The Most Constant Presence in Twins Territory

You might not recognize the fellow at the top of this post, but he's been around all season long. So long in fact that he might have been asked to pinch hit when our bench was particularly thin last week. His name is Dissotiera Injuria, or in layman terms, "the Injury Bug".

How much of an effect has the injury bug had on the Twins season? Put it this way: in 126 games the Twins have had 107 line-ups. By comparison the Yankees have fielded 53 squads in 123 games. We're on a pace to have 137 different sets of 9 take the field, that's 137 combinations of players wearing the Twins' red, white and blue. If the entire population of Dassel, Minnesota put on Twins jerseys, they could make that exact same number of rosters.

And hey, who's to say that Dissotiera Injuria is done yet? We must be about due for Danny Valencia to twist an ankle rounding first, or Alex Burnett to dislocate a shoulder in an innocuous warm up session, or Carl Pavano to snap a tendon while packing his suitcase for the next roadtrip, or Drew Butera to spontaneously combust.

Honestly your guess is as good as ours. In this wild season, where few things are certain, the only thing we would bank on is that Gardy will lead the league in Tylenol consumed and the Dissotiera Injuria is going to be around until the last out is recorded.

Welcome Back Joe Mauer

Now that Tsuyoshi Nishioka is back and bouncing over photographers for his own amusement (or so we assume), we can turn our attention to the even more exciting fact that Joseph Stanislas* Mauer is back in a Twins uniform. *Note, his real middle name is Patrick...but come on...he's old school enough it just feels like we should use an old-timey baseball legend's name as his middle name...so I'll try a few out during this blog.

When last we saw Joseph Tyrus Mauer, he was hobbled by "bilateral leg weakness" which is to say...both of his legs felt weak. That turned into an infection which pointed out a sore shoulder and heel which led to many many weeks of rehab and many many vitriolic posts by Twins fans complaining about the millions of dollars invested in the next eight years of Joseph Honus Mauer's career.

Apparently, some Twins fans love the hometown kid turned big league hero when he's playing the game rather than trying to prepare his body to play the game. Others believe he's "soft" or "weak" because, after all, if you can sit in a cubicle and leave chat room posts in between filling out TPS reports you're definitely know how difficult it is to catch 9 innings of baseball 130 times per year while maintaining a .300 batting average and leading your team to the playoffs. But most people were probably just frustrated that the team was doing so poorly and vented their frustration on Joseph Denton Mauer because he wasn't there and he could probably use $100 bills as kleenexes. (We assume he's frugal enough to just use $20s...he is midwestern after all)

At yesterday's press conference Mauer admitted that he too was frustrated, and even claimed that "nobody's been more frustrated than me". Wouldn't you be frustrated too if you missed out on all the fun the team's been having lately? Ben Revere's wild energy? Michael Cuddyer's nightly one-man magic/performance art shows? Carl Pavano & Scott Baker's ugly facial hair contests? Delmon Young's book club (seriously he cited the "remora" as the new piranha... Delmon's an inspiration to nerds everywhere)? Miss out on all that and the recent team resurgence and I'm sure you'd be frustrated too.

But now that Joseph Matthewson Mauer has rejoined the Twins there should be happier days ahead. Still we should all take a deep breath and remember: no matter how Mauer performs in an individual game, no matter how many aches and pains he suffers, there will be moments of frustration: for him, for Gardy, for us as fans. He won't always play like a legend in the making, and while I understand that some people might want to proclaim that observation and their frustration about it throughout the blogoverse or on top of a mountain or in a factory full of megaphones.

I don't.

I say this not to belittle those who do want to proclaim their feelings about Mauer or to denounce them as poopy-heads, but simply because in a life time of watching baseball sometimes you get lucky enough to watch a truly special player ply their craft in front of your very eyes. As Twins fans: right here, right now, Joeseph Mauer is that player.

I just want to appreciate that, however long it lasts.

Workplace Safety

This season it seems like the injuries never end.

One week into the season, Tsuyoshi Nishioka broke his leg. A few days later it turned out that Kevin Slowey had hurt his shoulder. Then Joe Mauer had bi-lateral leg weakness. Then Justin Morneau had an epic five-day flu. Then Delmon Young got both the flu and some bruised ribs. Now Jim Thome is day-to-day with a strain, and word is Carl Pavano's got the flu.

That's 7 players including 3 starters missing significant chunks of time due to injury or illness. It's getting so bad that Target Field employees might consider replacing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" with the theme from M*A*S*H. And while there are all kinds of explanations (limited game play during spring training...Delmon refusing to cover his mouth when he sneezes, etc.) we can only think of one explanation.

We're guessing that the Pohlad's have been using the same Office Safety Film every season for the past 51 years...and well...it might be a good idea to update it...just in case it follows this template

This might work well in the Twins front office...but sadly, it doesn't cover other important things (like stretching/not vomiting on eachother). However, it should be noted that no Twins player has had their head slammed in a filing cabinet in 51 years, the longest such streak in the majors.

Have fun watching the double header today! (We peanuts will check in as we can...but with finals fast approaching it might not be doable)

GO TWINS

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!

Quickly

Before tonight's big tilt against the White Sox, I have to say you know that baseball is news when the paper of record (The New York Times) has two baseball stories on it's main page.

The first is sad news: Bobby Thompson (Bobby "Shot-Heard-Round-the-World-Giants-win-the-pennant!-Don-DeLillo-will-make-me-immortal-in-fiction" Thompson) died today at the age of 86. With Thompson's passing one of baseball's most legendary moments just became a whole lot more legendary. As the grainy film, scratchy radio and fading memories attest, what was once beautiful in the grand old game is sadly hard to hold on to. But Thompson's gentility, class and humility allowed the story to be told and handed down and loved by generations of dorks like me. Corny as all this might sound, I grew up reading old baseball stories, and Thompson's passing reminds me that all that I love about today's game will someday be as technologically inaccessible as the old radio broadcasts of the 40's and 50's. And it will fall to me, and Stinky and all of you to keep telling stories to grandkids and great-grandkids who will never know see the awesomeness that is Kirby and Mauer.

Okay, morose moment over. Serious moment at hand: the Times also reports that brain trauma's can have effects similar to ALS (commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease). Why does this matter? Well, consider that (according to the article) Gehrig--though Columbia educated--received great credit for "toughing it out" and "playing through the pain" of not only dings and dents, but a number of concussions. Which brings us to our first baseman: Justin Morneau and the troubling, baffling, anger at Morneau for being cautious with his return from concussion.

To be sure it would be great to have Justin in the line-up, but if, as this study suggests there's a heap of deleterious health considerations connected to doing anything but resting following a concussion, then I think all baseball talk needs to be put on hold and the man needs to rest up. So, why so many fans have taken intense umbrage at Morneau and the Twins for keeping him off the field leaves me dumbstruck. (To be fair there are many people defending this decision, and many more--smarter people--who don't read message board comments at all, but I digress.) If your passion for baseball is so intense that you cannot understand the need for a player to consider their health and well being--then you need to stop watching baseball and seriously reconsider your values.

Okay: Rant mode disengage. Enjoy the game tonight!

Something Cool overshadowed by something not

Jet lag is a fickle thing and much as I would have loved to watch last night's victory (our fifth in a row!) I literally could not keep my head upright so I will likely miss out on this week worth of west coast games and simply remain an eager box score watcher in the mornings after (highlights too).

But without doubt the highlight of the game (or the recaps anyway) was the fact that the box score included this little beauty: Cuddyer 2b.

Michael Cuddyer played second base...or in honor of the adorableness that is our big right fielder playing a position normally manned by individuals who look much more like hobbits than he does. Anything that shows off Michael Cuddyer's coolness is normally rewarded with a glowing paean on this blog, but today that homage is tempered with a little anxiety.

You see...I, Scruffy, have come to love Orlando Hudson, against my better judgement. You see, I know that O-Dog is awesome, that he's hitting over 300, that he's setting the table for Mauer and Morneau, that he's helped stabilize the defense and may have played some role in helping Delmon Young overcome his fear of pop flies (They aren't actually exploding insects, like Delmon originally thought). But as awesome as it is that Orlando does all those things, he also talks...a lot...even when it seems like no one wants to hear what he's saying. As many of my friends will no doubt confirm, I often do the same thing.

So in short, I feel like Orlando Hudson is my brother in bombast. And as cool as it is that Nick Punto and Michael Cuddyer hatched a secret plan on the team flight to put Cuddy at 2nd Base, that coolness is tempered by the boiling tea kettle of anxiety I feel when O-dog isn't on the field, because if O-dog isn't out there, then what's to stop our team from behaving normally and thus becoming (shudder) just another baseball team.

Perhaps I'm exaggerating the gravity of this sitaution (wouldn't be the first time). But at the very least I just want to say: "Get well soon Orlando Hudson" and if you need anyone to talk to...well..you know where to find me.

Quick, like a ninja

The game will be on shortly, and the good news is that Stinky and I are coming to the home stretch of our homework loads this year--so in short order we can devote ourselves to the truly important things in this world: truth, justice, disgusting odors and the Minnesota Twins.

But with our various other duties we are only now getting to tonight's post, so, apologies for the abbreviated nature of this one, but we're seeking expediency here at all costs.

1) Little Nicky Punto has an owie (but not a dragon inflicted owie like Jose Mijares so, that's a plus). This means that Luke Hughes is coming up, which means we have an Australian on our team which means I may need to be nice to Australians, which is not something I'm good at. Don't get me wrong, I know and have worked with several Australians and they are largely wonderful people. They are also perpetually sarcastic (something to do with being stranded on a god forsaken rock with a bunch of convicts probably), and as a constantly peppy person I don't do well with sarcasm--it hurts my tender American feelings (sniff).

But in an effort to help Luke Hughes feel comfortable we'd like to show him that our love and affection in the culturally appropriate Australian way. By mocking him (and by him we mean Australia in general) mercilessly. (Ahem): "Hey Luke Hughes! Stop putting that Vegemite on your hotdog and listen up! I know that you're going to be tempted during the course of the game to hug Jason Kubel because his beard reminds you of a koala but please remember that the only way that Kubel would ever want to hug you is if you behave hop around the bases like a kangaroo after your first major league hit! Also, Baz Luhrman's films are self-indulgent! THERE I SAID IT!!! Now go out there and make us proud! (oops that's too nice) Go out there and try not to kill Nemo!"

2) We rocked that home stand, and are in fact pretty much rocking everything in sight these days (5 straight series wins? Hells to the yes!). But while this is very good the best thing that came out of this home stand was the following revelation from Denard Span (courtesy of the Star Trib): "I was nervous as could be about how cold it was going to be here in April. I had my ninja outfit ready to go." As Stinky pointed out to me last weekend, this means that Denard is, as she has long suspected...A NINJA! "Think about it," she said, "you pretty much have to be a ninja to play centerfield, fast, agile, capable of sudden strikes when its least expected."

When I claimed that Carlos Gomez was too noisy to be a Ninja stinky pointed out that he was "the dysfunctional ninja, the diet coke of ninjas." However, as she pointed out to me "Denard is also silent and stealthy, he just stands at the plate and waits and waits and then--BOOM he's on first base with a walk!"

I can picture Denard now, on his days off from the Twins, skulking around Minneapolis in his ninja gear, using throwing stars to pin White Sox fans to walls, using his cat like reflexes to scale the elevator shafts in the Wells Fargo building until he reaches the super computers and adjusts the interest rates on savings bonds. Sigh...oh Denard, why must you be so awesome?

As always we hope that the awesomeness can continue but understand if it doesn't. And as the boys head back on the road we send them off with the full support of Twins Territory, and as an homage to our Ninja Centerfielder, we send them off with a haiku

Take your home with you

Flashing streaks of number two

Victory is ours

A Dragon named St. Rain Edelbow

With Stinky taking an accounting mid-term, I'm back again, but sadly I did not watch much of the baseball this weekend and so will rely on the reports of the Knitting Queen to tell you how things happened.

Friday: "That was real good there!"

Saturday: "They were hitting early, but then Hudson played the hero with a homer"

Sunday: "It was better that you weren't watching."

So we won another series (4 in a row) and all seems to be right with the world as we celebrate our off day, but all is not right, oh no my friends it is not. You see, one of our favorite pitchers, a man of substantial importance, a man of great substance generally (even if much of that substance appears to be jell-o pudding cups): Jose "Pretty Princess" Mijares.

Once upon a time, Pretty Princess Mijares was the fairest and most lovely lass in all of Twins Territory. With long lovely hair, a sharp dangerous slider and a badass attitude befitting a take charge modern day princess, Mijares was the kind of relief pitcher everyone would love to have as their local nobility/left handed bullpen specialist.

But this season has not been kind to Pretty Princess Mijares. First, the royal hair gel led to a delay in leaving the far off kingdom of Venice(zeula), next the princess had a hard time reacclimatizing to life in the bull pen (after all, the dread pirate seemed to have retired to Patagonia, there was a strangely familiar man named "Sir Pat Neshek" and a very scary man with a very scary neck tattoo). And yet, Pretty Princess Mijares was eagerly anticipating the return to Twins territory and the loyal subjects who loved their Pretty Princes, the sharp dangerous slider and the badass attitude.

Unfortunately Pretty Princess Mijares had a hard time concentrating with a looming presence above the bullpen. A scary beast with great scaly wings, and fiery breath of pain, and spiky tail of owies. 'Twas Gardy the friendly/occasionally profane gnome who spotted it and announced: "Uh-oh, its the local dragon".

"Who?" asked the Pretty Princess

"The local dragon of Twin Territory, he hovers above pitchers/princesses in danger and inflicts great owies upon them."

"Oh! I heard of him," said the Pretty Princess, "they say his name is St. Rain Edelbow and all pitchers fear him...but I'm not your stereotypical princess, I'm also a badass princess who carries hair gel onto planes without the federally mandated clear plastic bag, I will fight it and regain my mojo."

"I don't think that's a great idea Princess, I mean, it's a dragon and its name is actually..."

"It's name is St. Rain Edelbow, and that is a silly name for dragons are not saints! Have at ye, poopyhead Dragon Face!"

And so Pretty Princess Mijares sought to fight off the dragon with scaly wings, fiery breath of pain and spiky tail of owies. Pretty Princess Mijares failed. And now Pretty Princess Mijares is on the disabled list.

The moral of the story is this kids: Just because you are cool enough to fight a dragon doesn't mean you actually HAVE to fight a dragon!