You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Optimistic

As busy and occasionally frantic as I am at this point of the school year, I always make time to track the Twins' scores. Sometimes it's a quick peek at last night's result, sometimes it's a giddy highlight reel review, sometimes it's a flipping through radio channels hoping to hear details and analyses. Even in the depths of the team's worst crap-itude, it's nice to have that brief check in as part of the day.

But of course, I prefer it when they're winning. Probably too much so. And it has not escaped my attention that the Twins are at .500 right now, nor that they are one game behind the 2nd Wild Card spot. This, while nice, is also dangerous. Unless the Twins I expected at the start of the year (you know, the woeful-pitching, incompetent-hitting, bad-luck-bedeviled, please-god-let-us-only-lose-89-games-this-year Twins we were all expecting) turn up soon, I may actually become optimistic.

So I try to keep myself calm by slowly negating all the positives of the team so far this year:

1. We're more patient! With a .335 OBP that has us ranked 2nd in the AL. Yeah, but...a lot of that has to do with the pitching the team is facing. And the more pitchers realize that they're pitching to Aaron Hicks and Eduardo Escobar rather than Denard Span and JJ Hardy, they're more likely to attack, so that will drop and soon.
2. The pitching doesn't totally suck this year! Yeah, but...it would be kind of amazing if they were worse than they had been lately. The starters are the third worst in the league at allowing runs, and the bull pen has the second most lost leads in the whole league. So hold on hard to Phil Hughes while he lasts, it won't stick around.
3. They don't quit, and we actually have some clutch hitting this year! Yeah, but...clutch play isn't a real thing, just like "grit", and "stick-to-it-iveness" aren't things. Besides they are below average at driving in or advancing runners in scoring position with less than 2 outs...if you can't do that, and you get lucky enough with two outs, then whoop-de-dang-doo.
4. We've made do despite a bunch of injuries! Yeah, but...only for six weeks. It's real nice that Jason Kubel hasn't been a disaster, and Chris Colabello's been heart warming, and Casey Fien/Brian Duensing have effectively shut down others, and Kurt Suzuki has been strangely effective. But none of them have a track record that bodes well for the long term; worse still, the minor league calvary (Misters Buxton, Sano, Arcia, Rosario et al) are in varying degrees of pain and unlikely to save the day any time soon.
5. We've held tough against the best teams in the league! Yeah, but...uh, wait, really? Yeah we have a winning record against the AL East and the Tigers. But umm, interleague... Yankees...oh screw it...

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)

Throwing in the towel...literally

Well... I don't really know what to say about any of this. So maybe I just won't say much.

Morneau went 0 for 4.
We lost by 10 runs.
Toronto fans threw towels at us. Seriously. Towels. Who throws towels??? AND why do you even need to throw anything at all when you are winning by a large margin. I rest my case.

It also doesn't help that we are starting off our season with what is arguably the cruelest road trip ever designed. Toronto, where we always inexplicably suck, followed by the Yankees, who we always inexplicably suck against no matter where we're playing. We could be playing on Mars and we would still choke against the Yankees.

You know it's bad when the announcers resort to talking about how great it is that tomorrow will be a "nice day" (aka 40 degrees and possibly not rainy). Le sigh. Let's move on.

Towels though? Really???

How it could still go horribly, horribly wrong

While most other Twins blogs are concentrated on roster debates, rotation scheduling and the never-ending debate: "rest the starters or go for home field", we heavenly peanuts are remaining cautious. After enduring two years worth of nail gnawing playoff intrigue we won't celebrate until the fat lady has sung, showered, slipped into street clothes and slammed down a post-performance Pink Squirrel (this kind, not this kind...though that would be entertaining).

While I know it's unlikely, we could still lose the central. If the entire team assumes they have it won they might succumbs to "Glee Fever", forfeiting the rest of the regular season in order to practice their dance routines and medley homage to the music of Poison and 2 Live Crew. And if the White Sox win 12 in a row while our plucky underdogs are striving to triumph over the Yankees Men's Chorus (a pack of animatronic Derek Jeters performing perfectly synchronized renditions of Cotton Eyed Joe), then we'll be out of the playoff picture entirely.

It's close, very close, and as long as we avoid the temptation to "Gleek Out" I think we'll be okay...though it would be great to watch that medley homage after we clinch the division. Keep the music buried deep inside you Twins! (At least for a couple more days)

P.s. Big thanks to the BOOF! for beating the White Sox last night. We owe you big fella!

And still...it's not over

One more game in Chicago, but I refuse to let myself get too excited. I could make bold proclamations, furious statements of aggrandizement which say to all the world: KNEEL BEFORE MAUER, FOOLISH FANS OF FOOLDOM!!!! But that just wouldn't be right.

Instead I will once again advocate a default position of intense trepidation. Never forget that terror strikes the moment you least suspect it, as the cinematic classic Mega Shark V.s. Giant Octopus teaches us:

Sure, many people say that we have the division locked up, but if Mega Shark jumps out of Lake Michigan and eats the Twins charter plane tonight, then we'd probably have to forfeit the season to the White Sox...so you never know. All I'm saying is don't get too confident just yet.

P.s. Here's an article from the New York Times to offer still more proof of what we've long suspected...The Yankees are Villains.

Simmer down now

I have to go dive into the library and work on thesis things for the next several hours (thereby earning my baseball fix tonight) but I just want to say, to all those pundits and opinionators who are proclaiming the Twins a great team, a playoff team, a team that might sneak up on the Yankees & Rays and will have no problem with the White Sox:

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stop it! Don't jinx us! Where's some wood to knock on? Oh, right my desk! [spends next minute knocking on wood...winces in pain... then continues]

The White Sox are a great and noble foe, a team that could certainly make a run and has definitely played better than Texas of late. So clearly this series will be tough. To exacerbate this toughness let's all practice low expectations and anticipate the eventuality that Ozzie Guillen's Tweets will morph into ravenous birds who peck out our hitter's eyes while defecating on our pitchers heads. Then, like a blinded/poo-headed herd of cyclopes, the Twins will stumble through the midwest before falling into Lake Michigan and drowning.

As long as that doesn't happen, I'll be happy, and so should you baseball pundits!

Another victory for low expectations

After what Stinky so accurately described as Thursday night's crapfest, we held a heavenly peanuts confab at which we discussed just how badly this weekend's series with the Rangers would be. The general consensus was that Target Field would probably blow up, and that flying monkeys would probably be implemented at some point (to tear apart the straw man known as JJ Hardy).

This was all before we discovered that Matt Fox was going to start the game. For those who don't know Matt Fox's story: he is currently looking for work after the end of a 6 year stint on the epic sci-fi series Lost. And despite an Emmy nomination for Best Actor in a drama, he appears to be at an impasse in his career...so, reasoned the Twins, we might as well use this untested rookie to start a crucial September game against a division leading rival. (After learning of this, we Peanuts merely hoped that a few players escaped the vortex of suck swirling around Target Field.)

And yet! Things turned out rather well...Matt Fox (and his trademark heavy breathing) made it 5 innings, the offense churned out some clutch hits and we won the game.

But before we all throw our hands in the air, and wave them about like we just don't care...remember, the lower your expectations are, the better surpassing them will be. We still don't expect to win a game, and remain concerned about explosions, vortexes and flying monkeys. So Twins, just stop those three things from happening, and you'll have a happy pair of Peanuts--and happy peanuts are delicious peanuts.

Feeling Guilty

This is Zack Grienke--or actually it's Zack Grienke's head photoshopped onto the body of a Thundercat for my own amusement.

I did this photoshop because 1) it amused me, 2) the Thundercats are the coolest alien/animal/action hero cartoon characters ever, 3) Zack Grienke's about the only Royal who is talented enough to merit association with the Thundercats.

Unfortunately for the Kansas Citizens, Zack Grienke's awesomeness, so apparent and awe inspiring last year have been in woefully short supply this year as you might be able to tell from the fact that the Twins made Mr. Grienke and all his little powder blue buddies run home crying last night. We hope that Greinke's excellent pitching will return soon...preferably when he has to play against the White Sox...and the Tigers...and really anyone who's not us.

Now, we could spend the rest of this blog talking about how awesome Mauer is, or opining on Delmon Young's .427 batting average this month, or pointing out that Danny Valencia may secretly be Batman, but that would be gloating. And the last time we gloated after a victory bad things happened--bad things called "losses to the Cleveland Indians". So we will keep shtum for our own good.

But, in addition to covering our own butts, we want to be nice to those teams who are a little unhappy right now--and there are a lot of them in the AL Central. The Indians, deprived of their King; the Royals, deprived of their ace; the Tigers deprived of their hits by Matt Garza; the White Sox...okay we don't want to be nice to the White Sox...but to everybody else: "we are sorry things are hard right now. But they will get better, you will be happier and no matter what, we still like you. Now how about a hug? What? You don't want to hug this blog? Okay...I can respect that...[awkward silence, cough]"

Anyway! Well done Twins, now you play nice with those poor boys in Kansas City.

It could have been worse...

It also could have been better.

Listening to the game last night, Stinky and I only needed about half-an-inning to think: "This isn't good", and only another half-inning to go: "Yup! Definitely not good". What with everybody still on a mental vacation we were fully prepared for doom, unavoidable DOOM!

Then things got better, a rally, a two out rally no less! Single after single after single, with even smokey chugging around third to score, and a Joe Mauer double to put the haters in their place.

Of course...then...sigh...

So perhaps we should be glad that we lost by only one run rather than four + as we were expecting in the early going. We have long been proponents of lowered expectations, they are much easier to surpass than lofty ones, not everyone can be valedictorian after all, but lots of people can graduate without over dosing on paste!

So tonight we encourage the Minnesota Twins to avoid eating paste...we know it's delicious, but we just bet that Ozzie Guillen has filled it with microbes which diminish hand-eye coordination. Keep your eye on the prize Twins...not the paste.

Our Dream (Gah!! Pt. 2)

Let us not dwell on what happened this afternoon. Let us instead imagine a wonderful thing that would make all the evil of the stadium which shall not be named fade into nothingness.

Imagine, if you will, a typical sight: a demon in pin stripes trotting gamely around a dirt track, smiling broadly in acknowledgement of the nefarious deed they have just committed. We've seen this several dozen times before, it is what usually happens to the Twins in the Bronx. We stand there, frozen like a bunch of Greek demi-gods faced with Medusa, frozen in time and space, wondering what the f* just happened to our awesome team.

But in our imagination there's a different ending. As the lap comes to a conclusion, our catcher, whomever he may be, says: "F-this noise!" and cocks his right arm, then follows through with a massive haymaker, clocking the pinstriped hoser and sending him crumpling to the ground crying out for his mama.

Suddenly the spell is lifted. From 3rd base to Right Field our boys suddenly realize: "hey! These guys aren't deamons or medusa's or anything remotely frightening. They're just smarmy, smug punkasses. If we beat them up we'll take away their power!"

And so, en masse, the Minnesota Twins (in our imagination) grab bats and chase down the team which shall not be named. They throw fastballs at their shin bones and cackle like Yosemite Sam saying: "dance you cotton pickin' varmint, DANCE!!!" They use their bats as cudgels and rampage through the clubhouse swinging their weaponry like marauders of yore. They wage an epic war of brilliance and awesomery and aren't even punished for it because, let's face it, the pinstriped punkasses had it coming, and every baseball fan outside of the Bronx would love to see this happen.

This is our dream--more violent than most, but that's what the Yankees do, they bring out the worst in us (also, I'm taking mefloquine, which doesn't help). It could never happen because our team's just not that violent (I mean, seriously, Cuddy, doing anything that wasn't adorable? Not possible). We just can't stand to see the defeats happen over and over and over again, it's like rewinding Bambi to watch his mom get shot time after time after time.

Today we fully expect that the Twins will be shot, and Ron "Bambi" Gardenhire will be forced to fend for himself in the scary, scary forest. (And the whole world weeps a single tear in sadness)

Gah! Pt. 1

Another day, another seeming opportunity to end our curse, another Yankpire victory.

This morning Stinky and I discussed how bad it would get today.

Stinky: "We'll either lose by one or two runs in another late inning collapse or we'll be behind from the beginning and never come back"

Scruffy: "We'll probably have a couple run lead and then the heavens will part and A-rod will descend riding on a centaur as a chorus of hoochie-mamas proclaim his greatness and we will be so blinded by this that our faces will melt and we'll have to forfeit the game."

We're prepared for the worst. BRING IT YANKEES

And so it begins...

The Twins are in the Bronx to play the world champion Yankees tonight, and it will mark a much needed worthy adversary for the Twins and a true test of their mettle, but even if they lose (which they probably will) we should be proud of the fact that unlike the Yankees we are not blood sucking drains on society.

After all, the Twins have inspired many creative/inventive characters on this blog: Grizzled Prospector Mike Lamb, Master Librarian R. A. Dickey, Dread Pirate Joe Nathan, Chairman Joe Mauer, Carlos Gomez (who still seems like a figment of our imagination), and of course the Nefarious Dr. Cakeburn. The Yankees view such shenanigans as unbefitting to their hoity toity status as "the winningest baseball team ever" but really they're afraid that the truth will get out.

Consider the woman pictured at left. She discovered the truth, and then vanished...why? Because she discovered the horrible secret, the horrible secret revealed below.

Girl: "There's something odd about you and your friends"

Boy: "...think so?"

Girl: "You all hit the ball harder than any other team."

Boy: "yeah..."

Girl: "You run faster than any other team."

Boy: "Yeah..."

Girl: "Your stadium is littered with free agent corpses."

Boy: "So what?"

Girl: "Are you a..."

Boy: "Say it...say what you know to be true!"

Girl: "A Yankee?!?"

Boy: "Not just a yankee, a yankee vampire!"

Girl: "no...."

Boy: "A Yankee vampire with endorsement contracts!"

Girl: "Noooo"

Boy: "A Yankee vampire who sparkles in the sun! BEHOLD MY ROBERT PATTISON BRAND BODY GLITTER!!!"

Girl: "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

Friends don't let friends sit in meadows with Yankpires.

God Speed Twins, we're sure that you will probably blow up in a fiery hellstorm of bats, balls, and CC Sabathia's cheeseburgers. Anything better than that and we'll be happy.

And in case you need something to cheer you up here's Orlando Hudson on, among other things: Delmon and Nick's special relationship, Cuddyer's butt, the Lifetime Movie Network and why Kevin Slowey isn't as cool as him.

GAAAH! The Sequel

Big game today, big, big, bigbig, BIG game. Twins/Tigers...the (possibly) last game in the dome...Baker V. Porcello..."Gardy the Gnome" V. "Leyland the Craggy Faced"...the division title on the line, a trip to the playoffs on the line, one of the most stunning comebacks of all time on the line.

And where will I be?

A library and class--reading sociology of education, medieval drama criticism, multicultural education research, and then discussing Marxist theory prior to giving a presentation on traditional African educational systems--all this, without MLB.Tv, or cable, or a cellphone that does things other than make phone calls.

That's literally where I will be. Figuratively, I'll be in jittery, anxious torment, waiting to call my co-blogger in Arms for an update.

I could chest thump, denounce the Tigers and all they stand for, but I'd rather shake hands and come out fighting--I also would like to practice low expectations one last time:

Elated over their victory the drunken Minnesota Vikings fans will camp out on the metrodome turf until game time then growl angrily at the Twins that "this is our home now! Our sweet sweet Mall of America Metrodome!" Then we will have to forfeit the game, while Carlos Gomez cries fiercely announces he hates us and is running away from home, and all the other players quietly shuffle out the dome for the last time.

--That was depressing, but that's low expectations for you--just don't depress me Twins and I'll be a happy guy.....and that might be the most obvious thing I've ever said in my life.

Hold on to your proverbial horses

This is not to promote lax grips on literal horses mind you, this is just to remind us one and all that as awesome as we are currently playing we still have a long uphill climb to reenter the post-season, if we do it at all.

Much must be done, balls must be thrown, hit and caught--or not caught (when we hit them {teeehee, point and laugh at Carlos Quentin}). We must leave Chicago, venture to the surprisingly dangerous Kansas City (just ask the Tigers about them), and then head on into Detroit for what seems to be the most important thing in the history of important things (knocking invention of fire down to number two).

The optimist in me says we can cruise over everyone, the cautious optimist in me says that we can win enough to get the job done, the pessimist in me says: "DEATH! EVERYTHING IS DEATH!!!!" Which is why, perhaps realism is a good attitude: "It will be hard, we will do our best, and the chips will fall where they may."

Winning is great, but--in the spirit of low expectations: we here at PFH, Inc. fervently anticipate that all that was once good will turn foul...we will not only lose, but Bud Selig will decide to strip us from other the wins until we have a worse record than the Milwaukee Brewers. Additionally, steak will now taste like ashes, wine will taste like warm, flat Fresca, and the sun will now be called: Yankee Stadium Solaris.

If one or any of these things does not happen, I'll be very happy--but remember, please keep your horses on a leash--it will keep your dogs in line.

Ummmmmm.....

So, I don't want to jinx this or anything...but this is precisely what my mother predicted would happen...even after we got word that our big bad Canadian first baseman would be out for the rest of the season.

This raises the question--at what point did knitting ability turn my mom into the Oracle at Delphi...or at least, the Oracle at Lake Harriet?

Okay, deep breath, and Loooooooooooooooowwwww expectations. The Tigers will somehow manage to crash their plane into the Metrodome, thereby winning the division by default. (On the positive side, this will save us from having to endure more Brett Favre shenanigans.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Oakland A's

(Stinky is working on an excellent post, until she puts it up, here's this year's final Enemies blog)

Reasons we should dig the rancid blackened hearts of the Oakland Atheltics out with a rusty ice cream scoop:

1. Backwards ass lucky punks: The worst losses of the year have always seemed to involve Oakland. How have the A's bested us this year? LUCK. Blind, simple, clueless, DOOODAH LUCK!!!! Random happenstances, complete fluke pitches, blown calls at the plate--they haven't done this to anyone else mind you...just us. To hell with them, no mercy, none! *55 Loathing Points*
2. Miserly skinflints and Media Darlings: The A's are supposedly going to be made into a movie, because, after all, they win on a small budget! (Only....they don't....because we've kicked their butts in overall record for the last three years and gotten zip credit for it) The A's don't spend much money, they don't necessarily spend much money well, but when they do they get book deals and movies--while we get oblivious looks and mispronounced names on Sports Center. POO ON YOU OAKLAND!! *68 Loathing Points*
3. Empty: here's an interesting fact. When the A's lose, no one turns up to their games...when we lose we still pack them in. Hmm...which fan base is more loyal, and thus more deserving of reward? {HINT: It stars with an "M" and ends with an "innesota Twins"} *19 Loathing Points*
4. Steroids: Oh yeah, and when the A's were doing really really well...did that have anything to do with the fact that the leading steroid lab in the country was in their own backyard and used by many of their own players....hmmm...I wonder....*72 Loathing Points*

Reasons we should dig out the rancid blackened hearts of the Oakland A's through anesthetized procedures in a cleanly hospital.

1. Nobody gives it to you: Say what you will about them, they don't quit, which is kind of admirable for a team that has absolutely no chance of ever winning this year. Good on 'em, but why can't they do that in Detroit and Chicago? *-57 Loathing Points*
2. The Law: If we did all the horrible terrible no good very bad things that I would like to do to the A's...we would surely be put in jail, where it's hard to win any baseball games at all. *-65 Loathing Points*

Okay, I'm just going to say this--I don't care about the post season any more, I'm not worried about awards or batting title races--I just want to beat the snot out of the A's ONE TIME this year, just ONE TIME and I will call this season a success, 9 to 0, 16 to 1, 22 to -3 whatever.

Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 92 Loathing Points

(+63 Loathing Points from Last Year)

Punishment: Clean up undergraduate vomit in Bowling Green Ohio for an entire weekend.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Texas Rangers

Reasons we should crush, annhilate and cut up the Rangers as ancient Egyptians cut up Hippopatomi to pay homage to the Great God Horus

1. Our critical figures: After we played the Rangers the first time, terrible, horrible, no good very bad things happened. After we played them the second time, wonderful excellent delightfully magical things happened. They have an intense effect upon us--let us hope for a repeat of the second thing. *9 Loathing Points*
2. WE'RE THE PLUCKY ONES!!: Every year there's a team whose rejuvenation is a source of inspiration to multitudes of baseball fans. Rays & Brewers, Rockies & Indians, Tigers, Astros, Marlins, Royals, whatever...This year it's the Rangers--which is fine--except for the fact that we are always there too...and we don't get the same respect. *28 Loathing Points*
3. Ron Washington--Gardy Enemy #1: Speaking of the whole plucky thing. Every year Gardy keeps us over .500 with spit and duct tape, and every year a flash in the pan manager with sudden success beats him to Manager of the Year...this year it looks like Ron Washington will win that title. While he's probably a nice man, he's the wrong Ron. *41 Loathing Points*

Reasons to just bore the bejeesus out of the Rangers like ancient historicaly play texts bore me.

1. It's in our best interests: Okay--right now we're just starting to get back into the playoff race--IF we can stay in it (which we probably can't) we would be the worst division winner to go...which means we would play either the winner of the AL East (Yankees) or the AL West (Angels). BUT! IF the Rangers pass the Angels, AND the Angels stay ahead of the Red Sox THEN! We would play the Rangers in the first round! And we could win for sure then!! Also...THEN the curvature of the earth would change, a seismic whole would open up around lake Michigan, Ohio and Minnesota would suddenly be next to eachother and I could come home to see the people I love and watch playoff games!!! *-1 point--for sheer fantastical beauty*
2. Cesspool on the Potomac: as our fellow franchise in exile from Washington we're happy to share an alumnus relationship with the Rangers, and will be happy to share that with the Nationals in 15 years when they move to Havana. *-16 Loathing Points*
3. Bert: He was a Ranger once upon a time. *-27 Loathing Points*

Final Loathe-o-Meter Rating: 34 Loathing Points

(+3 from last year)

Punishment: All Country Music Stations are Now 24-Hour-a-Day Enya stations)

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

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!

DIE ZOBERFLOUTE!!!

After the greatness of Tuesday, there was much sadness last night--though fortunately we at Peanuts from Heaven were spared the pain of the Cisco Kid and Master Librarian's evening o' pain, by attending the Metropolitan Opera's production of the Magic Flute.

Which, naturally, got me thinking about how the production corresponds to our series in Cleveland.

Think of it: We, handsome prince Twininos, are traumatized by an evil serpent named Kendry Morales. But then! We are offered a golden opportunity to lead a better life, a holier life, a life with a winning percentage over .500...if only we crush, humiliate and destroy the Cleveland Indians, or so we are informed by The Queen of the Night--who looks eerily like Grady Sizemore.

So, we, along with a man dressed as bird (either Puntageno, or Papagogo--I can't decide which I prefer) race off to save the Queen of the Night's daughter (PaWin-a) from the dastardly Shin-Rastoo Choo...and succeed with startling ease.--Thus endeth game 1

But things are not that simple. Shin-Rastoo Choo admits that he is going to provide us with tests and tribulations, but that the vengeance and anger instilled in our heart is the result of Queen of the Night--Grady Sizemore's deception.

Confused we meander through the bowels of Shin-Rastoo Choo's Temple, much to the detriment of PaWin-a--thus endeth game 2

That leaves today to be game three--I do hope that we shall over come both Queen of the Night Grady Sizemore's machinations and triumph in reason and virtue over Shin-Rastoo Choo.

That said, I will settle for Nick Punto or Carlos Gomez in a bird suit.