Nostalgia all over the place

Piece of nostalgia #1.
Remeber back in the days of yore (2 years ago) when the Rays were the Devil Rays and they were really bad at baseball? Then last year, they decided to become all awesome (I'm convinced that Jason Bartlett had a lot to do with this), lost the whole "Devil" thing and in doing so appeared to exorcise all sucktasticness from their playing. I was concerned they'd never suck again. I was wrong.
It's pretty obvious that last night, one of 3 things happened:

a) Demons were pissed at the Rays for shunning them last year and decided to possess their arms/gloves to make them screw up all sorts of plays, like so:


or, b) We surprised and distracted them so much that they couldn't help but suck.

or, alternatively, c) the spectre or Sir Sidney Ponson was already upon them, leeching bad baseball into the atmosphere and sucking all the life out of the Rays and also out of Jason Bartlett's hamstring.

I think all of these options are equally likely to have occured.

...which brings us to Nostalgia #2)
Sidney Ponson! Sir Eats-a-lot returns to the dome, pitting his 0 for 3 record against Slowey's 3 for 3. Not to jinx anything but I like symmetry. A nice 0-4/4-0 would be nice.

Undercover Nerd

Stinky and I have discussed the Twins problems, the fact that we are not doing the hitting the way we should, the fact that our starting pitchers (or at least, 2-4/5ths of them) are not pitching the way we normally do. We do not like to press the panic button, but when we have as many chances as we had last night, and we still fail to win...well...we feel not so good.

But there is this. At the start of the year we identified the Rays as the geeks who make good. Overlooked picked upon, and at the end of the season, ahead of you in the standings. But I sincerely believe that no geek, NONE, should be able to hit the ball as far as Carlos Pena hit Dickey's pitch in the 8th. Which leads us to only one conclusion:

Carlos Pena is an UNDERCOVER NERD

The Geek shall inherit the Earth.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Tampa Bay Rays

Reasons we should splatter the Rays in a gooey greenish-yellow guck like a freshly swatted fly:

1. Heavy Lies the Head: The Rays are the Kings of the American League, which is nice for them and all--but it also means that they have a big fat bulls-eye on the back of their uniforms. To some people it would be rude to spoil their fun, to me it seems only fitting that they should be undone by a team so similar to them--rather than the bloated pay-rolls of their NorEasterly rivals. *38 Loathing Points*
2. Presumptuous: Speaking of the Rays rise to prominence, not to whine or anything--but we were scrappy before you Tampa, we were plucky and underestimated and overlooked and we've been overcoming adversity back when you were still debating color schemes for your uniforms. Get in line punks! *19 Loathing Points*

Reasons we should silently trap and release the Rays back to the wild, thus avoiding a traumatic experience for the kids:

1. Existentialist Dilemma: We play a tough scrappy hard-nosed brand of baseball and so do the Rays, the Rays have become successful precisely because they modeled themselves after us to a large extent. So if we destroy the team that's better than us...we become them--but if we destroy the team that's a younger form of us...we will never become old enough to destroy the team that's a younger form of us. (My brain is exploding at the mere possibility of these thoughts.) *-16 Loathing Points*

Final Loathe-o-Meter Rating: 41 Loathing Points

(-5 From Last Year)

Punishment: Epic social embarrassment (at the Prom if at all possible)

At Last!

It's been a rather up and down year, much winning followed by losing, great games followed by not so great games, and for every insanely brilliant performance by Glen Perkins or Jason Kudubel there have been the not so good performances of Scott Baker and Joe Crede.

But the season is still young, and a few poor April performances and early-season losses do not mean the end of the world. And yet...the lack of a certain special something led to sadness in my heart.

And there it was, suprisingly, distractingly, down the first base line in Cleveland. I could almost hear Grady Sizemore's brain working.

"Sex Bomb, Sex Bomb, I'm the Sex Bomb. All of Cleveland turns me on! [Sigh] Trailing 3-1 in the fifth, time to ruin the day of everyone in Twins Territory! I'll just bloop one into right and stun the crowd by stretching it into a double, steal third, use my ESP to make Dr. Cakeburn throw wildly, then run home!"

"Sex Bomb, Sex Bomb, I'm the Sex Bomb. All of Cleveland turns me on! There we go, looping into shallow right, Cassila's going after it, here I go rounding first, it bounced out of his glove and my plan has come to fru---GUGUGUH-WAAAAAAAAAA?!?!?!?!"

For Nick Puto was standing there, ball in glove, and the surprised, the distracted, the SUPRACTED Grady Sizemore was out. For it was always the plan to have Casilla miss the catch, and knock the ball to Morneau, who would, in turn, throw Sizemore out.

You Grady Sizemore have been supracted--so keep your Tom Jones record spinning and maybe give the sieburns a trim. Better luck next time.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Cleveland Indians

As Stinky so smartly pointed out: Shakespeare is awesome--so in honor of the Bard allow me to introduce this edition of Know Thine Enemy with allusions to our most famous fan.

Reasons we should foil the Indians through a complex interplay of poisoned swords, poisoned rings in poisoned goblets, poisoned balls held in poisoned gloves, and poison coated poisons:

1. Chief Wahoo: Again I say, racial caricatures--Not Cool. Stinky may feel a little sorry for them, but until the Indians atone for their offense to a minority with an offense to a majority I will insist they suffer. Might I suggest? *32 Loathing Points*
2. Bob Feller: The man has a museum dedicated to himself...that he built...that he charges admission too...*cou(LAMEASS!)gh!*. *17 Loathing Points*
3. Battle for the Central: Many "experts" have determined that the Indians are our greatest threat to winning the central division this year. So, beating them, would be quite useful in the course of...you know...beating them. *12 Loathing Points*

Reasons we should foil the Indians through a magical and inexplicable Deus Ex Machina

1. The curse: The Cubs have been moaning about their 100 years of pain for at least 99 years. The Red Sox wrote epic novels about their suffering. The Indians have suffered for 60 full seasons now--and the only thing that's come out of that suffering has been the Drew Carey Show. (Which is pretty dang bad, to be honest). Way to tough it out Indians--our empathy. *-30 Loathing Points*
2. Major League: The original Major League movie is pretty dang funny. The second movie was horrifically corny and even funnier. That the Indians inspired two such great movies, redeems them (that they stuck the Twins with the extremely horrific third movie diminishes some of that greatness) *-8 Loathing Points*

Final Loathe-o-Meter Rating: 23 Loathing Points

(-4 Loathing Points from last year)

Punishment: A swirly...but not a super turbo swirly.

This has almost absolutely nothing to do with Baseball....

Disclaimer: I am a giant nerd.
- Stinky

I woke with sleepy eyes, and I recalled
That yester-eve we lost not one but two
Attempts to flay that cursed Boston team.
I wondered what could possibly improve
What seemed to be a horrid, dismal day.
I thought of Baker’s three two-run home runs
And Liriano’s struggles on the mound,
And wondered, will we ever live to see
Our Twinkies in the playoffs? And I saw
In my mind’s eye, Youkilis’ bat connect
With that small sphere of destiny, which sailed
Over the wall, too far to catch – alas.
Thus was our sad downfall embarked upon.

I tried to look on the bright side, and thought
Of Justin Morneau, and his lonely hit.
This only served to make me more depressed,
And so I drank a whole bottle of scotch.
Just kidding. But I felt like doing that.

I then remembered the inspiring bard
Who on this day (allegedly) was born
And whose deep wisdom often does inspire
me to insult my friends in tongues of old.
What words of wisdom, thought I, might he have
To bring some lightness to this most dark day?
Would Shakespeare, if he lived, have cheered the Sox,
Or would he drunkenly cry out “Go Twins!”
And throw a hot dog bun in Wakefield’s face
Or make a bawdy joke at his expense?

I searched the internet for solid proof
That had Bill Shakespeare lived, he would have been
A dedicated fan of our belov’d
Nathan, Mauer, Punto and Morneau*.
And then I came across this saying, which
In my mind, tells me all I need to hear:
“How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?”

This proves, I think that Shakespeare would not cheer
The Yankees, or the Sox of any color**.
For as Twins Fans, we know the value of
Patience. Often do we wait for brighter days
(which usually show up around July)
And live in hope of that post-season dream
(which may or may not grace us come the fall)
Only to walk away in sad defeat,
After one game against the Oakland A’s***.
But still, we loyally flock to the dome,
Our rally caps most solidly in place
To cheer our boys for one more day, until
We take for ours that golden pennant race.

*Mmm…. Morneau
** This is called a “feminine ending." I remember such things from high school english.
*** 2006


Happy Birthday Bill Shakespeare!!!
We know you'd be a Twins fan. And we will immortalize you as such.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The Boston Red Sox

Reasons why we ought to thump the Red Sox with a tube sock full quarters.

1. Pompous Smugness: Red Sox fans cannot help themselves. They are great. Totally great, utterly great, so incredibly great that the whole world would die if it couldn't revel in their greatness. (That's all true, just ask them.) Only the Yankees outdo the Red Sox on the smugness front, so only the Yankees would get a higher score in this category. *62 Loathing Points*
2. Alpha Dog: With two world series titles in the last five years, the Red Sox are always in contention, always near the top of the pecking order, and they certainly act like that. It's quite simple, the Red Sox are the Alpha Dog, the American League pack leader. Now if you beat the Alpha Dog, you become the Alpha Dog. *18 Loathing Points*
3. Old School V. New School: It's quite simple, the Red Sox are Old School baseball, hitting homeruns, drawing walks, moving from one base to the next to the next. This is the kind of baseball that lead to things like steroid abuse and the cult of Billy Beane. But there's a new style of ball sweeping the nation, the scrappy, speedy, stretch-a-single-into-a-double a-double-into-a-triple, sacrifice-the-runner-over kind of baseball. The Rays play that kind of baseball and won last year, The Phillies play that kind of baseball and won last year. We play that kind of baseball. It's time to throw down on behalf of the New School of baseball. Bring it Old School. *33 Loathing Points*

Reasons to swat the Red Sox with a mitten full of kleenex.

1. The Enemy of my Enemy: For all their flaws the Red Sox do hate the Yankees, and drive them crazy. And I do like that about them. If you can cause hatred deep in the soul of the Yankees, you can't be all bad...mostly bad...but not all bad. *-49 Loathing Points*
2. Tradition: The Red Sox do inspire great things, Stephen King's non-evil dead novels, John Updike's whole ouvre, Matt Damon's cinematic work, Ben Affleck's...well...Matt Damon anyway. Love of the Red Sox has led to great great things, recent evil not with standing. *-8 Loathing Points*

Final Loathe-o-Meter Rating: 56 Loathing Points

(+4 Loathing Points from last year)

Punishment: Whoomp upside their heads, say whoomp upside their heads.