The Great Twins Scotch Bet, Part 2: 1 out of 3 ain't Bad

Thank You Delmon...Thank you

As the Twins celebrate the workers of the world by beating the crab-cake consuming, wanna-be Lords of the American League, Baltimore Orioles (in a game punctuated by Joe Mauer exploiting Delmon Young's defense like the cold blooded despot that he is), it's time to check back in on our annual scotch bet.


Yes, it's been 10 games since my last update which means that we are now down to just 25 games left in this season and this year's scotch bet. So where do we stand?

Gouger's Bet: 75-87 or better
Smelly's (my) Bet: 70-92 to 74-88
Stinky's Bet: 69-93 or worse

2014 Twins 60-77...on pace for 71 Wins

Yes, I'm still, marginally ahead here...thank you very much Chairman Mauer for absolutely annihilating Orioles pitching today, and no thanks to you bullpen for beginning the overworked implosion that you have so rightfully earned.

Here's how the Twins need to fare in their last 25 games for us each to win

If the Twins win 9 games or less, Stinky wins
If the Twins win 10-14 games, I win
If the Twins win 15 or more games, Gouger wins.

Things are looking up...get it? Get it?

Now, you can start to see the challenge here...my father-in-law needs the Twins to post a winning record over the final month of the season, in the heat of a playoff race, at a time when the bullpen is exhausted, the starting pitching is inconsistent and the opponents are desperate not to have any bad losses.


Good thing he's such an optimist.

So...Who do we play for the next 10 games? Chicago at home for 2, the Angels at home for 4, the Indians on the road for 3, and one spare game in Chicago.
Who has the edge? Call me crazy, but I'll say me. The Twins have a winning record against exactly one team left on their schedule...and it's the White Sox. If they grab two of those three and one from the Indians, they'll be in a good place for the next set of ten (featuring more White Sox, more Indians, and the surprisingly Twins-averse Tigers). Provided that the Angels don't crush our souls, I could well be on my way to sweet, sweet scotch.

Welcome back, Gulf of Tonkin

What matters most this week? It has to be the bullpen. With the offense by turns effective and exhausted, and the starting pitching in "Gibson, Hughes, prepare to lose" mode, it rests on the increasingly underrested bullpen arms to save the day. So here's hoping that Logan Darnell, Lester Oliveros, Michael Tonkin and AJ Achter are up to the challenge.

The Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame

Once again the sounds of horsehide hitting leather mitts is resounding throughout the sunny fields of Arizona and Florida, and if we ever get to turn off our snowblowers we might just hear it up here in the towns teams call home during the summer.

As is our custom every year at this time, we're spending part of spring training remembering those who make the game such fun to watch. So we're holding elections to the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame which honors not baseball excellence but generally being amusing. Let the gatekeepers of Cooperstown worry about whose numbers are the best and who's morally pure enough worthy to enshrine, we'll just remember the funny things players did and make a goofy photoshop for them on Opening day.

As we suggested back in October, there's only one way to adequately judge a player: our totally made up and in no way scientific statistic AARP (Amusement Above Replacement Player [scale -10 to 10]). Below are this year's nominees and their AARP. Reminder, to be elected you must have either 75% or the highest vote total in the class, and to be held over to next year's ballot you need at least 5% of the vote--which is usually one vote or more.

You can vote through the poll on our personal website or leave a comment below to give your opinion added weight.

Returning Nominees
Joe Nathan

The Good--Gung ho closer with a penchant for made up rock anthems, facial hair, making farting noises with his mouth while stressed and piracy.
The Bad--Occasionally a little too fond of giving himself a higher degree of difficulty in saves.
AARP: 8.7

Denard Span

The Good--Steadily excellent play in center, quiet consistency at the plate, perfect nickname tie in with Menards.
The Bad--Chilled out attitude made him seem a little more aloof and harder to love than peers
AARP: 3.8

Delmon Young

The Good--Falls into the "So-Bad-It's-Good" genre of fielders...like Sharknado but with a glove. Mediocrity always masked slightly better than mediocre talent.
The Bad--Toolish behavior, general anti-semitism.
AARP: -0.9

Carl Pavano

The Good--Durable, reliable, has a heckuva mustache
The Bad--Not much personality to be noted beyond the mustache.
AARP: 2.7

Jesse Crain

The Good--Patches of impressive pitching, solid goatee and general kindness to the bloggers of this site.
The Bad--Few standout characteristics.
AARP: 2.0

Francisco Liriano

The Good--Flashes of brilliance, other flashes of stupidity, attributed silly amount of success to chewing gum, devastating slider
The Bad--Cranky and surly at times, as unpredictable as your crazy-ex but without any of the attractiveness.
AARP: 2.6

Tsuyoshi Nishioka

The Good--Briefly seemed like proof the Twins were going world wide. Tried really hard. Falls into the "So-bad-it's-still-pretty-bad" genre of fielders...like MegaShark versus Crocasaurus stuck on just the Jaleel White scenes.
The Bad--Created a lot of animosity pitting furious fans against merely exaperated fans
AARP: -0.6

Scott Baker

The Good--Consistent and solid starting pitcher. Once had his protective cup get lost in his pants.
The Bad--Injuries made his recent impact as a source of amusement minimal.
AARP: 2.1

Ben Revere

The Good--Thoroughly exciting and excitable fan favorite who loved to play the game
The Bad--Not around long enough to really make an impact or get a nickname
AARP: 2.3

Alexie Casilla

The Good--Absolutely passionate, strangely clutch, responsible for some of the most exciting moments in team history
The Bad--Generally an unknown in town, too inconsistent to become beloved.
AARP: 1.9

No longer eligible: Kevin Slowey, Luke Hughes, Jason Marquis, Matt Capps, Jason Kubel (resigned)

New Nominees
Justin Morneau
The Good--An MVP, a perennial all-star, a tenacious club-leader (even getting punched by Torii Hunter), goofy canuck, and the possessor of a widely admired backside.
The Bad--He hasn't quite been up to the old Morneau-snuff since a concussion, and despite his widely beloved nature his nicknames (Dr. Neau; Brawny; The Canadian Club) don't quite measure up.
AARP: 3.0

Ryan Doumit
The Good--Consistent refusal to button all his uniform created our nickname  "Ryan Suave", occasional outbursts of power were sincerely appreciated, penchant for eye black
The Bad--Consistently inconsistent. Poor defense and feeble hitting gave him little playing time and less love
AARP: 1.9

Jamey Carroll
The Good--Responsible for an often enjoyable game we played on this site called "Country Superstar" Jamey Carroll--which involved inventing silly psuedo-country songs based on being an aging middle infielder like: "My Defense Looks a lot Better After a Couple Beers".
The Bad--The whole playing thing wasn't his greatest strength....shame that was so important to the game.
AARP: 1.6



Liam Hendricks
The Good--Australian always seemed promising, and offered lots of Australia related jokes
The Bad--Never lived up to promise.
AARP: 0.7

Andrew Albers

The Good--Terrific story of triumph over adversity and dedication, including a scintillating stretch of scoreless innings.
The Bad--Everything after the strong start.
AARP: 0.9

This year, in addition to the recently released and traded players we're also running a veteran's ballot (in honor of the five year anniversary of our first inductee: Bert Aberforth Blyleven (whom we never saw play, but found hilarious anyway).

Veterans on our ballot and their AARP ratings are below.
Early Days
Cesar Tovar
The Good--Aside from the undeniably quirky and amusing playing of every position in one game, "Pepito" actually had a solid career both in the box and on the base paths, helping team to an AL title in 1965 and division titles in '69 and '70. Part of a stellar Centerfield tradition for the Twins.
The Bad--Didn't make much impact in the postseason. Relatively short peak of powers, fading off badly in the early 70s
AARP: 3.3


Mudcat Grant
The Good--Folksy and fun pitcher with a passion for music. Served as a top starter for the 1965 staff. Works to promote the history and future of African-American players in the majors.
The Bad--Three years is a very short run with the Twins.
AARP: 3.8


Glory Years
Dan Gladden
The Good--Tenure with team coincides with both world titles, including championship-winning run in 1991. Forerunner of gritty determined Twins players. AKA "Dazzle". Crotchety but amusing announcer
The Bad--Titles may be timing as much as talent. Hair was a mullet. Crotchety announcing. Grit and pluck are overrated.
AARP: 2.8

Al Newman
The Good--Plucky, scrappy utility infielder. Part of major league record triple-play combinations, later became coach famous for waving players home and butt patting.
The Bad--Again grit and pluck are overrated. Having an 0-31 hitless streak is too often forgotten, many would rather not hear about an association with recent coaching staffs.
AARP: 2.0

Recent Standouts
Corey Koskie
The Good--Excellent defender, solid hitter, founder of a goofy clubhouse-aesthetic, Canadian willingly returns and offers support for the team since retirement. Inspiration for my mother's rhyming game ["Koskie, Koskie, Show Us What you Gots-ki!"]
The Bad--Concussion and frequent injuries ended his career

AARP: 3.7

Doug Mientkiewicz
The Good--Gold medalist, World Series Champion, gold glove winning first baseman, incredibly popular hitter (despite average performance), gladly spoke his mind and inspired most awkward rhyming game [Mientkiewicz, Mientkiewicz...Make me a Sandwhich!]
The Bad--Friend to A-Rod. Awkwardly toolish after helping Red Sox win World Series.
AARP: 3.2

Closing Arguments

In case you haven't noticed; there is a poll available at the right side of this screen that invites you to vote for the next members of the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame.

This is not a Hall of Fame for the greatest Twins players in history--just as this is not the greatest blog in Twins history--instead this Hall of Fame aspires to be what we aspire to be: a place for the fun, the quirky and the things that make you laugh and smile while watching a game. Our first inductee was the master of farts Bert Blyleven, then hyperactive center-fielder/puppy personified Carlos Gomez, then the dictionary definition of scrappiness Nick Punto.

Today we have nine nominees vying for election...it takes 75% to get elected (or at least the top vote getter) and 10% to stay on the ballot for next year. And since the most entertaining thing that has been on this winter (other than Downton Abbey, obviously)  has been the spirited exchange of ideas/interminable car wreck of political aspirations known as the Republican Presidential Debates--we thought we'd give each candidate a chance to make their final case for enshrinement. Consider their claims and cast your ballot at the right--only 4 days left to vote! Make them count!

Jesse Crain 

(the only returning candidate from last year)

I believe that the reasons I would make a good Hall of Famer can be best summarized through a detailed analysis of the inter-related ideas of existentialist philosophers like Viktor Frankl and Austrian economist Friedrich Hayek, you see following the inhuman betrayal of our shared human values...[5 minutes later]...leaving the only possible explanation for both the meaning of life and the reason for a limited government: my excellent slider! Thank you.

Jim Thome

I never tried to make lofty, absurd promises to Twins Territory, I just spoke softly and carried a big stick that hit big homeruns. The citizens of Twins Territory don't need promises, they need a calm, steady, potato-ish presence in the line up, I did that proudly for two years. I even walked around with a big blue ox, because hey, I figured y'all would like it. If elected to the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame, I will be polite, dignified and hit home runs...you're welcome.

Delmon Young

You people never thought I'd do the things I did, but I always surprised you! Just when it looked like a ball would fly over my head for a devastating double, I'd randomly decide to leap and find the thing! Just when it looked like I'd catch the ball for an inning ending out, I'd lose it in the sun or the roof, or a cloud! Admit it, you could never predict what I'd do next! I'd always leave you guessing! What's more exciting than having that: EVERY SINGLE BALLGAME!! Elect me to the Peanuts Hall of Fame and who knows what I'll do? Ground into a double play? Try to leg out a triple? Establish a colony on the moon? WHO KNOWS?!? ELECT ME AND FIND OUT!!!

Joe Nathan

BLAGHERAGHERAGHERAGH!!!! STRIKEOUTS! GERAAAAGHHERAGAAAAAGGA!!! WINNING!!!!! AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGH!!! VOTE JOE!!! BLARK!!!

This may be our last chance to refer to Dread Pirate Joe Nathan
We had to take it

Kevin Slowey

I know a little something about entertainment, and I know a little something about job creation. I provided you fans with countless games of entertainment, when I found a good pitching groove and suddenly turned in 7 or 8 innings of near total domination--that was entertaining. When I didn't, and I left after 3 or 5 innings in total confusion and disarray--well, I was just making sure that our bullpen guys had opportunities to prove themselves. Otherwise they'd be without big league contracts, and salaries, and their kids would suffer and the backbone of our society (middle relievers) would collapse! You wouldn't want that to happen would you? Of course not...so, that's why you should vote for me...I'm entertaining, and I'm doing my part to make pitching staffs strong again for ourselves, and our children.

Jose Mijares

I did three things that make me worth of being a Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Famer. I threw the ball really hard. I didn't sue when these bloggers photoshopped my head on a Princess drawing. And, uhh...uhh....oops.

Jason Kubel

Sure, I could tell you why I deserve election, but look at these other candidates! Kevin Slowey talks about putting relievers to work, but he single handedly put Boof Bonser out of a job! (What about Boof?!?) And Delmon Young? He's a serial flip-flopper: "I'll catch the ball. I won't catch the ball. I'll hit the ball. I won't ever hit the ball." How do we know the real Delmon Young is here? And I think that Joe Nathan is a secret african pirate who tried to turn Twins Territory into a socialist society where fluttering your lips replaced English as the national language!* I'm Jason Kubel, and I play baseball...vote for me!

*This message paid for by Smirking For America

Jim Hoey

Umm...I'm just gonna leave...

Michael Cuddyer

Sure, I could tell you about the all-star appearance, the charity work, the strong arm in right field, the steady professional hitting, the magic tricks, the ability to play any position Gardy asked me. But I think you're all sick of campaigning, and besides, isn't this enough? [Smiles, a soft *ping* is heard, everyone is happy]

So there you go, the choice is yours Twins fans; cast your votes in the poll (for as many as you like) and we'll photoshop the winning plaques by opening day!

Wish you were here

It's a holiday special post here at Peanuts From Heaven. While this time of the year is normally associated with large shiny objects with big bows on them, we've always more inclined to spend these days  appreciating our loved ones. With both our families in spitting distance from our condo, we have plenty of family to spend the day with: parents can help us reminisce, siblings will goof off with us, and pets will allow us to dress them up in adorable elfin costumes.

As much as we love the family, we peanuts can't help but think about those who aren't around any more.- And after this year as Twins fans there are lots of old favorites who are not around the land of 10,000 lakes. We love our baseball family, and while we know there's little point in reminiscing, we can't help but feel like the right thing to do is share our gratitude for the years of entertainment and amusement that some of our (now former) twins gave us. So, today we'd like to send out our year end thank you cards to those erstwhile members of the Minnesota 9 who now find themselves playing elsewhere.

Dear Jim Thome,

Our thoughts exactly, Delmon

Thank you for being our very own Paul Bunyan slugger. We know you were hoping that we could win the World Series for you  and that didn't come close to happening. But knowing that you'd turn up every day, behave like a pro, and occasionally try out a Minnesota accent makes you awesome. We hope you enjoy Philadelphia (kiss the Liberty Bell for us).


Dear Delmon Young,
Thank you for being the inspiration of one of our earliest gimmicks here at PFH: Supraction. If anyone encapsulated the fine Twins art of accidentally doing something good in a way that left the opponents surprised, distracted and utterly incapable of withstanding our offensive assault, it was you (probably because nobody expected you to do anything impressive...ever). Sure you could be prickily and you ordered your Johnny Walker Blue with 7-Up, but you were ours and for that we're grateful.

Blagheragh

Dear Joe Nathan,
Thank you for the horse flutters, and the arm pumping and the stand up and shout and giving us the feeling that if we could just have the lead after the 8th inning then we should be victorious. It's hard to believe that you're turning in your Lake Calhoun piracy for the chance to eat brisket in Dallas, but we'll wish you well (unless you forget to bring us some brisket when the Rangers come to town)

Dear Kevin Slowey,

Slowey and Mijares at left, after their capture by
a villainous pirate umpire

Thank you for asking out my old co-worker. I'm sorry she turned you down. Thank you for appearing on the Onion. I'm sorry the show was cancelled shortly after your appearance. Best of luck in Colorado, we hope they have more willing single ladies and a greater appreciation of your grisly sense of humor.



Dear Jose Mijares,
Thank you for never suing us for defamation of character despite repeated reference to the whole "Pretty Princess Mijares" character. You're truly an understanding gentleman. Enjoy Kansas City, we have a hunch you'll like the barbecue down there.

Dear Jason Kubel,
Thank you for all your tireless work raising awareness about the "Running is Stupid" campaign. Your power-hitting/slow-trotting around the basepaths was a valuable combination and we hope more of the ground-ball prone rookies in the organization take your lead and swing for the fences. We hope that they savor your smirk in Arizona.


Dear Jim Hoey,
Thank you for...ummm...uhh....thank you for not minding that we can't think of anything to thank you for.


Dear Michael Cuddyer,
Thank you. For the great throws from right field. For the consistent clubhouse leadership. For the powerful bat. For the dimples, and the startling catches, and the clutch hitting, and the willingness to play 2nd base, and 1st, and center, and pitcher. Thank you for magic tricks. Thank you for charity work. Thank you for grit and pluck and pre-game line-up cards. Thank you for being the guy we wanted to see in the batter's box; because you looked so calm, hit so well, and took the team's success so much to heart. Thank you for seeming like the player who would most likely smile bemusedly at our shenanigans. Thank you.

This photoshop is officially retired...*tear*

We've said our thank you's and we meant them all. If you want to thank any of these guys a little more please vote in the poll at the right for the next class of Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Famers (a hall of fame for those who weren't necessarily the best, but were the most entertaining part of a Twins game). You can vote for as many players as you want as many times as you want.

Next week we'll come back with that other part of the holiday season: comparing all the cool stuff/free agents we now have. But for now we hope you savor the holiday whereever you are...and oh yeah, thank you for reading, whomever you are.

Adieu Dear Delmon, Adieu

As we leave Detroit glowing with victory we must now say farewell to the man we traded when we arrived in Michigan: Delmon Damarcus Young.

Several years ago we Peanuts noticed that Delmon had an uncanny ability to reach base in ways that seemed completely implausible. He seemed to lead the team in pop-ups that got lost in the Dome, singles that skidded off of pebbles and following two weak ground outs with a monstrous home run. He seemed to thrive by surprising and distracting the opposition...so we merged the words and claimed that he "supracted" them. Later we realized that the Twins' resident magician should also be a part of this magical art and developed a whole shtick about Cuddyer & Young, Masters of Supraction (TM).

(You can read all about the origin of Supraction here, and see the complete annals of Delmon & Cuddy's supraction-tastic exploits here)

But as Delmon donned a different jersey and Cuddy sat on the bench nursing an injured neck, we wondered how Supraction would survive and thus imagined the following moments.

[In the Tiger dugout before game 1]

Delmon: So yeah, I could totally teach you guys some Supraction-tastic skillz. It'll totally help win the division and maybe even the World Series!

Miguel Cabrera: I don't know, just hitting the ball hard has worked pretty well for me.

Jhonny Peralta: Yeah, and I use the magical powers of my misplaced "h"...I think I'm okay, but maybe the younger guys like Brennan Boesch and Austin Jackson could use it.

Delmon: What do you think coach?

Jim Leyland: [Inaudible mumble, grumble, spit]

Delmon: ...was that a yes or a no?

Jim Leyland: [Grumble, spit, mumble]

Delmon: ...ooookay...here...just watch what it can do...I'm gonna totally supract Liriano in my first at bat because, hey! I'm wearing a different uniform and not in left field...he'll be surprised, he'll be distracted and I'll supract a home run!!

Jim Leyland: [Spit, grumble, mumble, spit]

Of course, Delmon went out and did just that, and Jim Leyland responded by clapping his hands, then mumbling and spitting. The next day, Cuddy, seemed dispirited.

Cuddy: [Sigh]

Jim Thome: Hi there Michael...something troubling you?

Cuddy: Oh, Jim, it's nice of you to ask, but...I don't think you would understand.

Thome: I may not understand, but I'll always listen. C'mon Cuddy...Talk to Thome...

Cuddy: Well, Jim. You know how I like magic and sleight of hand tricks and surprising/distracting the opposition with my myriad skills of awesomeness?

Thome: Boy, I sure do! Your magic is SO COOL!

Cuddy: Well, I used to use those skills to win games with Delmon. And now that he's out there playing for Detroit I just feel...

Thome: Strangely empty in your soul?

Cuddy: Yeah! I mean, I know that Supraction will still be a part of the game, but it will be hard to replicate that old feeling of pure, randomly inspired, Delmon-rific, accidental awesomeness.

Thome: Would you feel better if I tried to Supract people by hitting more homeruns?

Cuddy: Thanks Jim, but your homers are kind of expected...maybe if you suddenly stole third base--

Thome: Yeah.............that ain't gonna happen buddy. But hey, why don't you look for a NEW friend to instruct in the art of Supraction. That way, the spirit of it can live on and on in Twins Territory.

Cuddy: Wow, you really are just, ridiculously awesome aren't you?

Thome: Yeah, pretty much. Wanna hug?

Cuddy: Yes. Yes I do.

And so it was that Cuddy began to search for new masters of Supraction. And in a few short moments he realized that the answer had been standing next to Delmon in the outfield for lo these many months. So yesterday, this happened.

Delmon in the first inning: Doo-de-doo...time to hit the ball really really far, and make all Detroit real happy! [Swings, blasts it to center and starts to trot until Ben Revere snags the ball over his shoulder]...Woah...umm...that was surprising...

Delmon in the fourth inning: Okay...here I go, ready to supract Carl to hell. [Swings and cranks it to right center, begins another double trot only to see Ben Revere run the ball down like a lion running down a gazelle] Woah...did he? What do I...I feel all distracted and...wait a second!

[Delmon turns to the Twins dugout and sees Cuddy grinning at him]

Cuddy: SUPRACTION SUCKA!!!

So Ben Revere, quiet, unassuming, broad-smiling, ball-chasing, catcher-running-over Ben Revere has become the latest student in the art of Supraction. We wish Delmon well teaching Supraction in Detroit, but we're even more excited to see Cuddy take on Revere as his Supraction paduwan.

Happy Delmon Young Day!!

So...last night was awesome, and though our record is still less than sterling, a come from behind win in the Bronx sweetens this whole road trip dramatically. Best of all it came at the hands of Peanuts from Heaven favorite Delmon Young. We've advocated for Delmon before, believing him to be cooler than others thought. We've seen his ability to surprise the opposition and causing so much distraction in the enemy that they are invariably lost within their own minds. (We call this the art of Supraction (TM)--a talent Young shares with Michael "Magic-Man" Cuddyer, and their pet albino tiger)

So when Del blooped a double to right field and supracted Rope Necklace Aficionado Nick Swisher to tie the game, there was much jubilation among we Peanuts. Even more so when Batgirl (the inspirational godmother to this blog) declared today DELMON YOUNG DAY! And because around here we do whatever Batgirl says, we'd like to offer this song to help everyone sing the legend of Delmon Young. {Note: We started this last night on twitter, and envision it as set to the music that starts at 30 seconds, here.}

Attend the Tale of Delmon Young

He beat New York when a bat he swung

He broke the hearts of all Yankee fans, and excitedly ruined their dastardly plans

He stung the ball as few have stung....did Delmon Young

The Yankee Slayer in Left Field!

He plied his trade at Target Field

And there his talent seemed concealed

But in the Bronx he showed his stuff, and proved that the Twins were actually tough

Did Delmon....yes Delmon Young

The Yankee Slayer in Left Field!

Swing your bat and crush, Delmon, make those jerkwads blush!

Delmon beats the punks whose cleats have terrorized!

Attend the tale of Delmon Young

Who made the Yankees feel like dung

Then taught his mates to score some runs, for he wouldn't want to have all of the fun

Not Delmon...not Delmon Young

The Yankee Slayer in Left Field

HAPPY DELMON YOUNG DAY!!

Credit Supraction with the Assist

For those new to the blog, you may have noticed various crazy random happenstances that helped the Twins during this series, a phenomenon we have defined as: "Surpraction". A tactic which combines the sudden shock of "surprise" with the perpetual discombobulation of "distraction" (Surpr-action). We at PFH have lovingly chronicled moments of supraction* pretty much since our inception and have long credited two masters of the art: Michael "Magic" Cuddyer, and Delmon "Holy-Crap-I-Can't-Believe-That-Worked" Young. (See image below)

And while most of this season has depended on more traditional skills such as "playing well," and "being talented", from time to time Supraction rears its head and deserves a shout at, as was the case this series when not once BUT TWICE! we managed to drive in runs with balls which caromed off third base leaving various Pale Hoser Third Basemen Surprised, Distracted...SUPRACTED YO! So congrats to Jason Repko and Danny Valencia for learning this fine art, if they didn't Delmon and Cuddy might sic their albino tiger on them.

*Note: I realize that "Supraction" might be better spelled with another "r" before the "p", but we rule this blog and we rule that spelling is for sukers.

Finally, while there is much to celebrate with this sweep, we feel obliged to acknowledge the good people of Chicago, and in an effort to promote cultural understanding at the end of this long season, we provide the following chart so that we can all communicate more effectively. Please refer to this chart whenever you want to find common ground with the White Sox fan in your life.

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

An EPIC DUCKING WIN over Toolishness

Just savor that image a little while longer. Hugs...lots of hugs...and Jim Thome, ol' man Jim Thome looking like he's just found a pony wrapped up under a christmas tree made of ice cream. Jim Thome looks like he's oh so happy to beat the White Sox, because we all are!

We won. We won against the White Sox. We won after being down 3 runs in the 9th inning. We won after losing the first game of this series which knocked us to 4.5 games out of first. We won against perhaps the sketchiest looking pitcher in the entire American League.

(Seriously, I'm sure Freddy Garcia's a nice guy, but seriously? Can you tell which one of the guys pictured on either side of this paragraph is a Jersey Shore cast member, and which is the afore mentioned White Sox pitcher?)

Another beautiful moment in this victory was the fact that the biggest hits in the 9th came from Cuddy and Delmon, our dearly beloved Masters of Supraction (TM). It was almost as though they were hitting Jersey Shore style toolishness in the face (assuming that an abstract concept have a metaphorical face).

Honestly, I can easily imagine this trash talk conversation:

Cuddy, Delmon or any Twins Hitter really: "Forsooth, I shall smite thy pitch Sir Tool."

Bobby Jenks, Freddy Garcia, any White Sox Pitcher: "You better not hope I don't find out your name, bro!!!!!!!"

Twins Hitter: "My name is on the back of my jersey good sir...now please throw a pitch."

[Pitch is thrown, hit is made, yelling continues]

White Sox Pitcher: "GET THE F*#^ OUT OF HERE BRO, THAT'S ONE SHOT KID!"

Twins Hitter: "Aye, verily, 'tis only one shot...but it has foiled your plans...fare thee well and might I add: Nyeah-nyeahnyeah-NYEAH!!!"

In short victory is awesome, so let's revel in that one more time:

Sigh...awesome...SO awesome

(P.s. If you haven't yet, vote for the Twins Pepsi Refresh Project, or any Pepsi Refresh Project really...well done MLB, well done)

2 days of Supraction

_____PLACE OBLIGATORY APOLOGY FOR ALL-CONSUMING GRADUATE SCHOOL WORK LOAD HERE_________Continuing blogging.....NOW

For those of you uninitiated fans of our blog you may want to know the definition of one of our favorite words: "SUPRACTION (n): An act combining the arts of surprise and distraction which results in an unexpected benefit for the individual who performs said act."

We have many fans of supraction on the Twins, but perhaps no one is a bigger fan of it than Delmon Young, left fielder, scotch connoisseur, lover. Delmon uses Supraction and uses it well, in fact, at times it seems like he only ever succeeds because of it, the weight loss, the sudden bursts of athleticism the down right flukiness of some great plays, last night was no exception as Delmon's supraction skillz were on display, as is evidenced by his dugout conversation with fellow Supraction stud/amateur magician: Michael Cuddyer.

Delmon: [Sigh]

Michael: [while confounding reserve catcher Drew Butera by vanishing Butera's lunch money] What's wrong Delmon?

Delmon: You know Michael, I keep hitting the ball hard, but it doesn't make a difference, do you ever wonder if hitting the ball with force is a gigantic, horrible, life threatening mistake?

Michael: ....No Delmon...No I don't...

Delmon: Sure, you don't...hitting the ball hard is what puts the dimples in your cheeks [Michael smiles and a soft but discernible PING! is heard] It just doesn't seem to make a difference for me.

Michael: I know Delmon, but just think...now that you can hit the ball hard, if you suddenly don't hit the ball hard it would be surprising...

Delmon: ...yeah?

Michael: ...AND distracting...

Delmon: ...yeah?

Michael: It would be SUPRACTING!!!!

Delmon: Oh, Cuddy you can always cheer me up

[And so it was that Delmon hit a meek little nubber to the short stop...who missed it, loading the bases, now on the base paths Delmon and Michael conduct their next conversation via telepathy]

Delmon: That was fun...

Michael: Yeah...

Delmon: You know what would be even more fun?

Michael: Mentally inserting a Javanese Jumping Bean into the balls that the Indians are pitching?

Delmon: How did you know?

Michael: We're conducting this conversation via telepathy, Delmon, there's literally nothing I don't know.

Delmon: Even the fact that I cry every time I watch and/or read: Bridge to Teribithia?

Michael: ...Yes, Delmon, even that.

[Through their combined mental powers Delmon and Michael cause Javanese Jumping Bean laced baseballs to cause a walk of JJ Hardy, and then a wild pitch which results in both Michael and Delmon coming into score on one errant throw. Back in the dugout they discuss their results]

Delmon: God, I'd forgotten how fun Supraction was! Let's do it every inning!!!

Michael: Wait a second Delmon, if we always supract people it won't be surpising...

Delmon: ...or distracting...

Michael: Maybe we ought to not hit at all for like...the next 10 innings...then I'll suddenly hit a home run! And a few innings later...A TRIPLE!!!

Delmon: But what if the Indians hit the ball well? Wouldn't we be running the risk of losing...to Cleveland?

Michael: Hmmmm...good point...

Delmon: [Snaps fingers] I've got it! I'll suddenly field my position effectively! No one will expect that to happen!

Michael: No Delmon, I don't suppose they will [Hearty laughter...and...SCENE!]

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.

This just in...

Supraction is back sucka-dawgs! Or sucka-siberian Tigers as the case may be...

Cuddy homers, Delmon homers, Delmon even finds a way to get a triple (Triple Delmon, tsk, tsk, what would Jason Kubel say?) And we're only 2 games back.

Please, please, please media, keep ignoring us--supraction works best when you least expect it.

SUPRACTION-SUCKA!!!

Forgive the delay

in our commentary on this, so momentous a series, but we are, as the French say: "le tired".

As Stinky preps ceaselessly for her Business School Mid-terms (or Bizness Skool MizzleTizzles, as the kids are calling them these days) and my eyes continue to blur after several hours on the long Ohio/Indiana Turnpikes, we can take solace in these immutable facts.

1) Supraction is alive and well just ask Don Kelly as he got whacked upside the head by Orlando Cabrera's first supractalicious double of his Twins' career.

2) Michael Cuddyer continues to cement his place in our peanutty hearts as a man, not for his season...but for all time.

3) Hey! If we pitch well, and hit well good things might just happen to us after all.

4) Even though we are three games back we still have a shot--whether or not we want to have a shot (if having a shot means another trip to face the EVIL Yankees in New York...perhaps we want to pass on that, then again, perhaps we could give added confidence to Delmon and Gogo and Denard and Kubel and all out little woebegone pitchers by showing that with hard work and diligence you can achieve great things...we are undecided, the way the Twins have played all season, I kind of think that they are undecided too....*shrug*)

5) Bizness Skool MizzleTizzles and driving on Turnpikes are not the best way to spend a day.

6) Regardless of Bizness Skool MizzleTizzles and Turnpikes, the Twins will always be there, to give a laugh and a sigh and a cheery view of tomorrow.

YIPEEE!!! (Let's just kick back and enjoy the rest of the season...OH, and be sure to send good vibes Stinky's way)

Supraction's New Side Kick

We here at Peanuts from Heaven have a new best buddy in the Twins Clubhouse. He became our buddy during the July 4th game, but then vanished from view...until last night...

You all know the story--but here are the basics--we needed to win...we always need to win...not because it's a complex or anything, but just because the stinking Tigers don't ever seem to lose. We need to stay close and capitalize on their mistakes--which basically means never making mistakes our selves.

To this end we employ two men who manage to appear unthreatening at first, but then explode in furious blazes of bad-assitude when you least expect it--we call this art: Supraction. Joe Mauer, Justin Morneau, Joe Nathan--all-stars all, but they are not the aforementioned badasses. They've come to be respected, revered, feared. Michael Cuddyer and Delmon Young on the other hand....nope...no fear.

Admittedly, Delmon is better at the non-threatening thing than the bad-assitude thing, but he can do it when he needs to, but Cuddy, ohhh Cuddy, with dimples that deep busting a cap in people's asses does not seem likely--and yet, he does it with the glove and he does it with the bat.

Last night he did it with both...twice. Then came our problem--the fine and subtle art of this thing we call Supraction is lost on our pitchers--they just can't manage to deal with it, and in that spirit Jose Mijares and Matt Guerrier lost our lead. But then, our favorite buddy was back.

Little Known Fact: Both Stinky and I are Aquarians born in 1983--with makes us not only Aquarians but Boars in the Chinese zodiac calendar. Even less known fact: Jose Morales was born a scant four days after stinky, making him another Aquarian Boar--or--as we prefer to be called: "AQUA PIGS!!!"

It's good to have our very own Aqua Pig back in the dugout--because nothings more suprising, or distracting as a amphibian swine. Especially when that amphibian swine is capable of late inning-pinch hit heroics.

Welcome home Jose Morales--we missed you.

These are a few of my favorite things

Sure, I could write about Cuddy making history--about the secrets Carl Pavano learned as an undercover Yankpire (determined to bring down their evil organization)--I could write about Trey Hillman needing lessons in crazy from Gardy, or the wonders of MLB.Tv. providing me with a Sunday game with Dick and Coom-dog.

But why talk about it....when I could SING!!

Doubles on bobbles in left center fields

Gogo off sprinting with swift turning wheels

Joe Mauer's title as the batting king

These are a few of my favorite things

Big Justin's bat and 400 foot blast-ez,

Joe Nathan's slider drops guys on their asses,

Casilla, Cabrera and Harris' flings,

These are a few of my favorite things

Blackburn and Slowey and Baker all healthy,

Delmon's supraction...going all stealthy.

When Cuddy smiles and dimples go ping!
These are a few of my favorite things

When all hope's lost

When we're losing

When I'm feeling bad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so sad

Thank you Twins for giving me some of my favorite things during this series. I will return the favor by infringing on copyright law--you're welcome.

[Side note: Tomorrow's first day of school for both Stinky and self, hopefully we can celebrate with blogs aplenty--if not--just pretend]

Well Done

Stinky's gonna cover this series in greater detail but let me point out a couple things real quick:

1) Mark Buerhle pitches pretty damn well--I mean, a perfect game is one thing, doing it for 14.66 innings...that's just wicked good. I know we've had a lot of fun at Buerhle's expense. I mean, he was the man we claimed could never resist sexy mermaid cake. Still and all, well done Beuerhle. Have some cake.

1a) Speaking of well done, well done us. Probably the classiest thing I've seen from fans in a long time, applauding an opposing player, and one from a rival--a rival we are battling for a division lead, and we give their best pitcher a standing O. Who needs a championship when you're just awesome pure and simple--and also humble.

2) I want everyone to note something--in Texas we had a discussion regarding not using homeruns as our sole source of runs--then came the trip to Cali, where we forgot that discussion, and suffered as a result. These last two games, when we needed wins, we slashed, we bunted, we ran, we used the surprising the distracting bottom of the line-up and we won.

Coincidence, or the fine fine art of supraction?

How to comeback from a hosing:

Please forgive the delay in our posts--but I mean, c'mon...would you want to blog during this series of doom and devastation?

After our Monday's game/screwjob, we chose to wait until our wroth waned, we here at Peanuts from Heaven took a deep breath and came right back the next night, eyes focused on some sign of superb silliness that would give us a chance to feel proud as we continued our roadtrip out west.

What we saw, was this conversation in the dugout, prior to the game.

[Michael Cuddyer sits despondently, with duct tape over his mouth at the end of the bench, when Delmon Young approaches him]

DELMON: Yo, Cuddy, what up?

CUDDY: mummmawummawumma!!

DELMON: Hang on, you have duct tape over your mouth...[Delmon rips the duct tape off] what was that?

CUDDY: I said, I'll KILL YOU STUPID ASS UMPIRE WITH YOUR BLOWN CALL AND YOUR--

DELMON: Shhh, shhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhh...it's okay Cuddy, it's okay...I'm here [Delmon takes Cuddy in his arms and rocks back and forth slowly, while murmuring words of comfort]

CUDDY: [Words punctuated with sobs] They're. Just. So. Mean. I. Was. Safe!

DELMON: I know, I know, I was there. It was awful Cuddy, I mean, Gogo warned us not to get too homerun happy...and what happened to us? We got beaten by homeruns...Gogo was right

GOGO: [Running up to them with a gleam of hope in his eye] I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING?!?!?! [Gogo takes off running around the stadium at supersonic speeds] YIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...........

DELMON: I mean, even supraction was powerless to stop them.

CUDDY: Su-wha?

DELMON: Don't you remember supraction, Cuddy? You're a master of it, we suprise and distract the opposing team, that's why I slipped a jumping bean into that wild pitch last night. I was at the plate and I magicked it into the ball with my mind...then it bounced and you should have been able to score but...

CUDDY: The umpire was a JERK!! [Gomez completes a lap, "eeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee....."]

DELMON: Yes, he was, but that doesn't mean Supraction wouldn't work Cuddy! C'mon there must be something we can do...

CUDDY: Well...since everyone thinks we just hit home runs now, what if we ALMOST hit home runs...but instead--

DELMON: just hit triples over the heads of outfielders!

CUDDY: It's brilliant!!

DELMON: No one would think I could run to third base!!!

CUDDY: IT'S SURPRISING!!

DELMON: IT'S DISTRACTING!!!

TOGETHER: IT'S SUPRACTING!!!!!!!! YYYYAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!

Delmon and Cuddy join hands and leap in the air as Gogo completes another lap (eeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee........)and the sound of his joy mirrored the joy in their hearts as the strategy was begun and a victory was won.

Welcome back supraction--we have missed you.

And then we lost...and that stank...but Supraction, that was awesome.

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.

Silliness and Intelligence are not incompatible

On a beautiful, warm and fuzzy father's day, before wrapping up their series with the Astros the Twins were doing what all great people do when they are blissfully satisfied with their situation--they sing a nonsense song.

DELMON YOUNG: OHHHHHHHHHH!!! Ba-dabbadee doop--

MICHAEL CUDDYER: Ba-doobedy-bop!

JOE MAUER: Bop-bop-a-doo-wop

JUSTIN MORNEAU: Skeeb-a-dee-

JASON KUBEL: Babba-dee

JOE CREDE: Shabba-dee

ALL [In harmony]: DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OO.

Just then Carlos Gomez comes running into the clubhouse, panting and wheezing, looking about the room frantically.

CUDDYER: What is it boy?

CREDE: Yeah, what's wrong Gogo?

MORNEAU: Did Timmy fall in the well?

KUBEL: Is the barn on fire?

YOUNG: Is there trouble down at the old synagogue?

MAUER: What is it Gogo? Tell us boy.

GOGO: I hear that the Astros are starting...are starting...[Gasps in terror before continuing in a whisper] Their magic WANDY!

ALL: [Everyone pauses, looks at eachother and then in unison goes] HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!

GOGO: Why are you laughing, you noble men, you band of brothers? Why doesn't the threat of the Astros Magic Wandy scare you?

KUBEL: Because you're being silly Gogo.

CREDE: Yeah, magic isn't real 

CUDDYER AND YOUNG: [after sharing a brief glance] Yeeeeahhh....magic isn't real...

MAUER: Besides, I'm batting over .400

MORNEAU: And I'm due

YOUNG: And I've finally remembered that hitting the ball is a good thing to do.

MAUER: Besides--it's Magic Wand, GoGo, Magic Wands would be scary, if they existed, which, they don't.

CUDDYER: And even if they did--

YOUNG: which they don't--

CUDDYER: He's an Astro. No sweat Gogo. We got this.

GOGO: But--but--but--

KUBEL: Does someone need some juice?

GOGO: But...but..........maybe?

MORNEAU: I got it [Walks away, suddenly groaning as his legs become stiffer and sorer, so that when he returns he can only murmur] Energy failing, must rest...must...rest--

GOGO: MOMO!!!

[The game begins and Mauer looks awful in his at bats]

MAUER: *cough*cough*AH-CHOOO!

GOGO: MAU-MAU!!!

KUBEL: Swing! Swing! BLEEEEEECCCCCHHHHH!!!!

GOGO: KOOB-KOOB!!!

CREDE: Hey! That's my sound effect!!! [Runs off crying]

GOGO: CRE-CRE!!!

YOUNG: [Walking to plate] Time to repeat my mantra: "See ball, hit ball, see ball, hit ball, see ball...see ball..."am I missing something? OH YEAH! "swing and miss ball!!!"

GOGO: DEL-DEL!!! Well...It's up to me now!! [Gomez strides to the plate to start a rally with his mad bunt skillz] MOJO GO-OW!!!! [Gomez bunts the ball into his face]

CUDDYER: Wow...I guess that really is a magic Wandy...

If you see a Magic Wandy matching this picture, please report it to local authorities. Prolonged exposure to this magic Wandy can result in soreness, sneezing, vomiting, crying, messed up mantras and bunting the ball into your own face.

YOU ought to be traded, drunk guys!

So... I don't say this often, and maybe I'm completely wrong but the Houston Astros kind of seem like Jerkfaces. I feel like each team has it's own unique aura - the New York Yankees is that of pure evil, the Twins is one of goodness and light and puppy dogs, and the Astros is that of Jerkface.

So perhaps it is the Astros fault that the stench of Jerkfacitude crept into the seats in the Metrodome and infected those seated around us. At first, all seemed well, adorable sprogs free from school roamed the seats while their parents looked on bemusedly. We sat amongst knowledgable passionate Twins fans, hopeful that Kevin "Killthrow" Slowey might dominate and that our vaunted line up might vaunt all over Roy Oswalt's face.

Killthrow did not dominate (but he wasn't bad), our vaunted line up sputtered and lurched (particularly when Jason Kubel's running is stupid campaign pooped all over the basepaths after a lead off double), and beer flowed freely. Then did the Jerkfacedness seep out of everyone around us and concentrate its full fury on Delmon Young.

Now, maybe I'm just a dreamer, but I've always felt that it's not OK to boo someone on your own team. Does Delmon screw up sometimes? Yes. Do we sometimes shake our heads and bury our face in our hands wondering why?? WHY??? Yes. He might be a bit of a wally, but he's OUR wally dammit. If you boo your own guy, you're not a fan of the team, you're a fan of winning and you should just go cheer for the Yankees and leave us in peace.

Besides, every once in a while, just when you think there's no help for old Delmon (or "Delmont" as my dad inexplicably decided to call him somewhere around the 5th inning and no he was not drunk), he does something crazy like hit a line drive straight to center field and somehow get to second base. SUPRACTION SUCKAS!

We could almost hear Delmon from our seats, sulking in the on deck circle as Joe CRE-D drew his walks and gripped his back in pain. We could hear Delmon plotting, scheming, envisioning his Supractalicious acts of Doom.

"Call me a chump [mumblewumble] say I oughta be traded [mumblewumble] You ought to be traded drunk guys in Section 118 Row 9! JUST WATCH THIS!!" So it was thought and so it was Supracted.

Likewise the next inning, when Joe Nathan threw his only bad pitch of the night and Lance Berkman hit a shot to left field we could sense Delmon suddenly realizing that this was his moment. And as he took off in his little mincing run toward the ball we could almost hear him shout: "I GOT IT! I GOT IT! I'M GONNA SUPRACT THE HELL OUT OF THIS ONE!!" All while Carlos Gomez was shouting "BALL! BALL! BALL! BALL! BALL!" And then did they leap, and Delmon shouted "GOGO LET ME CATCH IT! I MUST PROVE MYSELF! I MUST SUPRACT!!!" (he has impressive lung capacity) and Gogo replied "BALL! BALL! BALL! BALL!" And it was caught and it was good and it was.....SUPRACTION