Superfriends, to fight alongside them and to help them defeat the Evil Yankpires.

[ Giving credit where credit is due, this post was like all great things in life, a true team effort. Smelly sent me the photoshops while I was working. Mad props]

Halloween

With less than 12 hours before the majority of us will don wild regalia and howl into the abyss of All Hallow's Eve, I'm sure that many of you are saying: "hey! writer for a blog that I randomly found while looking up peanut brittle recipes! I'm a Minnesota Twins fan who would like to show their passion for the team in my Halloween costume, can you help me?"

The short answer is: yes. The long answer is: I will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, to keep you reading this blog. Costume ideas: sure. Field dress a moose: you betcha. Wet t-shirt contest: WHATEVER YOU WANT.

For now, try one of these Costumes from the Peanuts From Heaven Inc. wardrobe line

1) Cuddyer and Young Masters of Supraction

You too can be a master of Supraction (TM) just by dressing like the magical masters of Twins Baseball. 

Requirements: open shirts, and a willingness to show your chest.

2) Dread Pirate Nathan

The scurviest scallywag who ever sailed the seven seas and slung sliders of some splates! Requirements: A basic pirate costume, applique goatee and an ability to "Yarrrrrrrr"

3) Sgt. Gardy's Lonely Hits Club Band

The best pundits in the business who also happen to be musically avant garde and willing to risk their health for the sake of experimentation.

Requirements: Neon military regalia, three friends (and if you're reading this, I'm not sure which one you're less likely to have)

4) The Nefarious Dr. Cakeburn

By day you can be as mild mannered as a rookie pitcher afraid of offending others. By night, burn with the heat of an oven preset to 350 degrees, and foil all the enemies of Twindom through the deliciousness of cake

Requirements: Cake, flames jutting around behind you, some kind of nuclear cake baking accident.

Just try one of these Peanuts from Heaven approved costumes, and you too will be as cool as me....wait...I mean cooler! MUCH MUCH COOLER!! 

Good Thing I Have Unlimited Texting...

The following does not explain why the Twins won last night, nor does it necessarily even belong on this blog...but it does explain why I had almost 40 texts in my inbox this morning, most of which were sent while I was at last night's game. It also helps to understand the Skittles in the previous post.

K at 7:13 pm Blackburn walked Wise on 5 pitches..not promising
7:14 pm annnnnnnnnnnnd double play.

B at 7:18 pm: was it supraction or talent that got baker out of that mess?
7:27 pm: drat thought Delmon had that

K at 7:29 pm: I know! Oh well…at least we’re making buhrle work hard.

B at 7:33 pm: yup – now if we can just get the sox offense to suck.

K at 7:35 pm: How do you propose we accomplish this? Laxatives? Tigers?

B at 7:37 pm: why not Tigers who’ve been given laxatives?

K at 7:39 pm: I think the two might cancel each other out. Ps bases loaded not good.

B at 7:38 pm: Has Blackburn been eating cake again?

K at 7:40 pm: must’ve been good cake!

B at 7:43 pm: How about vampire leprechauns?? Or wookies?

K at 7:44 pm: Gogo Gomez strikes again!
7:47 pm: Poison darts maybe?

B at 8:07 pm: Damn good cake!! Maybe yellowcake? Maybe angelcake? Maybe laxative cake?

K at 8:07 pm: Ewwww…. Or maybe he fed it to Buhrle?

B at 8:10 pm: Maybe Buhrle followed a skittle trail to said cake?

K at 8:12 pm: Yes! Clearly this is exactly what happened.
9:15 pm: A small observation – all white sox fans have nasty-ass greasy hair.

B at 9:18 pm: Ewww. In other news my dad kicks his legs in the air like a crab when Alexi swings at bad pitches.

K at 9:38 pm: Alright Joe, make me proud.

B at 9:40 pm: How does Justin feel about your affinity for DP Nathan?

(No communication for a while because I was chewing my fingernails off slowly in a Joe-Nathan-Induced panic)

(Victory!)

K at 9:55 pm: Now that right there is why I love baseball.

B at 9:58 pm: Expand please. Victory? Tension? Morneau’s booty?

K at 10:00 pm: All of the above. And I don’t think Justin is jealous of my affection for joe Nathan. He understands – pirates are hot.


...and then it deteriorated into discussions of Lint balls and swinging up onto a poop deck with a martini in one's teeth.

The Rise of Cakeburn

What did we learn tonight?

Well, I have a strange habit of clapping once (AND ONLY ONCE) when something good happens. When someone swings at a pitch out of the zone my father slides onto his back and kicks his legs in the air like a soft shell crab. And my mother loves winning, but wishes Mauer would hurry up and win this stupid batting title already.

But most of all we learned that reports of Nick Blackburn's demise are greatly exaggerated. But what's gotten Blackburn back on the right track: only Peanuts from Heaven Inc. knows the answer.

Prior to the game, in the pitcher's warm up session.

BLACKBURN: [Sigh]

LIRIANO: Not So Little Nicky Blackburn, what is wrong? You are not pitching with fire, intensity or even mild warmth.

BLACKBURN: I don't know Francisco, it just seems like we pitchers aren't, y'know...

LIRIANO: Cool?

BLACKBURN: Yeah! I mean, Gogo's crazy...

GOGO: [Running by to catch all balls in the area] BLAAAAAAAAGGHHGHGHGH!

BLACKBURN: Delmon's the master of supraction...

YOUNG: [appearing in a puff of smoke] DAMN STRAIGHT! [Disappears in a puff of smoke]

BLACKBURN: And Cuddy's just generally adorable...

CUDDYER: [smiles and a ding sounds] That's me.

BLACKBURN: But only you and the Dread Pirate Nathan have cool gimmicks.

NATHAN: YAAAAARRRRRRRR!

BLACKBURN: I'm just that guy who likes cake

LIRIANO: You're missing the point Nick. None of us choose our gimmicks. Do you think Brendan Harris would be the "Jim" of our clubhouse if he could pick his own gimmick?

HARRIS: No one asks me about my tap dancing skills...

LIRIANO: I'm the Cisco kid because I'm a dangerous gunslinger!

NATHAN: JOE NATHAN!! BLAAAARRR-BLA-BLARRRRGH!! [Translation: I'm the Dread Pirate Nathan because I loot and pillage through cannon fire offenses and imminent peril!]

LIRIANO: You're Cakeburn! It's over. Run with it, use it!

BLACKBURN: But Cakeburn just sounds like a lame Dick Tracy villain.

LIRIANO: So...do something villainous to the other team.

BLACKBURN: Like what?

LIRIANO: My friend, I'm a gun slinger. I cannot be a cake obsessed villain. You must find your own path.

As soulful music from The Fray played softly in the background, Not So Little Nicky Blackburn, walked slowly down a dimly lit Metrodome hallway, his cleats clicking on the concrete as the wheels in his head spun slowly and hatched a nefarious plot to undermine the White Sox pitcher.

So, upon the end of his warm up session, as he walked back towards the visitor's dugout, Mark Buehrle saw something intriguing, and was heard to say: "ooh, Skittles." The pretty colors and tangy, fruity flavors enticed Buehrle's senses. And led him away from the visitor's dugout, and towards the seats over the right field baggy. Where he spied...oh...could it be. "Ooh, sexy cake with mermaids!!"

As he watched Buehrle scale the baggy to retrieve his cakie-prize, somewhere, in the darkest shadows, lurked a man, cloaked in mystery. A man, who irrationally used commas, to indicate, dramatic pauses, in his sinister monologues.  A man, dedicated solely, to the dream, of a cake based economy, and seeking revenge, on all those, who mocked his passion for his lost love, Li'l Debbie. A man, who will now be known, as CAKEBURN!

So sad...

You know what I wrote three hours ago.

Yeah...this game is the absolute opposite of that.

But why? WHY?!?

Perhaps it has something to do with this, as reported by Merlin...the magical dog who knows all, sees all and loves the Twins.

Brendan Harris and Alexi Cassila were walking towards the vistor's clubhouse in Baltimore this morning talking about what had happened the night before.

HARRIS: I feel so alive! I mean, now I'm capable of communicating with people through televisions, it's just great to be alive.

CASILLA: I know! Wait...no I don't.

HARRIS: Silly Alexi, you can't talk through televisions.

CASILLA: Yeah, but, it's still great to be alive. I mean, 24 runs in one day, we are AWESOME!

As they turned the corner into the clubhouse they were suprise, and distracted, by Delmon Young's sudden cry: "SUPRACTION BITCHES!!!"

HARRIS: Delmon, what are you doing?

YOUNG: It's my birthday today! So I'm throwing a Supraction party!

CASILLA: But we were going to throw you a surprise party after we won today's game.

YOUNG: Silly Alexi, suprises are for sissies! SUPRACTION YO!!

HARRIS: So you're throwing yourself a party?

YOUNG: Yeah! Me and Wayne [Hattaway, Twins clubhouse manager] have been up all night setting it up! Well...Wayne set it up I was busy playing with confetti.

CASSILLA: Shouldn't we be getting ready for the game?

YOUNG: Silly Alexi, parties are fun! Look at Nick Blackburn--he should be getting ready to pitch, but he's too busy having fun.

BLACKBURN: Cake is good.

YOUNG: So get in here and try the ball pit I've got set up in the showers. IT'S SUPRACTALICIOUS!!!

The party was, by Merlin's report, fun. Though he tried to get them to try batting practice, pitching warm-ups or any kind of game planning, Merlin is a dog...and incapable of human speech (he reported this to Peanuts From Heaven, Inc. through morse code paw tappings). Hopefully, the team will be so tuckered out from the party that they'll sleep soundly en route to Cleveland tonight...and not lose a game again until Delmon's next birthday party.