To break the Tension...

Here's a special fairy tale, concocted by we loyal Peanuts from Heaven to explain the strange but true happenings at Comerica Park yesterday.

Once upon a time, the noble kingdom of Twinnesota was locked in an epic struggle with the equally noble kingdom of Detriger.

The Twinnesotans and the Detrigers fought one another tooth and nail and hair follicle to an epic stand still, and though it seemed at times that one land would surely triumph over the other, it never seemed to go as planned.

On the day of the final battle, the King of the Twinnesotans--Gardy the Gnome, called upon his troops to rally, resolve and prevail over the Detrigers. He sent into the fray Scottius the Baby-Faced, who, confronted with such an imposing enemy force began to hurl his arsenal of weapons wildly, confusedly, bouncing far away from the enemy just as often as it whizzed by their ears.

Finally, Scottius the Baby-Faced did hit Sir Marcus the Surly. Which neither Marcus the Surly, nor King Lelyand the Craggy-faced appreciated. "Grrrr," said Marcus the Surly. "[inaudible mumble/spitting of tobacco]" said King Leyland the Craggy-Faced.

For this reason did Sir Marcus the Surly charge towards the Twinnesotan roguish hero Orlando Calrissian the CDLXVIIth (his progenitor comes from a galaxy far away and a long, looooong time ago, remember?)

Sayeth Orlando Calrissian CDLXVII: "Dude, WTF?"

Sayeth Sir Marcus the Surly: "grrr..."

Sayeth Scottius the Baby-Faced: "My previous pain might have been inflicted by accident, but rest assured Sir Marcus, my next near miss will be intentional!"

Sayeth Sir Marcus the Surly: "double grr..."

Then did all calm down upon the battle field, for surely two such awesome teams filled with neither Yankees nor Dodgers nor be-hosed teams of either Snowy or Crimison-shade should be such enemies. It would be stupid to continue such mewlish, cranky-pants-esque behavior...so the battle was joined again, politely.

Until the Prettiest Princess in all of Twinnesota emerged from the pen of bulls to enter the fray. King Gardy the Gnome was an open minded man and did not consider Princess Jose Mijares to be any less able a warrior than Scottius the Baby-Faced or Orlando Calrissian CDLXVII. But unbeknownst to King Gardy, Scottius or even Orlando, the Pretty Pretty Princess was highly enamored of Orlando Calrissian. The pain nearly inflicted upon him, caused great rage to burn with in her pretty pretty princess heart, and so she decided to try and punish the former Twinnesotan now Detriger warrior: Sir Opie the Goofy Lookin'.

This did not make the Detrigers happy. "octuple grrr" Said Sir Marcus the Surly. "Golly gee, that sure wasn't nice!" said Sir Opie the Goofy Lookin'. "[Inaudible profanity/tobacco spitting]" said King Leyland the Craggy-Faced.

"Oh, F* Bomb" Said Delmondo the Magical. For you see, Delmondo knew of Pretty Princess Mijares' love of Orlando Calrissian, and Delmondo also knew of the debt of honor that all decent people owe other decent people when somebody goes totally insane. Delmondo the Magical would have to sacrifice himself to the Detrigers because of Pretty Princess Mijares mad affections.

Sure enough Sir Jeremy the-guy-I-can't-come-up-with-an-adjective-for-because-he-just-looks-too-bland, did indeed inflict great pain upon Delmondo the Magical. Which made Delmondo the Magical burn with the desire to inflict great pain upon the Pretty Princess Jose Mijares, which led to confusion amongst the Detrigers, and noble King Gardy the Gnome's response of: "sigh....heavy sigh...."

So, to all you Tigers fans who read our blog, know this--we are sorry, that was stupid. We still kind of hope you lose--but if you win, 'sokay, you deserve it.

The bad, the good, and the beautiful

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

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

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

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

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

Ladies, start your drooling.

See...

Have faith and you shall be rewarded my friend.

Today's reward came in the form of Opie Everett:

EVERETT: Golly, Mr. Young!! We sure could use a win!!

YOUNG: Yeah...and none of us Florida guys seem like we can do it.

EVERETT: Whaddya mean, Mr. Young?

YOUNG: Well...Brendan and I played here, and Denard and Buscher and Boof--

EVERETT: Ya mean His Grand High Boof-ity-ness?

YOUNG: Uh...yeah...anyway they grew up here, but none of us have been awesome enough to win a game here.

EVERETT: Maybe we could use some of that dirty word you taught me before?

YOUNG: Supraction?

EVERETT: [tee-hee]

YOUNG: Yeah...but...I'm not in the game so my Supraction skills are limited.

EVERETT: [tee-hee] I'm in the game, can I use my Supraction [tee-hee] skills?

YOUNG: What do you think would be Supractalicious?

EVERETT: How about if I ...mumblewumblefumbleGumblewumble...[tee-hee]

And so it was that Adam Everett placed a Psychotic Latvian Larvae in the ball so that when Evan "Golden Boy" Longoria threw it, it skipped away from the first baseman, then was thrown back in and bounced away from everyone, getting Adam a triple on a ball hit approximately 49 feet. Best of all the next bunt from Carlos Gomez (which may or may not have contained a Psychotic Latvian Larvae) brought in Everett and gave the Twins a lead they would not relinquish.

Upon his return to the dugout, Delmon Young was heard to say, "you have done well my young Paduwan, quite well." 

Sweet Supraction's Bad@$$$$$ Song

The Twins dugout was quiet before the 9th inning of tonight's game against Tampa Bay.

Something wasn't quite right. The Twins had lost 4 straight games. They had been villified and pilloried by the ESPN (at least I assume so, they kept talking about soft hitting centerfielder "Chris" Gomez...so its either us or the Tinnesota Mins of Bizarro World). And though there was something comforting about the grim, gray, greasy Tropicana Field roof...they had been unable to find a solution to Evan "Desperate Housewife In Training" Longoria.

"You know..." said Denard Span, "this sucks."

"This totally sucks," said Alexi Casilla.

"This sucks like....Sucks the Sucky Duck" said Delmon Young.

"Guys my ears!!" exclaimed Opie Everett.

"Hey! Opie!!" shouted Alexi, "You haven't been in to hit in...like...ever!"

"Yeah...well...ever since my buddy the grizzled prospector went to a farm upstate, I thought that you fellas didn't want us old timey mannered kinda guys."

"Sure we like to have you around--"

"Then why do you use such poopy-mouths? I mean...jee-willikers!! I bet your malted milks taste like a hens doodie with them there sour tounges in your heads. If my momma ever heard me talk like that I'd be tasting a bar of Ivory soap for months!"

"Wow...no one would believe you're a professional baseball player."

"Yeah..." said Delmon, "no one...."

The light had started to burn in Delmon's eyes again, and after a quick huddle with the happy garden gnome, a supraction-tastic game plan had come into place.

A walk, a home run from Alexi, a double out of the centerfielder's glove, a walk and then Opie got a chance to bat, and asked Delmon for some last minute advice.

"Golly Gee, Mr. Young," Opie said, "thanks for getting me in the game!!"

"No problem, Opie--"

"Adam"

"Whatever. Do you remember the plan?"

"Uh..."

"You don't hit well..."

"I don't?"

"So they think you'll bunt..."

"They will?"

"But, suddenly, you'll swing away and stroke a double to left field to give us the lead and help us win the game!!"

"Super-deeeeeeeeeee-duper!! I sure hope it happens the way you planned Mr. Young."

"Of course it will, Op--uh--Adam, it's SUPRACTION (TM)"

"MY EARS!!"

"It's not a bad word. It's surprise and distraction!"

"THE DEVILS A DISTRACTION THE DEVILS A DISTRACTION!!"

"But you're a SU-praction..a...SUPER-action!"

"A Super-deeeeeeeeee-duper-action?"

"A Super-dee-duper-supraction!!"

"YIPEE!!"

And so it happened in the way Delmon Young forsaw (except for the attempted stolen base, that would have worked but at the last second the dove which normally soars out of Delmon's sleeves was eaten by the snake he normally hides in his helmet). Because, look at that face...do you really think that man could ever hit the ball that hard?

How I Acquired my Horns

(no... get your mind out of the gutter)

It just so happens that my Smelly Partner in Blogging/Crime/other various activities works as a bartender at a rather classy downtown establishment. I innocently suggested to him that if he ever happened to serve drinks to Justin Morneau, he should take advantage of the situation to slip him a roofie and leave him unconscious on my front doorstep.
(Obviously this would have to occur during the offseason, since I would never put my own well-being before that of the coolest baseball team ever to walk the planet.

And on a completely unrelated note, the first pitch of the game last night ended up in the left field seats. If it had been hit by the Twins I'd have been doing a small victory dance around the couch...but it wasn't, which is both a good and a bad thing: 1) it put us at a deficit before anyone had even cracked their first peanut.... however 2) nobody had to see me dance.

Unfortunately we never made it up. We got a run off their closer (yay?) but it wasn't enough. And poor Opie Everett hurt his hand while resting innocently in the dugout. Hopefully tonight will be better.

You know what's great?

Getting to use that photoshopped picture of Adam "Opie" Everett a day after you were going to.

And getting to use it because the photoshopee in question bested Portly Ponson...Sir Sidney Weighs-a-ton...Ponson the Hutt...

And it allows me to make fat jokes.

And it gives Gardy 600 career victories as manager.

And it comes against the evil bastard organization known as "The New York Yankees"

Someone, play some Cole Porter...I feel the need to twirl in my happiness.