Piggyback reporting...

Following on after K's brilliant analyses of our new trade for Everyday Eddie (I wholeheartedly endorse any game that involves mocking/bemusedly indulging one of our players), we must add that, in order to have Eddie in the pen, the Twins have to let Mike Lamb go. Peanuts from Heaven Inc. can now exclusively report the final minutes that "The Grizzled Prospector", Mike Lamb, spent as a member of the Twins organization.

After giving the rally monkey one final finger of disgust, the Twins players walked out of the stadium in Los Angeles or Anaheim or Mars or wherever the heck they were.

MORNEAU: Dang! I really thought we could get 3 out of 4!

MAUER: Darn! I really thought we would show that stupid Rally Monkey who's boss.

LAMB: Dag Nabbit! I really thought you fellers would let me get some playing time!!

ALL: [Sigh]

LAMB: Watch'all sighin' fer? Did another possum get away? D'yall wan' me ta cook ya up some rattlesnake vittles?

MAUER: No, Mike...no...we just thought you weren't...

LAMB: Weren't wha?

MORNEAU: Weren't going to make it up to Seattle with us.

LAMB: Shucks fellers, no need to fret...I jes' lovvvvvve Seattle! I get hits there that make me so gosh durn happy I jes' gotta dance!!!

ALL: [As Lamb begins to dance and blither incoherently] No...Mike...don't...

GARDY: Say Mike, how would you like to take a special route to Seattle?

LAMB: Hee-gee-heeee-hee-gee-heeee-hee-gee-WHAAAAAA?!

GARDY: I thought you might like to ride in my car...past some really great farms up state. Places you can run, and play...

ALL: And Dance

GARDY: As much as you want.

LAMB: Gorsh! Sign me up!! I'd do anything to get back on that dusty trail with you there skipper!

GARDY: Yeah...that's...great.

***LATER***

GARDY: Mike...Mike...Mike...please stop sticking your head out of the window.

LAMB: But it's fun! 'Sides, all the mayflies I'm a eatin' are good protein!

GARDY: Great-HEY! Look! Here's one of those fields

LAMB: Whoop-dee-whee-hee-hoohoohoooey!! 

[The car door opens and Lamb leaps out of it dancing about, giggling, and continuing his inane babble, Gardy looks out the window, smiles, sighs at all the lost jokes that I will never get to

 make at Mike Lamb's expense, then smiles at the fact that we don't have to endure his erratic offense, defense and facial hair, flattens the accelerator and zooms off towards Seattle. Lamb continues dancing/blathering to his little heart's content until he finds a whiskey spring and starts to wash himself in Jack Daniels.]

Happy Trails to You....

MORNEAU: Hey Joe, are you ready?
MAUER: *zips up duffel bag* Yep, all set. Man I can't believe we're going to be away for this long... At least we get to carpool! We can play fun road games, and do Mad Libs.
SPAN: Ooooh I love mad libs.
MAUER: Hey what's that in your bag? Is that.... a fluffy teddy bear?
SPAN: *shoves bear's head back in bag and quickly zips it shut* Hey you keep your opinions to yourself man.
MORNEAU: We're not judging... Hey where is little Nicky Punto? As soon as he gets here we can leave...
PUNTO: *huffing and puffing, hauling giant suitcase* Right here guys! Woooo let's hit the trail! LAMB: Weeee-higgerty! Time to hit the old dusty trail!
MAUER: No way dude, you're staying home. Someone has to chase the cyotes away. Jebus Nicky, that's the biggest suitcase I've ever seen. It's bigger than you are!
PUNTO: *shrugs* A guy's gotta have several pairs of shoes for an occasion like this.
MORNEAU: Well anyways, let's go. We'll just have to put Nicky's suitcase on top of Brendan Harris. We can't keep our buddy in LA waiting too long.
HARRIS: *look of extreme fear in eyes* ************************************************************
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
************************************************************
*Our friends pull up to a large, awesome-looking house in LA. Torii Hunter runs out to greet them*
TORII HUNTER: Hey guys, you made it!!! *gives Justin, Joe, and Nick big hugs*
BRENDAN HARRIS: Hi!!!!!!!!!! *gives Torii a huge bear hug*
TORII: Uh I don't even know you.
HARRIS: Right. Nobody does... *sigh*
MAUER: Man, we really miss you... we miss making fun of your girl-name, and the way you always crashed so gracefully into the wall and then got hauled out on a stretcher...but mostly, we miss your beautiful smile... I miss you almost as much as I miss patting Johan on the behind. TORII: *sad face* I miss you too, guys...which is why...it's too bad that now I have to destroy you.
ALL: ...huh?
TORII: I play for the Angels now. We have the best record in all of Major League Baseball, as of last night. It breaks my heart but I can't let you leave here alive. *whips out light saber*
ALL: AAAHHH!!!
*suddenly out of nowhere appears Delmon Young!*
YOUNG: DAHA!!! Supraction(TM)!!!!!!!!!
TORII: Woa!!! Where'd he .... how did.... a;slefkjqpo23ra;ldfkj!!!!

.......TO BE CONTINUED!!!

How will it end? Will our beloved Twinkies be destroyed on their journey, or will Delmon Young's SUPRACTION(TM) (or maybe Denard Span's ability to actually hit the ball and get on base) vanquish the Angels and their deadly Light Sabers once and for all? STAY TUNED!!!

Who's on first?

...GOOD QUESTION.
So it was a Sunday afternoon, kind of sunny and nice, and the Twins were having a pretty decent ball game. This, thought Mike Lamb, would be the perfect moment for an old prospector's jig about town, and what better audience than little Nicky Punto, all by his lonesome on second base.
MIKE LAMB: Hey there y'all, wanna see my jiggerty jig?
NICK PUNTO: Uh no... not really a good time man.
MIKE LAMB: Ar ya sure? Its a hee-hawin good time!
NICK PUNTO: Um maybe later. We're kinda in the middle of a game right now...
MIKE LAMB: Well shuks and tar-nation! Alright then I'll just gitalong back to -
...but it was too late. And poor little Nicky had to try to cover first, which isn't even technically his job. I mean, if Mike Lamb wasn't jigging around the bases WTF WAS HE EVEN DOING OVER THERE??? HOW DID WE END UP IN A POSITION WHERE OUR SECOND BASEMAN WOULD HAVE TO TRY TO PLAY FIRST BASE??? I FEEL LIKE I AM TAKING CRAZY PILLS...............................
Moral of the story: never give Justin Morneau the day off.
(I'm sorry, Justin, if you're reading this, but you should never, ever leave us again. Ever. Bad things happen when you do...)

The Clubhouse Insider

After two disappointing, soul-sucking defeats at the hands of the Seattle Faux Hippies, the Twins came into today's game needing a win, but lacking the energy to get it.

The mood was sombre. The music on Delmon Young's boombox was not (as it usually is) "The Final Countdown" but instead, "Suicide is Painless". Gardy the gnome left the players to think about their situation themselves, pushing his wheelbarrow of woe. Finally someone spoke.

"D'dj'y'all wan' me to do my Jig a Jubilee?" asked Grizzled Prospector Mike Lamb.

"Not really, Mike," said Brendan Harris.

"Well too bad! It's the best thing ever! Wheeeheehee!!"

"But Mike, we've lost the last two games...we just don't think a dance of jubilee is appropriate." complained Harris, as Lamb continued to dance manically {"Hie-chi-cha! Hie-chi-chaaa-ha-hoooey!!"}

"Come on guys!" said Denard Span, rising from his chair "Mike Lamb's right..."

"You think his Jig of Jubilee is the best thing ever?" asked Harris, while Lamb continued to dance, {Yip-a-hip-a-doo-wa-french-dip!!}.

"God no," said Denard, "But we aren't going to play well if we sit here feeling sad. We won't score runs if we're too busy sobbing to run. We won't get Raul Ibanez out if we throw him beach balls to hit."

"But Denard!" cried Glen Perkins, "How can we go on? Livan is no longer here to ease my pain, and make me mojitos, and give me massages while he eats the delicious pies that my namesake restaurant chain makes."

"Glen! You will love again! Ask Dennys Reyes, I'm sure he'd like some pie" (Reyes nodded vigorously) "Besides, there's more to pitching than pie. And there's more to life than the fun we've had and the game's we've won. You've got to think about today, and more importantly, tomorrow!

"Let me tell you all my dream. My dream for today. My dream for tomorrow. My dream for everyday!!

"Today we will hit! We will run! We will throw! and we will catch! When we do all of these things, we will win! And as we win, we will celebrate! And as we celebrate we will win! As we celebrate wins and win celebrations we will excel and make ourselves great. So great, that one day, I will open a chain of stores that sell high quality home improvement goods at low prices! My name will be synonymous with saving big money and greatness! For that is what our organization is all about! Saving big money and greatness!!

The clubhouse was quiet for a moment, well, as quiet as it could be with Mike Lamb continuing his Jig of Jubilee {"yachee-chacha-parchee-zee-zee-YAHOOTZEE-YAHA!"}. Then a slow clap began from the locker of Brendan Harris, then went to Nick Blackburn, and spread slowly around the clubhouse until they raced onto the field and played their way to victory.

Today, the Twins saved big money with Denard.

Hmmm...

Okay, another noticed element in these losses. 

Mike Lamb has hit, and hit well.

This we like. (After all his triple helped us win on Sunday, and permits me to continue using my insipid prospector voice)

But perhaps, Mike Lamb, your celebration jig is more of a distraction than an inspiration.

So if you could just save that until you score, or get to third base, or we win...all will be greatful.

Just throwing that out there.

The Battle Continues

Continuing our Epic Saga of the Twins V.s. the Four Pitchers of The Apocalypse, when last we left our heroes they had just had their bacon saved by Matt Macri and Craig Monroe from the sneak attack proffered by Randy Johnson.

Macri came hobbling into camp supported by Monroe.

"Craig?" the valley resounded.

"Hey, I brought some oak smoked bacon I found on the trail," Monroe said.

"Oh, I've been looking for that,"said bacon conisseur Justin Morneau. Just then, grizzled old man Mike Lamb came into the Twins camp, his jittery legs and antiquated mannerisms belying his inner madness. 

"Jeeeeeeeeee-hosephat there fellers!" his whiney high pitched voice twittered, "Brandon

 Webb's a-ridin' into to town vowin' vengeance on whatever crummy crooker croaker cracked the crawdad of Crandy Cronson!!"

Only Mike Redmond, himself grizzled but civilized by regular appearances in the line-up, understood and tried to explain to Lamb, "Matt's hurt, and Craig...hey, where did Craig go?" (For Craig had vanished into the tree line again, for he was swift and stealthy and beginning to go through acorn withdrawal.)

"Gee-heeheeheeheheheeeeeee!" Lamb cackled, "t'aint no kinda rhubarbary gonna distract Webby-woo! He's the horseman a war...don't ya know?"

"What are we gonna do fellas?" cried little Brendan Harris.

"We'll do what Craig would do in this situation," replied the little heard and less listened to Delmon Young

"We're going to use acorns to fashion codpieces for ourselves?" asked Macri between gasps of pain.

"No, we'll use surprise, and distraction: WE'LL USE SURPRACTION!!"

"I prefer Distrise," Macri said meekly.

"Too late, I already said Supraction, so Supraction's what it's got to be."

***

Later that day, Brandon Webb came racing into the Domey Dale the Twins called home, growling in his grueling growl "Grrrrahhh grrrrngggg ghgggrrraaangh!" (Which is, in Arizonian: "Where is the opposing team of batters, so that I might destroy them.")

But Webb was much distressed for the Dale was empty: "Guh, grung guhgrrrraah!" ("Well, that's a surprise!"). Then did a ball shoot from a near by wood into the sky, and the ball was the same color as the sky and as Webb followed the trajectory of the ball he was much amazed to see that the ball could indeed have been the sky, or a cloud or anything at all.

And Webb said, "Gunh, grung guggarangh" ("Wow, that's a distraction!") And as he followed the flight of the ball he did not see Alexi Cassilla and Brian Buscher sneak up on either side of him, bat's poised and ready and after the ball landed at his feat the two batters swung simultaneously on Webb's head, thumping him mightily and besting another pitcher of the apocolypse.

Standing over the prone form of another opposing pitcher Young was heard to say: "That's Supraction, sucka!"

And thus was the second pitcher of the apocalypse bested.