Designated Everything

Most of the wise and trusted Twins blogs have noted that while the team's current offense, to put it politely, sucks harder than a Super Powered Hoover. Yet, they say, help is on the way from the prospect ranks--even if many of them are currently injured.

That's a big but...

However, all that hope for the future comes with a caveat as big as Kenny Vargas' backside. To wit: most of the good hitters are not terribly athletic and have serious questions about their defense. Sure we may have boppers, but what do you do with a team that has nine potential designated hitters?

The obvious answer is just to designate a bunch more positions and let a whole raft of back up people hit. Creating a roster (around 2016 that looks like this)

C-Kurt Suzuki
1B--Joe Mauer
2B--Brian Dozier
SS--Danny Santana
3B--Miguel Sano
LF--Eddie Rosario
CF--Byron Buxton
RF--Aaron Hicks
Pitcher--Anything with an arm...heck a slot machine will do.
Designated Hitter--Kenny Vargas
Designated Hitting Catcher--Josmil Pinto
Designated Hitting Left Fielder--Trevor Plouffe
Designated Hitting Right Fielder--Oswaldo Arcia

Now, critics will point out that this is...you know..."breaking the rules of the game"

BUT! Perhaps there's another way. After all, you don't really need a good outfield if your pitchers induce strike outs and ground balls. So, and prepare to suspend your disbelief fans, what if, in a crazy mixed up world of my own imagination, where up is down, left is right and the Twins hire a manager who decides to use platoons (I told you it would need a major suspension of disbelief), you try to use these players strategically?


Consider the 7 claimants to the "DH" role right now as well as the two most athletic "outfield prospects" who aren't totally at sea with a bat:
Joe Mauer, Kenny Vargas, Josmil Pinto, Oswaldo Arcia, Trevor Plouffe, Chris Parmelee, Miguel Sano, Eddie Rosario, Aaron Hicks.

Where do you think you're going?

If you assume that we can count on two years of Suzuki at Catcher (which apparently is also expected to be a Josmil Pinto free zone), Dozier at Second, Santana at short and stop gaps replaced by Bionic Byron Buxton in Center, then we have five spots left to play with (in order of least defensive danger): DH, First Base, Left Field, Right Field and Third Base

Here's how those 9 players rank in terms of OPS in their Major League Careers or the last season of the minors (biased I know...but hey, if you expect quality analysis from me, you clearly didn't read my "Joe-Mauer-could-play-better-if-he-became-an-amateur-stand-up-comedian" post)
OPS Versus Righties
Sano (.975)
Mauer (.922)
Vargas (.844)
Pinto (.813)
Arcia (.799)
Rosario (.705)
Parmelee (.704)
Plouffe (.674)
Hicks (.543--though .746 all year at three levels)

OPS Versus Lefties
Sano (1.027)
Pinto (.892)
Vargas (.828)
Plouffe (.807)
Mauer (.748)
Hicks (.746 majors....854 all year at three levels)
Parmelee (.710)
Rosario (.630)
Arcia (.620)

So, like I said, that's not perfect, indeed it's a big fat set of assumptions...i.e. that hitting lefties in Triple A or Double A is equivalent to major leagues (Josmil Pinto's gap from the AAA Lefties to Big leaguers is a whopping 206 points to the worse at .686...though that still puts him ahead of Arcia)

Still, I think that if we assume A) he doesn't come back as a shell of his former self and B) he can still throw the ball, that Miguel Sano is going to be a full timer no matter what. Preferably at third base the hardest of our five positions defensively and the one he would play better than everyone else on the list

That leaves 8 guys for four spots, and here's where my idea comes into effect what if we had not one platoon, not two platoons, BUT FOUR PLATOONS!!! The platoons would be based on both the opposing pitcher, and whether or not we have a fly ball pitcher going ourselves. 

Take a break Joe...literally whenever
you want.

Here's how I could see it

Versus Lefties with a Fly Ball Twins Pitcher

DH-Pinto

1B-Vargas

LF-Mauer (or Plouffe if Mauer needs a rest day)

RF-Hicks

Versus Lefties with a Ground Ball Twins Pitcher

DH-Pinto/Vargas (whoever's hotter)

1B-Mauer (or Vargas if Mauer needs a rest)

LF-Plouffe

RF-Hicks

Versus Righties with a Fly Ball Twins Pitcher

DH-Pinto

1B-Mauer (or Vargas if Mauer needs a rest)

LF-Arcia

RF-Rosario

Versus Righties with a Ground Ball Twins Pitcher

DH-Pinto

1B-Vargas

LF-Mauer

RF-Arcia

A couple of pros to this approach. 

Thanks for the memories, Chris

1--It clarifies value to the team pretty quickly: Parmelee doesn't care any of these sets of four so if someone is willing to give you a prospect with a pulse take it. Rosario only cracks one line up, and theoretically you should be able to find a solid defensive outfielder who can handle right handed pitching at a steady clip, so see if he has any value too.

2--It allows you to start thinking about defensive liberty. Vargas has some background at first, but I would bet that Josmil Pinto could figure things out there as well as Matthew Lecroy did and be a third catcher, and Mauer's still a bit of an athlete (we hope). If Mauer could do a little time in Left, all of a sudden, Trevor Plouffe is expendable.

3--You have a more structured schedule to keep Mauer healthy. Less time against lefties will be better, especially as Joe gets older. And, if/when bullpens are used and right handed relievers come in...who's that sitting on the bench with a bat in his hands? What's that...a former MVP and batting champion? How about that!

And, just to show I can acknowledge my own failings, I'll admit a few weaknesses too...

I stubbornly still have faith
in you Hicksy.

1--My data set is totally messed up: no debating that, but I think it's reasonable to say that after years of hearing that "help is on the way" from the minors and looking at prospect rankings, this is a reasonable assessment of potential at the majors

2--I assume that everyone will reach their potential: yup, I do. They won't, but I teach public school, I have to think about potential more than existing skill or I'd go nuts.

3--Mauer in Left? I mean....Mauer in Left??? Again, point taken, there's every chance that the Twins/Mauer would never consider such a deal with the risk of a wall, or another outfielder, or a beer bottle at risk of hitting his head and ending his career. However, I would say that Mauer is still a fine athlete, even with the wear and tear, and that historically left field is perhaps the least exposed position on the diamond...maybe Josmil Pinto could figure it out, maybe Adam Brett Walker will develop so fast that we have a whole other problem, but for now that makes the most sense to me.

Dog Days: It's Okay for Puppies to Lose

Hi again humans.

I am Sidney, and I am blogging for my humans. Why you ask? My humans are frustrated with the Twins. They lose and lose, they say. My humans even argue over how much the Twins will lose, which is kind of silly because even if one of my humans win...they will watch the Twins lose.

When my hairy human takes me in the car (which I hate so much it makes me vomit in fury), he presses a button and we hear the voices of other people talking about the Twins...and how much they lose. Every voice seems to sound the same: very sad. Are all you Twins fans very sad about losing? Are all you Twins fans very sad when you need to talk about the Twins?

You shouldn't be. And I know one of you isn't.  Once in the evil car, I heard a human say "We could talk about the Twins," while two humans went "NO" in the sad voice that follows me peeing on the carpet. But one human went "Yay!" I like that human. I think he is a geek. But I like him just the same.

I didn't even have my teeth
on it...rookie mistake.

It is okay to lose. Take it from me, I used to lose every time I played tug with my humans. For years! I brought them my toy and they pulled it away no matter how hard I held on to it. Then they threw it...like they didn't even want the toy in the first place! Why take my toy if you don't want to keep it?!? (Ugh...my humans are dumb sometimes.) So I go get the toy and bring it back to ask them, then they try to take it again...only to throw it again!!

My humans are surprised that I keep playing this game. But it is because I lost so many times that I started to find ways to win! I learned from my losses. If I wag the toy in front of the hairy human, he misses grabbing it, and I can run away to chew it elsewhere! If I flop in front of the pretty human after she takes the toy, she drops it and starts petting me...WINNER!

Good boy, Pedro!

*Side note: I very much want to play tug and fetch with Pedro Florimon. He throws things like my humans. But he also chases them like me. He would make a very good playing partner. His Total Zone Runs Saved above Average is 4th best in all of baseball! My humans do not even make the list of players in baseball. They are not as good as Pedro. If I could just grow opposable thumbs, Pedro Florimon and I would play together all day long!*

It is sad that the Twins are losing. But because they lose I think that they will soon be able to win! They are basically a team of puppies. Puppies do not immediately win every game of tug, young players do not immediately win championships.

Some people say they are mad that the Twins are not trying to win. They are not playing good players! They are not hiring good players! I understand. You pay money. You want to see good things. But just think of the players as puppies. I think the human gnome man who manages the Twins already thinks of them this way. He calls them by puppy names! If "Gibby" struggles, it's okay, he's just learning. If "Hicksy" can't hit, it's okay, he's just learning. If "Oswaldo-y" drops a ball, it's okay, he's just learning

Now imagine 8 more of me
at Target Field!

Sure, you can go out and buy already trained dogs who will win games of tug and always go fetch and win many blue ribbons for prettiness. But they cost a lot of money and so you can probably only buy one or two. BUT! You could always buy a bunch of little puppies and train them to win games of tug and go fetch and look pretty all the time. Plus, you get to see puppies. And puppies are cute.

Like me.

So be like the Geeky human in the car. Cheer for the puppies! They will learn! You will be proud!

YAY PUPPIES! YAY TWINS!!

Adopt a Prospect II.2: Derestraining the Force Inside You

It's a frickin' monsoon out there little rainy today, and rather than stare hopefully at the FSN rain delay, hoping that the game restarts and the Twins suddenly remember the good ol' days of two weeks ago when they could crush the Red Sox as easily as a twig under a space ship, we decided to revisit our old pal Luis Perdomo!

Then we saw the statistics and remembered that Luis needs a motivation coach. So it's high time for lesson number two:

(This instruction was intended for Luis Perdomo only...following the Peanuts from Heaven De-Restraining a Force Inside You [DRAFIY] without specifically tailored guidance from a Peanuts From Heaven approved Force De-Restrainer may result in serious injury. Peanuts from Heaven is not liable for misinterpretations of their lessons...but please don't think this lesson is encouraging to remove your own appendix...that's crazy talk)

Lesson 2: When Life Hands You Lemons, See if You can't get Some Limes, Carbonated Water and High Fructose Corn Syrup to Make a Sugary Soft Drink!

Let's not lie, let's not sugar coat it, let's not pretend that your dog is one new coat of nail polish away from winning the Miss America Project. There will be some hard times in your life and career Luis, hard times like the last two weeks where you gave up a run in all but one of your six appearances. But what matters is not which problems you face, but what you do in response.

The Ultimate Goal

Other motivation coaches might tell you to turn those lemons into Lemonade, but those of us behind the De-Restraining a Force Inside You program, firmly believe that a new age calls for a new mindset. Why settle for Lemonade when you can have a Sugary Lemon-Lime flavored soft drink? After all, the lemonade might be refreshing, but only the soft-drink can be resold for tremendous profit and potential long term health consequences for your enemies!

So yeah, it's not great that you've given up more walks than strikeouts (7 to 6), or that you've given up about as many hits as runs (13 and 12). But what do we do, Luis? We take all those problems and we turn them into a strength for you! Now your opponents have come to mistakenly believe that they can hit whatever you throw up there, but when you unleash your flaming fireballs of doom then there will be no recourse left to them...and if you have no flaming fireballs of doom, you can always use a slider or change-up, then BOOM now the opposition is crippled by your diabetes inducing awesomeness!

Happy thoughts

Looking over my tweets and blogs from the first week of the season there's a surprisingly snarky streak to them all. I'd always thought of our little outpost in the Twins blogosphere as a happy place, and yet it seems like the stinktastic 2011 has colored our perspective on the team's early struggles.

For example, on Thursday I turned on the game over lunch, in time to see that the Angels had already run up a 5 run lead. A student came into my room to hear the score and then joined me in a 5 minute commiseration of an already woebegone season. Two hours later, as I took the track team for a work out the Twins had fought back to tie the game. An hour after that, students and teachers and others walking down the street were bouncing along elated at a win, and a win that featured homeruns by Mauer and Morneau no less.

I felt terribly guilty and vowed to be more optimistic for the series against the Rangers (after all, we have some sort of mojo that has bedeviled Texas (and very few others) for two years now) and yet, the more I watched the snarkier I became. 

For instance, while I was quite pleased with the Twins' signing of Ryan Doumit over the offseason (he was switching from my 2nd favorite team--Pittsburgh--to my first after all), I was significantly less impressed as he took a flyball off the gut in the field, and grounded into double plays with a consistency not seen since Delmon Young. 

I bemoaned another injury to a pitcher, pointed out the awkwardness of Chris Parmelee's "bat-drying" technique, I even picked on hapless middle relievers Jared Burton and Matt Maloney for their doofy hipster beards.  Honestly, how could a game that's supposed to be fun turn me into such a crank.

So I'll try to be enjoying the game more freely today as I go to Target Field for the first time. I will not mutter about errant throws, or insinuate that I know more about who to sign than Terry Ryan (the guy has been in baseball longer than I have been alive after all). I won't huff and puff over strike threes or boo one of our own (I doubt that any player hears it and suddenly goes: "OH! They DON'T want me to play like I have been!! Boy do I feel silly!")

I do however reserve the right to tell the Twins to avoid bases loaded situations. In the immortal words of Rebel Leader Admiral Phinneas Q. Ackbar:

Bases loaded and no outs? Looks like they've got us right where they want us

Think happy thoughts everybody!

The Grim Goodbye

Nice sandwich, buddy

I've written before that one of the things I like best about baseball is the sense of family that surrounds a franchise and a team and a community. You can draw a direct line through the annual rosters: from my mother watching Tony Oliva in the bleachers at Met stadium as a kid, to my grandfather enjoying box seats with Rod Carew and Roy Smalley in the infield. From my brothers and I getting our first taste of big league ball with Kirby and Kent Hrbek under the dome (and still loving an annual game when the "stars" were Chuck Knoblauch and Matt Lawton), to the perpetual October excitement on my college campus as Torii led the rejuvenation and then passed the baton to Morneau and Mauer.

It feels like the Twins are a part of my family and when you see Tony O. smiling next to his sandwiches and Hrbek pouring beers and Torii gushing about the best pancakes in town, it's easy to forget that not every relationship with beloved stars ends like this. Growing up in the mountain west it was easy to cheer for Karl Malone and the Utah Jazz...now they may not even want to be mentioned in the same sentence. Peyton Manning seemed likely to be buried in a blue and white Colts jersey and now the media is ablaze with rumors about where he will land next. Oh, and speaking of ablaze...

Thing is, you don't really see that at Target Field. We've said goodbye to our share of stars, but next season you'll see plenty of "Hunter 48"s and "Santana 57"s and "Cuddyer 5"s dotting the stands. And in ten years--when we sit back and reminisce about our run of division championships in the aughts--it's easy to imagine each alumnus throwing out a first pitch, sitting next to Dick Bremer for an inning, being polite and proudly cheered whenever they turn up.

So is that we don't care enough? That our players are so aware of our mild-mannered Minnesota-Niceness that they don't feel a need to get hot and bothered either? That the media is so ambivalent about our "small-market" that Joe Mauer could launch into an obscenity laced tirade against umpires, Bud Selig and TC Bear, without prompting so much as a three-second drop in on Sportscenter?

Actually, I think it's just that we haven't been forced into the situation that the Jazz and the Colts have faced. In each case there was a superstar athlete, a career-long member of the family who, for one reason or another, felt that management didn't want them around any more; and who, for one reason or another, management pretty much...didn't want around any more. It is as close to a sports divorce as you can find.

Strange but true

After all those years of adulation and affection to suddenly hear that your services are no longer required is a rough business. And it's not surprising that premier athletes, who have had every reason to be confident in their greatness from the age of 17 on, believe they can go another season and another and another. But when that belief contradicts management's assessment the battle for custody of the fan's affection begins. If the fans side with the player, there is a good chance of bronze statues and special ceremonies for your twilight years; if fans side with management...well...you get Hank Aaron the Brewer and Greg Maddux the Dodger. The Twins haven't had any of these bad breakups, we allow players in their prime venture out in search of wealth and fame and fortune; sad to see them go but grateful for the time we had together.

Of course, that may all change soon. After all, we love Justin Morneau, the big walloping Canuck who can hold down first base like a goalie. Heck, Stinky used to plot ways of getting him to her place (this of course was prior to our marriage). But Morneau's about to turn 31, he's missed large parts of the last three seasons with back and concussion issues and at a certain point you wonder if the Twins will say: "sorry big guy, you're done here." Already the drumbeat has started, people hope for the best and then mention, Chris Parmalee as an insurance policy, and hey, Derek Lee's still out there, could we maybe...? We can't help but think about the future and admit (however grudgingly) that this can't last. (I won't even mention the mutterings about the other half of the M&M boys)

Other bloggers can break down the factors that feed into the Twins decision making process; what in house options we have, what other franchises might be willing to take on the salary risk now or in the near future. But I'm not as concerned with that as I am with the franchise's family and with postponing a grim goodbye as long as possible. I want Justin to succeed because he's part of the lineage now and I'd rather keep him for the consistency of the clubhouse rather than wash our hands of him because of recent issues.  What's more, I know that there will be a day when Morneau can be appreciated as a happy memory to be recalled with fondness rather than as a potential lynchpin of our lineup that causes worry and consternation. And when Stinky and I have a child or grandchild sitting beside us in the nosebleeds telling them about the good ol' days and drawing the line from our favorites to the current stars, I hope that, like Tony and Kent, and Torii that Morneau will want to come back, to throw out a ceremonial pitch to the new young guns, to reminisce in sepia tones about the good ol' days.

After all he's part of the family, and who really likes to say goodbye to family?

Ominous...and yet...

I feel like I'm beginning a lot of posts this way lately but: "Apologies for the delay in posting...we peanuts have been awfully busy". Work, school, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Yup...pretty dark...

So why break radio silence as the Twins are about to fall even farther behind the Royals for fourth place (yes, fourth place) in the AL Central? Because, for as ominous as the end of this year is becoming there's something else, out there in the distance that we haven't thought about yet.

See, in baseball it's easy to get transfixed by the little things, the moments, the day to day minutiae of the game. They say it again and again for players--"he's overthinking", "he needs to put his bad at-bats behind him", "they've just got to take it one day at a time." Some players just can't help but worry about every single at bat that turned into an easy ground ball, every fielding chance they fumbled, every pitch they failed to execute.

See! No signs of hits or throws!

One bad play begets another, which begets another, which begets another and so and so forth. If you don't believe me ask Trevor Plouffe and his mid-June spurt of throws that missed the broad side of every barn between here and Brainerd. Or ask Tsuyoshi Nishioka who so plainly wants to succeed and seems so utterly shamed every time he walks back to the dugout after failing to beat the throw to first. Or ask Brian Duensing as he sits on the bench, chewing his nails, mentally replaying pitch sequences that turned an inning with two quick outs into a sudden three-run, chase-him-from-the-game, question-his-spot-in-the-rotation-and-career-path nightmare.

One player struggles, then another, and another and the panic grips the team. Even the indomitable Pav-stache and robotic Joe Mauer seem to be waiting for the inevitable defeat at this point. Sure they'll try, but they just accept that when it's a borderline pitch, the call is going to go against them. They haven't given up--but the looming doom is right there over the Twins collective shoulders.

While that makes watching the games (and rehashing them in blog form) a little rough at times, there's something we have to remember.

There. Is. Hope.

Start with the fact that a lousy record now means a solid draft pick next year (and at a fairer price if MLB and the Union agree on a better draft system). Sure the Twins farm system isn't great now...but bear in mind that we've been drafting at the ends of rounds for the last decade--our best players were picked up during our decade of slump-tacular mid-90's horror. A true top-flight prospect who can contribute in a year or two rather than 5 will be much appreciated.

If only it were this easy

Also remember that the Twins did not flip a switch and go from a good ball club to a lousy one. They didn't forget to pack the talent with them as they left Fort Meyers, they simply could never dig themselves out of a considerable hole made in April and May (and dug again through injuries and poor pitching in August). Make good moves for 10 years and you're a model organization--make bad moves for 1 year and you aren't utterly hopeless...you've just run up against a law of averages.

Finally, never forget that through it all Twins fans keep plopping down cash to go to Target Field, keep buying jerseys and bobbleheads and all kinds of gear. That's money we could use to get another good pitcher, or infielder, or whatever. (It's also likely those prices won't rise next year, given the shoddy product on the field this year.)

Ahh, there it is!

I see this all the time when I teach. Kids look up and see the gloomy cloud of an impending test, or project, or class. They struggle once, they expect to struggle again and again, and nothing will ever be good or fun and life is horrible.

But once they see a little gleam of hope: a word they know from their notes, a thumbs up from a truculent teacher, a smile from their crush, then the world is marvelous and beautiful and completely peachy keen!

The Twins (and their fans) have seen the dark clouds all year long. Don't forget--there's always a silver lining.

Wha' Happened?

Hey everybody!! We're back from our honeymoon in Thailand! While we liked Muy Thai boxing just fine, we definitely missed the baseball. So, how have things been going since the Texas series?

....oh, really? we've lost 9 of the last 12?

........and we've gone from 6 back to 11.5 back?

............and we didn't add anybody or ditch any underperformers at the trade deadline?

...................and people are posting unconfirmed reports of Gardy's job being in jeopardy?

............................and Cuddy just got hurt?

Well.

Uh....

How 'bout them Minnesota Lynx, eh?!? Go SIMONE "CEASAR" AUGUSTUS!!!!

Seriously though, while we're happy to cheer the lovely ladies of the Lynx (and write alliterative phrases/historical nicknames about them), we'll keep watching the Twins and cheering for them with all that we've got until the season ends, no matter how bad it gets.

So best of luck to the Twins as the head into Detroit and best of luck to our fellow fans as we try to keep the faith and love going through the season.

Sweet Dreams, Bitter Breakfasts

Strangely, the Twins' West Coast road trip has actually given we Minnesotan baseball nuts a measure of hope (a rarity for any trip towards the Pacific). The offense started to gel, home runs started to soar, and we started to think that maybe, just maybe we'd have a week where we won more games than we lost, starting a positive trend that would carry into June and then July and then keep the Twins rolling towards the most unlikely division title of the past decade.

Then came Arizona. [Cue the heavy sigh]

For the last two nights I have turned away from games when we have lead and when I have a party to go to or heavy eyelids. I genuinely feel happy with the team's performance at these moments, not ecstatic or rapturous, but happy. It's nice to see a few long balls. It's comforting to feel like the veterans are doing everything possible to regain their form. It seems that no matter how bad the season has been a dedicated few will stubbornly fight to salvage it. And I dream that good days are just over the horizon.

Perhaps that's over confidence, perhaps it's the assumption that these are the Diamondbacks of old, perhaps it's just the desperate hope that things are going to get better. Whatever the case, when I look at the score again in the morning my sweet dreams are dashed and the bitter reality of another defeat sets in.

Bitter though the morning box score check is, I can't blame on any player, not the losing pitcher, not the error-prone defender, not the golden sombrero hitter. You win as a team, you lose as a team, and right now--inexplicable as it is given the Twins talent and recent history--we are certainly losing as a team. It's tough to swallow my morning yogurt, granola, bacon or tea with that taste in my mouth...but a few hours later we look forward to the next game and hope that the day will end with sweeter dreams ahead. That might seem crazy, but if you're a baseball fan you're used to believing in crazy things.

So, after whatever that was last night in Arizona. We offer this musical suggestion:

(You could disobey the request of these adorable children...but we wouldn't recommend it.)

AL Eeesh-t

Once again the Twins were the proverbial kittens, forever flailing and stretching but permanently stymied by the Tampa Bay Beams of Light (as the following picture demonstrates)

Getting swept at the hands of Stupid Hipster Johnny Damon and his crew was unpleasant, especially since it brings the Twins record against the AL East this year to 5-12. Most of that has been compiled on the road, but fortunately we have just one more trip to the Eastern seaboard (a four game set in Boston next weekend).

Once we've swallowed the nasty cod-liver oil of our games against the AL East we can focus on winning the division by beating teams in our division...a group of teams we have played exactly 4 times so far and have great track records against.

This is all my way of saying that it's not over yet, so don't sully the litter box or pass on the Meow Mix. Those nasty beams of lights have gone away for a few months--let's focus on the future not the past.

Oh Ps. Please vote in the poll on the right side of the page with your favorite nickname for Matt Capps...and let us know if there's anything that you'd rather have as an option for voting.

Suggestions for Getting out of a Funk

It seems like every time the Twins get a little momentum--a burst of power hitting, a solid outing by the bullpen, a clutch knock to walk-off with a game winner--something halts us in our tracks the very next day. Win in Toronto? Lose in New York. Pull off a comeback win in the Bronx? Rain out stalls the progress. Great homecoming for Mauer & Nathan? Oakland pitchers wipe out the weekend. Danny V. gives us a walk off win Tuesday night? Liriano's one bad inning dooms the next game.

While it feels inconceivable that our hitters, our pitchers and our defense would be slumping simultaneously...the evidence is right there. But again, in keeping with the whole "positive thinking" thing we're trying out this year--we'd like to make the following suggestions to the Twins as they seek to bust out of this slump on the upcoming road trip:

• Visit a Zen garden and meditate on human existence and the scale of the universe and how fun it is to hit curveballs.
• Take a group visit to Denard Span's mom so she can make you warm cookies and remind you that no matter what, people love you and believe in you.
• Go on a trust building retreat with each other, where pitchers fall back into the arms of their waiting defense (make sure there are extra big gloves for when Matt Capps falls)
• Blow off some steam by pulling a prank on Joe Mauer by dyeing his sideburns blond while he's asleep.
• Try something new and exotic, like Baltimore's famous crab cakes! Or pitching a complete game shutout!!
• If all else fails...Sacrifice two goats and a rooster to the baseball gods (like the one pictured at the right, he'd definitely prefer lady goats just fyi.)

We're with you Twins, rain or shine or fiery hail of dragon dung. Here's hoping something clicks sooner rather than later.

The Getting or the Gathering

During this, the holiday season, our airwaves are inundated with stories that remind us of what this time of the year is really all about: kindness, compassion and loving concern for our fellow earthlings. Occasionally, we lose sight of this holiday spirit and fixate upon shiny new gadgets or sparkly baubles or free agent baseball players worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Because this is a baseball blog, I'll focus on the last one of those things (although, my i-Pad IS very very shiny). {Note, for best results, read this post along with the music at this link}

In the wake of the trade that sent JJ Hardy to Baltimore, a subtle sense of depression has infiltrated the normally peppy Twins blogosphere. Hardy's salary had to be cut to afford a new pitcher, but we can't seem sign one. And while our rivals have wrapped up big names (Victor Martinez in Detroit; Adam Dunn in Chicago; Adrian Gonzalez and Carl Crawford in Boston), the Twins front office seems to be dreaming of sugar plums and hoping that Santa delivers a free-agent miracle into their stockings.

In the eyes of many this is a source of vexation. We seem to have reached a plateau--competing for the title, but never winning it--and while other teams keep coming up with the funds to pay sixth starters, long relievers and reserve infielders multiple millions, we insist on asking obscure, inexpensive youngsters like Duensing, Slama, Burnett, Tolbert & Plouffe to do what higher profile back-ups on big clubs do. Such unproven-no-names and best-case-scenarios "is what differentiates [the Twins] from the big spenders out east, and its the exact kind of thing that will keep them from ever being able to surpass the Yankees in team talent" (according to the wise old dean of Twins Blogdom, Nick Nelson).

Such painfully frank analysis, especially from a blogger of Nelson's calibre, makes the whole game of baseball seems like a foregone conclusion; an equation that will invariably end in pinstriped easterners holding a big gold trophy. Faced with this impending failure, despair has permeated the Twins blogosphere. "We're screwed," they say. "We're dead," they say. "We've got no chance to compete" they say. Without quality free agent acquisitions our team may as well shuffle loose the mortal coil and join the Pittsburghs and Seattles of the world. (Or, to return to the holiday theme of this post: we pout that unless we have that expensive new player all the other teams are getting, the whole year will be ruined and we'll never be happy again.)

Far be it from me to say Nick Nelson is wrong, but I will (politely) disagree with the gloom and doom that has blossomed in the wake of his (and others) concerns. Maybe it's just the season-- the warm feeling inspired by one glass of egg nog too many or too many viewings of A Muppet Christmas Carol--but I can't summon the same despair. This is the time of year to embrace the spirit of the season and the people who surround us. Instead of fixating on the things that we don't have or the material possessions that we desperately want, now is the time to concentrate on how being with other people brings out the very best in ourselves.

Celebrating the holidays is not unlike being a baseball fan. You find reason for hope even in the darkest part of the year. You learn to celebrate and express gratitude for what you do have rather than what you don't. You spend quality time with your nearest and dearest and remember that, though they can drive you crazy, you're tied to each other for a lot longer than one day.

So, if you're convinced that life won't be worth while unless the Twins put a cool dirt bike of a player like Derek Lee or Brandon Webb underneath our tree come the 25th, take a deep breath. Remember, there's hope for every team every season. Remember, others (in say, Cleveland) would love to be at our "plateau". And remember to enjoy this time with your fellow fans no matter who joins the fold. Even if all we get is a pair of socks named Nick Punto, it's the holidays, its not about the getting, it's about the gathering.

If a Homer Hanky waves in Ohio...does it still have power?

As the Twins blogosphere has diligently reported, the Twins have spent the last week playing like a large pile of dog poo. Or, actually, dog poo would probably do a better job of confusing opposing batters than our starters have this week (they are stinking much more than dog poo, more like...roadkill wrapped in a month-worth of college freshmen's laundry).

But as easy at is to mock the team when they are down, and believe me I have many more similes and metaphors in mind, it really isn't really productive. What's more it just doesn't feel like the fan I want to be. I'm much more inline with bat-girl, who recently tweeted: "The voices in Batgirl's head are telling her this is all her fault."

The voices in my head say that too. Some people might think I'm crazy to car that much, but I honestly feel like I should be able to do something, say something, write something which will somehow stop the slide, change the momentum and save the day for all Twins Territory. I might be a little crazy, but let's be honest, who doesn't have their own personal little traditions? Why on earth do we think that turning a cap inside out and angling it 48 degrees to the right will somehow inspire our hitters to stage a comeback? Why do we yell/plead/pray/scold the bullpen to throw just one good pitch, just one good pitch, come on, you can get out of this inning with just one good pitch? Do we really imagine that Orlando Hudson will look up in the stands, see our rally caps and think: "thank god that guy changed his hat, NOW I'll be able to hit!!!!"? Do we hope that in his post game interview Jesse Crain will say: "yeah, it was a struggle, but once I heard Mrs. Swanson in section 18, row 20, seat 7 tell me to try my slider again, I knew I'd be okay. Part of this win's for you Martha!!!!"? WHAT WE DO DOESN'T EFFECT THE GAME!!!

But we do it anyway. Sure, it's ridiculous, it defies logic, it turns sane, intelligent, normal people into a crazed pack of cursing maniacs; it also lets us feel like we can do something to help the people we care about. My mother used to squirm like mad while my brothers and I played sports, not because she was possessed, but just because she felt so connected to us that squirming in the stands was the next best thing to standing beside her boys as they faced the oncoming hordes. We have spent 159 days and nights with this team, and while we've never shared a meal or had a one-on-one conversation, we feel deeply connected to them, and a would, if they asked, stand arm in arm one the diamond with them. We would gladly tackle Derek Jeter before he could cross home plate, or reach down and pick up Delmon so he could catch a fly ball from on top of the wall. We see them trying, and struggling and ultimately failing and we want to do something, ANYTHING to help them.

So, even though my arm feels like it's about to fall out of its shoulder socket, I'll keep waving my little square of white-cloth whenever we have a man in scoring position. I'll wave it in the middle of my small apartment, surrounded by my research, fully aware that my neighbors must think that I'm nuts. I'll wave it while hollering for JJ to break his bad luck and get something through the infield. I'll wave it, even though the only people who can see me are college kids stumbling home after a night at the bars. I'll wave it because I can't be there, because I can't swing for them, because I want to feel like I'm doing something and because I hope that somehow, Joe Mauer's psychic powers will read my concern and redouble his efforts on my behalf. I'll do it because I'm a little crazy, but if you've spent 159 games watching this team and you don't really care about the players and their successes and failures, then you're much crazier than I am.

Meet the New Twins!

Sure we could gloat about last night's win over the Kansas City Royals...but Kansas Citizens are nice people and being rude to nice people would be as Un-Minnesotan as store bought hot dish.

So instead let's take a look at the team's September call-ups, the scruffy youngsters that we hope will step up their game just in time to boost us into the post season.

C: Jose Morales: Morales actually has some stretch-run experience having played with the Twins last year which should help despite being sidelined with various injuries this year. But his biggest asset is the fact that he, like the two writers of this blog were born as aquarians in the year of the boar...making us: AQUAPIGS!!! That kind of cosmic good fortune bodes well...even if it is the weirdest potential superhero ever.

P: Pat Neshek: When last we saw Sir Sideshow Pat, he had left the rest of the bullpen in oodles of trouble and gone off in quest of a healthy arm to pitch with. Now he has returned and while it's not clear if he'll ever be as dominant as he once was, he is still pretty darned entertaining, and is, therefore, one of our favoritests.

IF: Trevor Plouffe: Plouffe has been up and down a lot this season, offering relief for Nick Punto and JJ Hardy. He doesn't hit real well, but he fields like a pro and his last name sounds like a dripping faucet...which could drive the opposition insane, and that's always a plus.

P: Glen Perkins: You might remember Glen from such seasons as last one (when he started out great and then did not so great and then did down-right bad) and the off season (when he got all uppity about the whole "the-Twins-are-conspiring-to-stop-me-from-making-money" thing, so we tried to trade him but couldn't). So, basically Glen Perkins is a good left handed pitcher in a fairly awkward situation. It's sort of like in romantic comedies when two significant others are thinking of breaking up, but they go to a big party/wedding/cross-country road trip with a chimp together anyway hoping that they'll recapture the magic...hmm...I have an idea for screenplay...

OF: Ben Revere: Arguably the happiest guy on the planet right now, Revere got called up from Double A to provide much needed defensive relief for our outfield. He struck out in his only at bat last night, but that doesn't change the fact that now we get to make Revolutionary War jokes...for that alone Revere is awesome.

As of now these are our best hopes for a late season spark...but maybe, just maybe, if the concussion fairies smile on Mr. Morneau we'll have one more bit of magic left in our hats. God speed new guys, we believe in you!

A Brief Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a kingdom called the Land of Cleve. This kingdom was ruled by a King known as The Bron. The king had a loyal tribe led by Captain Cheeseburger and Sir Cliffly as well as a horde of Dogs known as the "Browns" even though they were mostly Orange.

Anyway, the Land of Cleve felt pretty good about itself and The Bron was kind hearted and merciful. But slowly, the land began to fall on hard times. First the dogs were found to be toothless, then the Captain was bitten by a Yankpire and Sir Cliffly became a wandering gypsy. Still The Bron was there and the people of the Land of Cleve loved him deeply.

Then one day, some other Kings called up The Bron and said: "hey you wanna come live in our kingdom instead", and The Bron said: "yes. Yes I do." So he gave up the throne of the Land of Cleve and left never to return.

The people of Cleve were heartbroken and furious and so they sent forth their tribe to pillage all the neighboring kingdoms, beginning with The Troit and moving on to the Territory known as Twinnesota.

Baffled as to why they were being attacked the Twinnesotans lost many times to the tribe of Cleve and then sent forth Sir Francisco to inquire: "Umm...why are you guys attacking us?"

Between sobs the armies of Cleve announced: "Shut up! You don't know our pain! YOU MUST DIE!"

"Ummm...is this about your King just running away from your kingdom"

"NO!" they shouted Sir Francisco stared with caring eyes and suddenly the Tribe of Cleve sniffled and then...began to bawl "YEEEEESSSSSS!!!! Why. Did. He. Leave. US?!?!?!? Are we not cool? We'll be cool! We'll all drive Hummers or Hybrids or Hippos or whatever is in right now....just please...tell our king to come home!!"

The tribe flung themselves in to Sir Francisco's arms and as he held them he explained, "listen closely child. Kings are despotic rulers...having just one will lead to heartbreak. Believe me, the Territory of Twinnesota used to have King Randy, and then King Kevin, and then King Johan, but they all left eventually...sure we could crown a King Joe or a King Justin...but that could lead to heart break too...so instead we're all equals...you should try it...equality is fun!"

"Can we be equals?" the Tribe sniffed.

"Sure we can...but first why don't you go back and destroy The Troit and the Kingdom of the Pale Hosers some more, that'll make you feel better."

The Tribe dried it's eyes and said " 'Kay." And thus all was made well.

Sorry for your pain Land of Cleve...it gets better...trust us.

Delmon Young and the case of the foolishly high hopes

I like Spring Training, even though there are no games and therefore very little to watch or scream about (unless you live in Florida/Arizona in which case, thanks for rubbing it in). I think the main reason I like spring training is that news paper guys have nothing bad to say about anyone.

During spring training everybody's primed for a career year, every team is confident that their rotation will come together, everybody think they have the hot prospect who's going to revolutionize the game, everyone truly believes that maybe, JUST MAYBE, with a little luck and a couple surprises they could win the whole thing and prove that their manager is a genius. And all the columns reflect this optimism.

Come opening day all the expectations run out on to the field and slowly, surely reality sets in. Cincinnati is Cincinnati is Cincinnati and no amount of optimism is going to change that (prove me wrong, AROLDIS CHAPMAN!!). As the games go by and the season builds up, all the optimism and positive thinking fades away and we get new stories about crumbums with no talent in the rotation, overpaid bonus babies whose bubble bursts under the bright lights of the big time, and hot seats from sea to shining sea as one by one squads fall out of the race.

I was thinking about this because I've been reading about a player who is quite confusing to us here at the Peanuts from Heaven blog. A man by the name of Delmon Damarcus Young.

Now Delmondo (as we sometimes like to call him) is something of a special case. Since he joined the team, there has been a large amount of complaining, whining and full-on fulmination regarding his ability (or lack thereof). And while many of our fellow Twins fans believe that he is a--well--it rhymes with "Duck-Wad"-- we here at Peanuts from Heaven disagree.

Stinky believes that he's a fine human being who simply can't quite play baseball as well as some other guys (he does play it better than 99% of the populace though, so she will shake her head and sigh but never EVER boo/curse him). I, Scruffy, have a different opinion. I believe, TRULY believe that somehow, someway Delmon Young can still become a GREAT player.

I own a Delmon Young jersey and wear it with pride. I try to give Delmon special character traits on the blog that make him seem like less of a "Guck-wad" and more of an amusing young fella. And so I'm very very very very excited by reports that Delmon seems to have put his past (and his cheeseburgers) behind him, and may at last be smiling and "where he should have been 5 years ago". He's even cracking jokes--FUNNY ONES!

And yet, the cynical can read this, yawn and say: "heard it before!" They are done with Delmon, they see him as the Lucy to our Charlie Brown, perpetually offering the possibility of glory only to pull it away at the last second. In their minds every promise of maturity, every claim of turning the corner ever chance that this time MAYBE it will work out is fundamentally flawed. They call this feeling: "Realism". My mom calls it: "Poopy-pantsitude".

Me? I'm fully of blind hope and optimism, full of eager anticipation, full of the dream, impossible though it may seem that this is the year that Delmon reaches his potential, that this team reaches its potential, that everything comes to fruition and all is right with the world. Call it silly, call it childish, call it nothing more than spring fever which will fade (along with Delmon) when summer comes. Call it what you will, I'm much happier with my hopes than I'd ever be with your "realism".

Happy Belated Nick Punto Day

So we missed out on all the hubbub about Nick Punto Day, which means we missed out on the opportunity to get some pub on the Star Tribune, which means that, once again, we are writing to our loyal readers--HI MOM!

But, since we have a blog, we are turning up a little bit late to the Nick Punto Day Party, uninvited and with an extra dish of spinich/artichoke dip to make the last few minutes as awkward as possible.

So, what is there to say about Nick Punto that has not already been said? There are all kinds of numbers and UZRs and WARs and PEIHPOIIs* that can tell you how good a baseball player Nick Punto is, and if you like you can click that link up there and see them all again. If you prefer you can check out the kind of stuff we think you should look at and read the brilliance of our buddies at Those Girls, and For the Love... but we here at Peanuts from Heaven will focus instead on these two factoids.

1) Nick Punto appreciated my mustache. I think I've told this story before, but back before I was not exiled to the barren wasteland of Ohio, I worked at a Steakhouse where Twins players often came. Nicky P came in after a mother's day game with his wife and son, and I, while working the door, tried to play it cool and just show "Mr. Punto" to his table. Show him I did, and on the way Nicky P says to me, he says "are you growing your mustache for charity?" "Yes, yes I am Mr. Punto" (because I was), "I work with that charity, thanks for doing that...it looks good." "Thanks Mr. Punto.

Behold said mustache: and the veracity of Nick Punto's aesthetic judgements.

2) It is president's day which is a time to celebrate the one other profession where height does not equate to talent--politics! And the fact that Nicky P, has two whole inches on President #2 of our great land...John Adams.

This is not the only connection between Nicky P and President Adams...oh no. They are both Scorpios, the US population under Adam's presidency was a little more than 5 million, which is about the same as Nicky P's contract option for 2011, and both men have been known to eat dirt. Punto does it because it is the natural side effect of sliding into first base, Adams did it because he had a compulsion for Geophagy--or the eating of earth. This scandal was brought to light in a series of negative ads from 1800 Election rival Thomas Jefferson who smeared Adams with the taunt: "Verily, I may be slinging mud, but at least I am not eating it!"

So forget the stats and the figures and the numbers, the true greatness of Nick Punto comes in two forms. 1--Appreciation of mustaches, 2--similarity to John Adams. (Also, pluck, grit and a secret element on the periodic table known only as Scrappium.)

*If you don't know these stats they stand for Ulitmate Zone Ratings (UZRs) and Wins Against Replacements (WARs) and Please Everyone Ignore How Pointless This Information Is (PEIHPOIIs)

Lowest Expectations--and yet...

Okay--playing the low expectations game: We will not win again this season. All of our pitchers will develop leprosy, and have their arms fall off. Delmon Young's dismay at finally getting into the hitter's club only to discover that no one is there any more will result in a record number of tears shed in the dugout. And Gardy will suddenly discover Zen and the Art of Baseball Managing and not get kicked out again this season.

(Sad to say, I half believe the first one's going to happen)

Here we are...after losing more than we won on a home stand against the divisional bottom feeders, sitting well out of first place and playoff contention, all glimmers of hope fading away, and nothing, absolutely NOTHING seems to be going right for us any more.

The temptation here is to think of another way to pass the time, one which won't break our hearts each and every night, one that will uplift us and nurture us in a way we crazed bugs and cranks have come to expect from baseball. Perhaps pottery, or oriental gardening...

RESIST TEMPTATION!

Think of the faithful my friends. Think of the loyal souls at honestwagner.blogspot.com, who have endured losing season after losing season. Think of the old guy with the bottles of scotch here in Bowling Green who saw his beloved Tigers sulk their way to last place a year ago only to reemerge triumphant this year. And when all else fails, think of my old beloved Speech coach--Elizabeth Dillow--who lives and dies with the Cleveland Indians and literally lives in Washington DC's metro area. This means that she is "struggling to open the sports section this summer for all the doom and gloom glaring at me every morning." (her words, not mine)

We will not falter, we will not look askance, we will lower our expectations and pray for an absence of leprosy, we will be here, each and every day, with humorous observations, comical anecdotes, memories, wishes, imaginary conversations, an intrepid, undercover, canine reporter. And regardless of how this season ends--even if it is 45 straight losses and a Yankees championship--we will be here every step of the way, rooting, laughing, and loving the Twins.

We will be here till the (likely bitter) end. And we will be glad to see you when you stop by.

Love,

The Peanuts from Heaven

You know it's a bad night when...

a) we're losing so bad I write a post mid-game

b) Dick and Bert resort to discussing European Geography (No, Dick, Marseille is not near Germany)

c) Stinky and I are texting as a way to avoid watching the game

d) All of the Above

While there have been some nice things (Bobby Keppel rediscovering his old friend the strike zone--woohoo! Delmon Young playing well--DOUBLE WOOHOO!!!!) and we still have a chance, tonight's game has been, well let's just say it: Crapulent. But why? Well perhaps you remember this fellow.

Set--the multiheaded Egyptian god of Death and Evil who plagued us throughout the West Coast roadtrip and, after taking a three game break to attend the wedding of Linsday Lohan and Dark Lord Ba'al (during which we swept the White Sox), has returned to take a dump all over our pitching staff. Stinky believes that this is not true. That it is a godless world--devoid of Egyptian, Greek, Norse, even Asante deities--which plagues our team of late and that this accounts for our woes (she is actually in attendance tonight, so perhaps she can provide a first hand account, while I am left only to imagine)

But while we two may disagree this is a family affair--so we put it to you readers: Tell us what you think? What is ailing our boys in blue? Deism? Secularism? Barak Obama's Kenyan Birth Certificate? What? Inquiring minds want to know. And our bloggers* are willing to give you a kiss on the lips for the best answer.

File your answers below--we look forward to your suggestions

(*okay, only Merlin wants to kiss anyone on the lips--but still--he's adorable, so share your thoughts!)

Make or Break

Like Stinky, I too failed to watch most of the Twins games this weekend. Unlike Stinky, I was in the process of moving into a new apartment in a strange and alien place:

OHIO

(ominous music)

So yes, I was here right after our boys were smacked about by the Indians, and yes, I was here when the they were hosed by umpires in the Detroit Metro area. And yes, I am here equidistant from US Cellular, Comerica, and Progressive Field (well...not quite equidistant, but close enough to each to be inundated with White Sox, Tigers and Indians fans, but not Twins fans).

In much the same way, the Twins are about to be inundated with games: 16 in a row, in fact. And while most of these games are against the Royals, Indians and, Orioles (three of the losingest teams in baseball)--our record against anyone lately has been less than stellar. And while low expectations has worked in the past I think that resolve is required to weather the storm.

So, what we need is some good luck, some mojo, some fire in the belly. We need to not just play games close, not just play games well, we need to win if we want to make the post season, and we need to win a lot. Being surrounded by enemies is not the end of the world. You just have to fight back, stay tough, and endure.

I may be alone in a strange city, filled with fans of every team but mine. But I will not roll over, I will not give up. I'm in it till the bitter end--and my rearview mirror decoration confirms that.

Go Twins!

Not to beat the dead horse or anything, but....

This passage from Jim Caple's "The Devil Wears Pinstripes" describes, much more eloquently than I ever could, why I dislike the Yankees:

Sure, there is an undeniable pleasure in rooting for a team and in being able to look down on opposing fans with equal measures of superiorty and disdain. But that's also the Ruthian drawback in rooting for the Yankees (along with high ticket prices, overpriced concessions and crude neighbors). The true pleasure in sports comes not from simply winning but from watching a team overcome adversity to win in the end. The joy of sports is never the final destination, it's the journey. It's experiencing the highs and the lows, and appreciating those highs all the more because of the awful lows.
Yankees fans can't know that. Their team has been so successful, they are so rich and so stocked with talent, that anything less than a World Series victory is a complete disappointment. And by the same token, if they win, there is no real sense of accomplishment. ... Anyone can root for a team that wins all the time. The test of a real fan is whether you have the character to stick with your team through thick and thin.