4 Games, 200 Words

Everything is bigger in Texas, but since we don't need to compensate for anything, we're going to summarize the Twins 4 game set in just 200 words. (Time is short; ergo brevity wins the day)

Monday: Rangers 20-Twins 6

This game looked so bad early on we were almost tempted to watch Sex & the City 2. On the plus side, Cuddy did this.

Tuesday: Twins 9-Rangers 8

Tempted though we were to avoid another night of heartbreak, sticking around for all nine innings paid off with a stirring comeback win and Joe Nathan tying a team record for saves.

Wednesday: Twins 7-Rangers 2

Joe Mauer hit a home run! (Cue the Hallelujah chorus), and though Joe Nathan didn't get a record setting save, we scored a lot of runs and won! WOOT

Thursday: Rangers 4-Twins 1

We actually spent the night celebrating my grandfather's 83rd birthday. And since he's a Twin fan, we won't even bring up the game.

DONE! With 35 to spare. And now we must say that we're hitting the road for two weeks in Thailand. If we can we'll post...but dude, if you were in Thailand, would you?

See you in August!

The Daylight Ride of Ben Revere

It was great to see the Twins come away with a win today, a series victory and a (miraculously) winning road trip. And while the 9th inning home run off of Matt Capps was a little demoralizing it was great to watch as Ben Revere channeled the ghosts of fleet-footed outfielders past.

Photo Credit: Mark Duncan

A lot of people have likened Revere to Denard Span, what with the slap hitting and excellent range, others have said the smile seems more Kirby Puckett-esque, then again he also has the same number that Jacque Jones used to wear and he's already sparking the offense the way that Torii Hunter seemed to in his early days. But if you ask me I think that he's most like a certain 18th century Boston Silversmith/Rounders Deep-fielder/Patriot: Paul Revere.

The first big play, a solid single up the middle to knock in the game's first run was great. You could almost see him using that hit to tell young Cord Phelps and All-star-to-be Asdrubal Cabrera the same thing that Paul Revere told the British: "don't even try to catch me, because you can't take away our arms! [or in this case our arms or our bats]"

And then in the sixth inning, as he doubled, stole second, and came home on a Morneau double you could easily imagine him ringing those bells and riding his horse and firing warning shots just like Paul Revere. (Only of course his horse was invisible and he wasn't allowed to fire a gun or ring bells...if only Paul Revere had used some kind of light based technology I could liken say two lanterns to his smile....)

And in the 10th, his single to left said with certainty that Drew Butera would be secure/safe at home and that we would be free of our losing ways and be armed...like a private militia...maybe...

Okay, so maybe it's not a perfectly symmetrical connection, (after all I'm basing my knowledge of Paul Revere on the diatribe that was bandied about in the news all week). But I mean, c'mon do you think the recent surge in news about Revere's both past and present is really just a coincidence and not an obvious sign that Ben Revere is some sort of distant relative/reincarnation of the legendary horse rider? [Cast your vote in the poll at the right!]

No matter how you slice it, Ben Revere played great today, the Twins came away with a series win in Cleveland, and the tyranny of negativity surrounding the local 9 seems to be fading (at least for the moment).

A week in retrospective

Okay--so this last week has been a little busy here on the ol' home front. So let's try to do this as best we can:

Here's the last week in Minnesota Twins action

Wednesday the 4th--Delmon Young continued a ground balls hit just hard enough to avoid rally killing double plays and adding to his RBI total and our win total

Thursday the 5th--While Stinky worked at a--what do you call it: Job?--Scruffy felt a terrifying sense of impending doom. (Ron Mahay's alien arm will do that to you) Then Scruffy's mom (the Knitting Queen) made two predictions:

1) "The baseball gods, in their infinite wisdom, will not allow the Twins to lose this game when they so clearly should have won it. Sure, we may have gotten deprived of other games, but this one we clearly deserved to win and so...win it we will."

2) "We will score two runs in the 9th. I don't know how, but we will."

And low and behold we did score two runs, thanks to a suprising/distratcing double off the catwalk, The Knitting Queen was proved prescient, Scruffy no longer felt doomed and Stinky got a welcome distraction from work

Friday the 6th--Bad waitress, bad game. No more to say about that.

Saturday the 7th--Then Jason Kubel hit a home run to remind us all that running is stupid, and Carl Pavano's (and his mustache) saved the day again.

Sunday the 8th--Instead of watching the game, Stinky and Scruffy went to see Inception. Presumably the Twins beat the Indians by invading Shin Soo-Choo's dreams and convincing him to spin a top...or something...

Monday the 9th--Day-off in Chicago, the Twins snuck into a posh restaurant in enemy territory by posing as "Abe Froman: Sausage King of Chicago"

Tuesday the 10th--To celebrate the birthday of Scruffy's older brother (Chicago resident/Twins Fan) Scruffy arranges for fireworks set off by the Twins line-up. Unfortunately the team assumes that this was a metaphorical request and therefore only hits home runs rather than actually lighting fireworks.

Wednesday the 11th--Despite the haunting quack of "Swarzak" the Twins use Glen Perkins in the middle of a playoff race--the result is a foregone conclusion.

Thursday the 12th--Deprived of television, Stinky and Scruffy listen to the radio and are forced to chew their fingernails throughout Francisco Liriano's Bogus Journey in the 5th and 6th innings...but victory is achieved and all is made well.

And that brings us up to today. The Knitting Queen is off to the game tonight, and Scruffy, Stinky and Scruffy's little brother will be off to the game tomorrow night. Then Scruffy returns to Ohio and Stinky heads to Montana...but we'll be here...maybe not every day, but as often as we can be.

Until then,

The Peanuts from Heaven

Road Trip down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

I know that a lot of people are saying that this little stretch of games is the easiest the Twins will have to face for a while. But I disagree...these are the games which try men's souls. We're playing teams with so many faded dreams that they should probably be playing heroines in Tennessee Williams' plays.

I've already talked about Cleveland. A team which was one win away from the World Series 3 years ago...2007! And now they've lost their two Cy Young winners and taken a shot to the gut from a home town boy who prefers bikinis to...uhh...whatever they have in Cleveland I guess. It's hard to beat up on a team that despondent...but we tried doing it before...and we're going to have to try and do it again in about a week.

Then there's Baltimore. A place where about 15 years ago they had a team as feared as the Yankees. A place where the beautiful ball park begat a resurgence of building (culminating in Target Field) an oodles of fans. But the vast seas of empty seats just looked woefully depressing--sure every one who came seemed to take home a souvenir foul ball/home run blast from Delmon Young...but that's small solace when your team plays like a three-day old crab cake.

Now we're off to Kansas City, where Stinky and I have been, where there's a long proud history of baseball and barbeque and blues and water hazards inside the stadium. The Royals haven't been competitive since the 1980's but they were tremendously competitive at that tme and really wrote the book for how to compete outside of the biggest metropoli in America. But now...the announcers sound bored, local fans are frequently outnumbered by tourists and the team ownership (WalMart) is reportedly interested in trading everybodyy...their Abe Lincoln "Vampire Hunter" closer, their Cy Young winning pitcher, Dah Jesus. EVERYBODY. (Always Low Prices: Always the Royals)

I guess part of what makes this whole road trip so sad is that, we all have to accept the fact that, as a cyclical business--there's every chance the Twins will be in a funk like this. Heck, we WERE in a funk like this from approximately 1993-2001...8 long years worth of trading anybody with a modicum of talent, 8 years of countless blue seats and Herb Carneal's voice echoing through the silence of the stadium, 8 years of wondering when our luck would turn.

Of course our luck has changed, and we're happy, and we genuinely do hope that some day soon there's a playoffs populated by Us and Baltimore and Kansas City and Pittsburgh and Washington and Seattle and all the little scrappy guys out there in the world. But until that happy day we encourage all the struggling teams out there to hitch their wagon to us--your benevolent mascot for small-market fortitude. (And please don't send us back to the purgatory of loserdom: please oh please oh PLEASE?!?!?)

So that's why this road trip is hard...it's a glimpse into the sad side of baseball...a side that every team confronts at some point (even the Yankees, hard as that is to believe). Now is a time to hope for the best, prepare for the worst and count our blessings. Come home soon Twins...and make the pain stop.

Scruffy

P.s. I realize that this whole blog was a bit of a debbie downer so in order to make up for that please note the fancy shmancy new blog design!! (We've been fiddling with this for a little while, and may make further changes once the blogger with actual taste and design acumen (Stinky) has more free time)

Back again

Sorry for the two week delay in posts, things got a little crazy as Stinky and I travelled to India - a place where stable internet connections are rare and baseball is even rarer. But while we ventured through planes, trains and automobiles we found time to discuss the awesomeness of 13 runs against the Brewers, another victory over the Yankees, and precisely what would be the appropriate punishment for the Yankpires and their villainy (hint: it related to India).

Stinky takes over:
However, our lack of internet access does not mean we didn't bring baseball with us to India, or that we didn't make an almost ridiculous effort to follow the Twins despite the many obstacles that lay in our path. These efforts included waking up at 4:30 am to watch games vs. the Brewers at the one hotel that actually DID have reliable internet, checking scores and updates as often as humanly possible...and last but certainly not least, we were accompanied on our journeys by two very special guests - Carlos Gomez and Joe Girardi!

Carlos was mostly used as a bookmark, but we also managed to take his picture in trains an cabs. We wanted to bring him with us to Fatepur Sikri, but we forgot. We also wanted to bring him to the Taj....but again....forgot. Oh well....

Our master plan for Joe Girardi was to help him meet a grisly end - preferably death by monkey attack, or by just abandoning him in a pile of poo in Dehli. Sadly, we never found a hungry enough monkey and my irrational fear of littering squelched the abandonment plan, so the evil jerkface is still safely with us. I'll figure out something I guess.

Scruffy back to wrap up:
In all it was a productive trip, many pictures snapped, many ideas sparked, many verbs past tensed. We're happy to be back with friends and family, including the boys in Blue. We may ask our friend Sparky for a recap of games played whilst we were away, but for now rest assured that we will be back with much commentary and much silliness in the days and weeks to come.

Moving on to face the most hated team in baseball

So...we lost our first series of the season, reminding us all that few things last forever (Twinkies and cockroaches at last count), and that every day and every game is a new opportunity to start something great. Six series wins in a row was nice, how about we try for seven starting tonight in Cleveland?

And speaking of the comeback kids of the Cuyahoga, we found this news article that was...well...disturbing. It seems that throughout the internet when you tally up all the statements made on message boards and blogs and what not that the villainous, vile and otherwise detestable pin-stripers have not been exposed to the same amount of bile and disdain as four other teams. The Astros, the Reds, the Red Sox and yes...the Cleveland Indians have garnered more disparaging comments this season than the Yankees have. In fact, the Indians have the lowest rating of any team this season suggesting that they are the least liked team in all of baseball.

(To be fair, the group that did the study--The Nielsen Company--claims that these are only reactions to the first 3.5 weeks of the season. The Yankees positive start combined with the fact that most teams haven't played them yet, means that most fan blogs haven't had a reason to disparage them yet. Menawhile the Indians poor start, the local basketball team's title aspirations and a disenchanted fan base mean that even the people who should care about the Tribe don't, at least, not right now.)

So as the Twins head into Cleveland tonight we can think of it like this...we can keep beating up on the little guy and help them to wallow in their crapulence. Or we can beat them but give them a little clap and an encouraging word.

So let me be the first to say: Good on ya Cleveland. You've got really...nice...hair...and it's nice that you aren't you know, bloodsucking vampires who destroy goodness and light the way Yankpires do.

Deep Breaths...

First, a bit of a news flash--I, Scruffy, will be in attendance tonight in Detroit Rock City despite having a 6 page paper due tomorrow. Perhaps my judgement is off a skosh, you say? Perhaps...but such is the effect of a series to decide our season.

In an effort to maintain sanity prior to this big series, we here at Peanuts from Heaven encourage everyone to remember the secret of life: KEEP BREATHING! Seriously, if you don't breathe for an extended period of time, your chances of living diminish severely.

To help you all, here's a pre-series haiku for you:

However it goes,

Awesomeness needs no reward

The journey is all.

You may now return to freaking out.

Monday Doors--So Close...

An explanation before we begin--When I was a kid (read: 5-8 years old) we started Monday morning classes with construction paper, and crayons and a retelling of our weekend adventures. On the front of the paper we had a generic scene, but inside we had details.

This will be our new method of reporting events of the weekends.

Now, to begin with, it was a good weekend, two wins and only one loss, improving our road record, pulling within two of the Tigers. However, it is highly unfortunate that a near perfect weekend was undone by two bad pitches, one from the Master Librarian himself and one from the oft-exasperating Brian "You Make me Feel Like" Duensing. What's worse, Ian Kinsler looks a little like Bozo the Clown. We do not approve of this.

Perhaps Kinsler's act of heroism was born of the struggle betwixt Jason "Le Smirk" Kubel, and Carlos "Mojo Gogo" Gomez.

We all know of Jason Kubel's Public Service Campaign: Running is Stupid. And at the start of the weekend he brought said campaign to Texas with a fury. And for the next several days Kubel's comrades in muscly arms attempted to further his cause with long, long, long, (but not quite long enough fly balls)

Meanwhile Carlos Gomez continued to quietly subvert this philosophy with his stated dogma of "Running is So Fun that I like Running and think We Should All Run More!!...RUNNNING!!"

As is the case with most contrarian ideologies, a showdown was in the offing, and sure enough, Sunday night was the night, and the battle was waged over the soul of our offense--and the winner of the battle turned into the loser, very quickly.

KUBEL: So, I just says to the guy, I says: "Yo--Running is Stupid"

YOUNG: YEAH!

MORNEAU: YEAH! YEAH!!

MAUER: YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!!

CUDDY: That reminds me I need to buy their new album...and also, YEAH!

PUNTO: You guys make a great point, I mean I've been running for a year, and it hasn't helped my average any.

MORNEAU: You should try to hit for power, little Nicky P. After all...

ALL: [In unison] RUNNING IS STUPID! [High-Fives]

GOMEZ: NO! NO!! It's not true!!!!

KUBEL: Yeah, it is.

GOMEZ: No, it is not! Dios mio--am I the only one who remembers how much fun running is. How great it is to feel the wind in your hair, the ground churning beneath your feet. Am I the only who remembers the joy of piranha baseball? Nick?

PUNTO: Huh? I'm sorry, I'm trying to remember the last time I hit a homerun. It might have been back when Mike Redmond still had teeth...

GOMEZ: Denard?

SPAN: Huh? I'm sorry, I was busy offering great deals on aluminum siding...

GOMEZ: Alexi?

CASILLA: Huh? I'm sorry, I'm too busy studying multicellular gametophytes to pay attention to baseball anymore....

GOMEZ: Why won't anyone listen to me?!?

MAUER: Look, Gogo, now that we can hit homeruns, people are cheering for us to hit homeruns. They happen real fast and can score a bunch of runs at once. They even made me popular across the country--heck--I got to compete in a home run hitting contest

MORNEAU: I did that too.

MAUER: Yeah, but they said my name right. [A single tear rolls down Morneau's cheek] I love hitting for power, I want to do it all the time!

GOMEZ: But you haven't had a hit since the beginning of our first game here!!!

MAUER: ..........so?

GOMEZ: So we should play our kind of baseball! Otherwise, we will live by the homerun and die by the homerun--and maybe clowns....they are scary.

KUBEL: Let's let the team decide: Who likes getting base hits and running really really hard [Gomez and Span raise their hands, Punto kinda sorta half raises his]? Who likes hitting home runs and trotting around the bases to tumultuous applause [Everyone else raises their hand, including Punto who sheepishly raises his a little more than half-way]? And who likes multicellular gametophytes? [Alexi Casilla raises his hand--he is the only one ever to raise his hand] Sorry, Gogo, We're going to win this game with home runs!! [Cheers]

GOMEZ: But what if we lose by homeruns?!?

KUBEL: Only a bozo would dare try to beat us by a homerun!! [Laughter]

[Gomez says nothing, despite the Twins sudden dry spell of offense as Mauer, Morneau and Company keep swinging for the fences. He simply looks at Ian Kinsler in the Rangers dugout, as he rocks back and forth, back and forth, in a most menacing fashion]

And that was our weekend.

The Road Trip: In Photoshop

For anyone who would prefer an account of our road trip with fewer words and more pictures: consider this for you.

We began on the road to Milwaukee. And while we had high hopes for a Twins win to kick off our tour, we instead ran into Brewers Announcer Brian Anderson whose predictions continually went wrong...earning him the title: NOT-STRADAMUS

But at the game the next day we were filled with hope. Until we saw the massive frame of Prince Fielder, who tied the game with a big home run. We wondered how a vegetarian could be so fat, until we realized that souls do not contain meat...so Prince Fielder probably devours souls of his opponents.

One soul that Prince could never devour is that of our plucky lead off hero, Denard Span. And what we like about Denard...he really knows how to dance (particularly around the base paths and mid slide:After Denard danced over the Brewers, the Twins headed south to St. Louis, for the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny between Joe Mauer--the be-sideburned god of the Upper Midwest, and Albert Pujols--the Uni-browed Diety of the Lower Midwest. They would face-off once and for all...literally:

Mauer and his boys took 2 out of 3, but Pujols impressed us, even from a distance, evoking the kind of fear you feel when a lion charges you down in the savannah:

Or...maybe it was a panther from Thunderia?

Whatever the case: Albert was a bad ass, but he was also defeated. And as we drove across I-70 to St. Louis we wondered whether or not the sexy babe mudflaps could be replaced by the sexy master librarian, RA Dickey and his brand of mudflaps

When we realized that would never happen, we settled in for the game in Kansas City. But the tuckered out Twins took their stupid pills and started to lose. In an effort to motivate the club our beloved Garden Gnome argued with the ump...and then proved himself to be a creature from fantasy literature by vanishing just as suddenly as he began his argument.

So our hope was nearly lost...until we thought how surprising and distracting it would be to have Brian Buscher start the come back. I mean...you never expect Brian to be in the starting line-up, and you really never expect him to get a hit (let alone a clutch hit). I mean: No one Expects BRIAN BUSCHER!!!

And for good reason...he didn't do anything. And so the Twins lost the last game we saw them play. But they did win all the other games we saw, and 6 out of 9 on this entire road trip...which is very good. Now comes an intimidating home stand, with Detroit, New York and Chicago before the All-Star Break. We will remain faithful...and we hope you will stay tuned to see what the Twins manage to do.

Until tomorrow. Happy Trails.

Observations whilst in Kauffman Stadium

So...we lost -- and our defense was so bad it almost made my eyeballs fall out of my head -- but still, we went 2-3 in games we saw, and one more win will give us a winning road trip--it won't happen because our theory of low expectations forces us to imagine situations where in the aroma of steaks and the harmonies of blues lures the Twins into a house made of ribs where they are eaten by a witch.

Until such a terrible event occurs: we thought we would share these thoughts in our last stop of this Road Trip:

1) Kauffman stadium is pretty--and pretty evil. Water fountains, a mini golf course, big sweeping stands that provide plenty of shade--all very nice. Complete failure to provide water of any kind to anyone without payment--not cool Kansas City, not cool. We also feel that this might account for our abysmal defense last night. When all our guys tried to take their special smarty pants pills, they had to take them with powerade not regular water--which rendered science and magic irrelevant and turned it all into stupid pills. (Hence the bobbling and the errors)

2) The Ball park is no place for grammar: we say this to the dude who yelled up at us: "TELL THOSE CHICKS NEXT TO YOU "PROVE" IS SPELLED WITH ONE "O" NOT TWO!!!!"--yeah, cause what we really want to do when we finally find friendly people around us is go all english teacher nerd on them

3) Joakim Soria looks like Abraham Lincoln--if Abraham Lincoln played for a mid-nineties metal band

4) Barbecue is good--no surprise there

5) "Lets Go Mauer" chants are ineffective in other ball parks--Though the chairman's magnanimous generosity may also account for the occasional double play ball of charity.

6) When it comes to manager ranting--Gardy is clearly a cut above. In our little den of Twins fans everyone stood up to cheer the man, providing commentary for our Kansas Citizen Brethren: first comes the hand gestures, then the arm gestures, then the increased promiximity to the ump, then the hat comes off, then the magic word, and he's gone. Trey Hillman's style: stand and deliver--no movement, no feeling, no pizazz.

7) Big Dudes love Cuddy. It was about 11:30 PM in downtown Kansas City. We had just parked our car and were ready to go get a drink (or several) in which to drown our sorrows when a huge, massive dude approached us from out of the shadows. "Hey," said the huge dude. "My wife just had a baby six weeks ago and man, I'm out on the highway and we just ran out of gas just over there," (points vaguely to a spot "over there") "and you know, the baby and anything you can do to help..." Stinky, being a woman and being slightly paranoid, was inclined to listen to her brain, which screamed "Run away! Huge dude in a dark parking lot!!" Scruffy, being slightly more calm, pulled out a 20 and gave it to the dude, who then told us a) how awesome we were and b) how much he loved Michael Cuddyer. Not Mauer, not Crede... Michael Cuddyer. So, did he really have a 6 month old baby? Was he really out of gas on the highway? We shall never know. But we do know that big dudes everwhere love Cuddy.


Overall, this was an awesome and successful trip. Peanuts from Heaven win percentage was above .500. Fans were (realitvely) friendly (except in Milwaukee). We were in the shade most of the time. Food was delicious. Sure, there was the occasional setback - a funky smelling hotel room, a melted bag of gummy worms, getting slightly lost in downtown KC - but no ammount of setbacks can ruin baseball, nor can it ruin the fun of burying your co-blogger in the sand and decorating them like Captain Hammer from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. These are the truly great moments in life.

Observations whilst in Busch Stadium

So...we won again--well done us. And while we headed into the game with low expectations in our hearts and heavy duty sunblock in our pores, we headed out of the game with immense satisfaction and complete glee.

Throughout the game, we discussed, as only two anthropomorphic peanuts can: truth, justice, disgusting odors, and the Minnesota Twins--although, not necessarily in that order.

1) Albert Pujols charging down a bunt, is a little like a lion charging in the savannah. For the sake of this simile: Francisco Liriano is a wounded antelope.

2) Cherry Licorice is basically sugar, corn syrup, sugar, red food coloring and sugar--it is also basically awesome.

3) According to Tammy, cashier at the Terrace Level Grandstand Grill, I have beautiful eyes--erego, Tammy is the best cashier in the history of ever.

4) When we nicely ask Justin Morneau to hit a home run, he does so.  When we nicely ask him to do it again, he grounds into a double play, which is highly unfortunate.

5) Joe Mauer enjoys flirting with .400.  Really, he should just stop waffling and commit - bring .400 some flowers and chocolates, take it out for a fancy Italian dinner and talk about how beautiful their children will be, etc. etc.  He needs to do this in order to save all of baseball from the evil league of evil stereoid users, according to Sports Illustrated.

Finally--mad props to Cardinals fans. Who, though they ignored us throughout the game, were very cool, supportive, considerate, refusing to jeer their poor performing players and quietly acknowledging good plays by Twins and providing service with a smile--even to us.

Tomorrow it's on to Kansas City - blues, steak, the Negro League museum, and thou, Kauffman Stadium.

Until then, go Twins!

Observations whilst in Miller Park

As promised--good things happened (though not to our gummy worms which melted in my car).

On an ungodly hot day in Miller Park the Twins were victorious, decisively so, in fact. Which made this road trip that much greater already (1 game seen by the Peanuts--1 game won in front of the Peanuts).

But while we were winning a few things caught our attention--

1) You can hear things inside Miller Park, whereas the PA system in the Metrodome sounds like nothing so much as Charlie Brown's teacher.

2) Dick and Bert, who were sitting only a few rows behind us being awesome as usual.  Bert gave us a thumbs up.

3) Brewers fans - they're never happy.  It seemed like no matter what we did - clap, hold up our Bert Blyleven hall of fame sign, shift slightly in our seats, sneeze, etc. - they would utter something like "stupid effing Minnesota fans."  Every time a Twins player struck out, the classy dude two rows behind us yelled "Ha!  There goes a Twinkie!!"  Yes.  We get it.  We're there to see the other team.  TOO BAD SUCKERS.

4) Sausage race.  Possibly the most oddly inappropriate, strangely bizzare kids themed ride I have ever seen.  You sit on a giant sausage that is dressed like a human and try to pedal him as fast as possible to the other end of a large cage.  Later in the game, the aforementioned sausages, dressed as various ethnic stereotypes, race each other around the field.  I would make a joke about male insecurity and compensating for things, but this is a family-friendly blog.

5) When the Brewers played: "What I Like About You" we listened carefully and decided that the line about dancing would be applicable to the first Twin to get a hit in that half of the inning. Unsurprisingly: Scott Baker does not know how to dance. Denard Span--OH GOD does Denard Span know how to dance (Jump around, turn around, talk about true romance).

6) Prince Fielder is a vegetarian, which begs the questions, are the souls of his opponents allowed on his regimen? (We think--Yes--Prince Fielder: Devourer of Souls)

One final note--if you go to a ball game and drink--heavily--so much that you pass out with four cups of rum and coke in front of the women's room--you have wasted 75 dollars--$15 for parking, $20 for the ticket, and $40 on the over priced drinks. If you're money conscious during this recession, you can just pay me 60 and I'll hit you over the head with a hammer--same feeling, steep discount.

The Twins are in St. Louis, we are in Chicago (the twain shall meet again Sunday)

ARE WE THERE YET?!?

Tomorrow, Scruffy and I are embarking on the greatest journey of all time: TWINS ROAD TRIP!!!

We looked at doing one of those professional bus tours but decided that they are just too expensive and we could probably do it ourselves for about 1/3 of the cost... granted, their budget probably includes nicer hotels and meals at actual restaurants where as ours includes the Super 8 and lots of peanut butter (I'm a grad student so Peanut Butter is pretty much the base of my diet anyways).

So, what I'm really trying to say here is, during the next few days we will be not just any bloggers, but ROAD BLOGGERS!!!

Make sure you watch the TV, because we'll be there, holding our Bert Blyleven Hall of Fame sign and dressed like...well...the only dumbass Twins fans in a sea of Brewers/Cardinals/Royals fans. We'll be at these 3 games:
Thursday 6/25 in Milwaukee
Sunday 6/28 in St. Louis
Monday 6/29 in KC

A;LKDJFPAOIHSD;KJSDF;ALKDFJ ROAD TRIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Awesomeness will happen. Shenanigans will ensue. Peanut butter will be eaten. It will be the greatest thing ever.

You know what?

We went on a roadtrip, and it did not totally suck!

We did not lose 85 Gajillion to 1. Delmon actually got a couple hits. The smoke monster from LOST did not eat our entire starting lineup and then spit them out like a bad nut. The sun did not become a red giant and engulf the entire earth in flames. Gardy was not kidnapped by trolls. Overall I think it went very well.

Considering how every other time this year that we've dared to venture outside the safety of the metrodome has ended in utter disaster, I'll take 500 any day.

I was also highly entertained by our series against the Cubbies. Milton Bradley forgot how to count to three, but can you really blame him? Counting was such a long time ago, and when I think of all the things I learned in school that I've now forgotten (my entire 10th grade world history class is reduced in my mind to a squiggly line on the board which I think was the long march of China, and a few random facts about the Industrial Revolution), you can hardly blame a guy for forgetting how to count.

Also, in a random act of violence, a Twins fan was either punched in the face or hit in the face with a ball (I'm not entirely clear on the facts here). I'm pretty sure that Twins fan was my friend Paul, and that getting hit in the face was karmic retribution for being there without me and for taunting me with pictures and text messages throughout the weekend. SUCK IT PAUL.

And... a big fat welcome back to Glen Perkins! It feels nice to have our starting rotation back in action. Swarzak was good, Perkins is better.

Mr. Cranky Pants

Maybe its because I haven't slept much lately. Maybe its because I was frustrated during work today. Maybe its because my previously ingenious photoshop for Anthony Swarzak seems utterly useless. Maybe its because I have been spending prolonged hours attempting desperately to find statistics on uncooperative websites. But whatever the case I feel obliged to say this:

I DO NOT LIKE LOSING ANYMORE!!!

Mind you I'm sure I'm not alone. I'm sure our Garden Gnome/Manager doesn't like it. I'm sure our offense doesn't like it. I'm sure our pitchers don't like it. I'm sure that if we could win every time we wanted to we would be just like the Yankees--only not evil.

I think I wouldn't mind so much if we were losing by a lot of runs, because then I would understand that we are a grossly out matched team. It would be understandable if we were losing to teams with obscene payrolls and scads of all-stars: because then our role as plucky little underdogs would be heightened, and rare victories made sweeter. It would be nice if we didn't lose to a man with as absurd a name as "Outman" because--I mean, seriously? We come up with pitchers/superheroes like Dread Pirate Joe Nahtan, Kevin "Killthrow" Slowey and the Nefarious Dr. Cakeburn, and you just go with: Outman? Lamest. Super Hero. EVER! Losing I can stand--losing to cliches I cannot. 

But this: this string of one-run losses, this streak of losses to mediocre teams, this...OUTMAN!!! I MEAN OUTMAN!!?!?!?!?

Listen, Twins, I love you, and I'm sure it will get better...my crankiness might not solve anything--but at the very least I've got it out of my system and am ready to approach the world with burgeoning optimism and serenity--maybe you should try it.

Distraction (NOT Supraction...maybe)

Yesterday I went to the new ballpark in Washington, DC to watch the Nationals lose (I assumed) to the Padres. I went in with three goals: 1) to get a chili dog from Ben's Chili Bowl 2) to yell GOOOOOOZ as loud as possible whenever Guzman was at the plate, and 3) try not to be constantly distracted by game four of the Twins vs. Tampa.

As far as 1) is concerned: this was easily accomplished. I went during the first inning while the line was still short and got myself a delicious chili dog. Mmmm... a long tube of god-only-knows-what meat, covered beans, some sort of sauce that may or may not have tomatoes in it, and chunks of possibly even more ambiguous meat, and then finally topped with cheese. I'm pretty sure that everything in this meal could kill me eventually, but it tastes like sweet sweet heaven. One thing I hope will happen when we move to Target Field is that there will be a better variety of foods that could kill me. While I was waiting in line I texted Smelly a few times and watched the Padres score their first 2 runs...in the first 5 minutes of the game.

As far as 2) is concerned: this was slightly more difficult since Gooz had the day off. They did however bring him in to pinch hit in the 9th. They were down 6-1 at that point, and as awesome as Gooz is I'm pretty sure he's not capable of scoring 6 runs by himself, so it was a pretty ineffective move. It did give me the chance to yell GOOOOOOOOOOZ!!! though, and embarassing Matt is always high on my priority list.

As for 3): I failed miserably. I would have been distracted anyways, knowing the Twins were eving playing... compounding the difficulty of my situation was the detailed scoreboard above the visitors dugout. It was pretty and shiny. It also showed not only the inning and the score, but also the bases. Thus, I spent the whole game obsessively watching little yellow and white squares, waiting for the yellows to advance the bases. It was just enough information to make me totally frustrated, because while I could see we had men on 2nd and 3rd, I kept wondering, "Who are these mysterious yellow squares? Who's at bat? What's the pitch count? Who's pitching??? How many Outs???? SHOW ME SOMETHING, ANYTHING AT ALL!!!"

...and then I would look at the scoreboard for the game I was actually at, see that the Nationals were still losing, and go back to staring obsessively that the little squares on the scoreboard.

The Twins won. The Nationals lost, so in my list of pros/cons for remaining a Twins fan when/if I move to DC, I have this small fact: Twins - 1. National's - 0.

So happy...

As my esteemed and stinky colleague pointed out about last night:

It was good.

We won.

We won and the White Sox didn't. (They didn't lose either, but...meh)

The Twins recent struggles to win, and win consistently, and win consistently on the road, have caused much consternation in the Peanuts From Heaven Inc. offices.

The return of Senor Cuddles, master of magic and lover of steaks, eases those doubts.

12 runs in two games on the same day, calms those fears.

A bullpen that suddenly remembered it was a good idea not to allow runs, ceases much consternation.

And 250 bucks in tips as a bartender, creates much much joy...in my wallet.

But one of the truly great moments came in the seventh inning of the second game. After running around the bar I work in, trying to figure out what on earth goes into a "Flirtini", telling two men fresh in from Boston that, yes, winter is more or less an October to April event in Minnesota, and trying desperately to carry four plates, make three drinks, ring up two orders and get one credit card to work simultaneously, I struck up a conversation with a couple from St. Cloud.

We kept smiling up at the score, and chatting about the quality of meat, and laughing at the foolishness of the White Sox to challenge our awesomeness. In this conversation we spoke of our bullpen, and more specifically it's crapitude. It was at this point that I shared my concerns with these nice people

Quoth I: "You know, I'm just not sure that a 10-6 lead is safe enough."

Quoth Brendan Harris' bat: "BAM!"

Quoth the customers: "Oh my goodness! That was awesome!"

Quoth Brendan Harris: "My pleasure folks. Is there anything else I can get for you? Would you like another beer or an extra shrimp cocktail? How about a dessert?"

Quoth I: "Uh...Brendan that's my job."

Quoth Brendan: "Oh right...so how about I get you guys a slick defensive play that will destroy the Orioles' self confidence and force them to assume the fetal position? How's that sound?"

Quoth us: "That'd be great!"

Quoth Brendan: "I'll get right on that."

So, for the moment at least, all is well, and everyone is happy. Whatever else happens, whether the early two run deficit today turns into a loss or not, whether we scuffle in Cleveland/Tampa or not, whether Mother Nature decides to play along or not: last night was awesome. (On many, many levels)

This Just In...

I hate Toronto and everything it stands for.

In watching the last game of our increasingly reeking road trip my father and I have found one, and only one, comfort. The road trip will be over in 2 innings and they can all come home to warm beds and people who love them whether they win or lose.

I believe it was Benjamin Franklin who said: "Guests, fish and road trips stink after three days. After 15 days they should be spat upon, shot, shot again and saturated with one's own mucous."

As true now as it was then.

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!!!