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!

The most boring things we have ever heard

So...we lost today...just like we lost when we were in route to Milwaukee. And just like when we were en route to Milwaukee we encountered something a trifle odd during the game. Nothing in the play mind you, just something in the play-by-play from Cardinals announcers.

We don't mean to be snobbish, but we've never heard two more boring announcers than the Cardinals' Mike Shannon and John Rooney. While they failed to describe any play in detail, they had no problem repeating the score ad nauseam for the benefit of the each and every individual who tuned into the game (no matter when they did). While both announcers yawned their way through even exciting plays and pronounced simple phrases with elongated syllables calling balls and Steee-rikes, and repeatedly muttering about the mind-boggling boggletude of the boggling boggleness that is boggleball.

We won't have to listen to them tomorrow. All we have to do is turn up and urge the boys on accordingly.

Tomorrow--one pm--good things.

Know Thine Enemy '09: The St. Louis Cardinals

Reasons we should suffocate the Cardinals like this sweltering heat wave sweeping through the midwest

1) There Can Be Only One: This year the talking heads have decided that the best player in baseball will be determined in one three game series. This three game series. In which our side-burned, sweet singing, glorious leader will be confronted with his greatest challenge ever: the unibrowed, omnihitting, God-fearing force that is Albert Pujols. For the Twins, for Mauer, for glory--Pujols and his team must be destroyed. *35 Loathing points*

2) '87 Redux: As Stinky and I know, the Cardinals were our mortal enemy in October of 1987, which was the first of the Twins championship seasons. And though we won that series, we fared poorly in St. Louis. Now is the time to prove that we can win in St. Louis--with a group of players who were between 3 and 8 years old when we first lost...*12 Loathing Points*

3) Joe Buck: The most onerous announcer in all sports got his start as the Cardinals announcer. Enough said. *82 Loathing Points*

4) Fame and Infamy: A little more than 10 years ago, the nation's eyes were riveted on St. Louis to see if Mark McGwire could out homer Roger Maris. A little more than 10 years later, thinking about the steroids and the scandal and the grossness involved in that episode makes us all recoil. On behalf of all those teams who did not juice. Revenge shall be ours. *21 Loathing Points*

Reasons we should just give the Cardinals a sunblock with a low SPF and watch them burn:

1) Jack Buck: The announcer responsible for: "and we'll see you here...tomorrow night!" perhaps the greatest announcement in Twins History was also the Cardinals announcer (and father of Joe Buck--but we'll forgive him for that. *-83 Loathing Points*

2) Frankie Frisch and Pepper Martin: Honorary members of the Old Peanuts From Heaven Gang--and besdies Pepper Martin used to put sneezing powder in hotel ventilation systems--what a scamp! *-28 Loathing Points*

3) Albert Pujols: Say what you will about the unibrow--the man is awfully talented and cleaner than the board of health. He's not Joe Mauer--but he is the St. Louis equivalent. *-17 Loathing Points*

4) Michael Jackson Died: So, maybe we should just sing, dance, and just not stop, not stop till you get enough. *-3 Loathing Points

Final Loathe-O-Meter Rating: 19 Loathing Points

Punishment: Sketchy leers from sketchy men with sketchy mustaches.

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)

The most ridiculous thing we have ever seen

So we were sitting in our hotel in Waukesha, blissfully at peace with bellies full of chinese food and the sweet sense of satisfaction that comes from having Nick Blackburn on the mound, with 2 outs in the 8th and nothing--NOTHING that can come between us and a well earned victory.

But there was something amiss. That something was Brian Anderson, Brewers announcer. Brian Anderson thinks he can see the future--and he can in a way, its just, he sees the exact opposite of the future.

5th inning--"Braden Looper's hurt"--Braden Looper was not hurt

6th inning--"Braden Looper's pitching real well"--We score two runs on three straight extra base hits

8th inning--"With the outfielders playing so deep, there's no way the Brewers will score here"--Then...then...god I can't even write about what happened...it just stunk.

Perhaps we needed to have lower expectations. Perhaps we should have worried and fretted until the final nail was in the Brewer's coffin. Or perhaps this man is Nostradamus, only, you know, not. 

We're going to drown our sorrows in a hot tub. Tomorrow--Noon--good things will happen.

Before we go...

Try to keep a light on during the night, at least until 10 PM so it looks like it's occupied.

Take out the trash tomorrow, and then don't worry about it again.

Feel free to read the newspaper, just be sure to put it in the recycling when you're done.

Oh, and if you hear what sounds like moaning and groaning coming from the basement--that's just the zombie we keep in the basement--Throw him a squirrel, he'll be fine.

ALSO! We have these two brief notes about our beloved Twins:

1) We won last night, which was great, but owing to my work at the steakhouse I couldn't see much. What I could see is the Cisco Kid struggling. And then I could see RA Dickey rocking the house. This seems to be the standard operating procedure for Liriano's starts. Which has all seemed coincidental until I realized his name is: fRAncisco...and don't get me started on the even more obvious last name, where the dotted I looks like a period between Dickey's initials.

All of this begs the question: Is RA Dickey hiding inside a Francisco Liriano suit? Or is this just the best potential Western Drama in the history of ever? Picture it, it could be either Cisco's Librarian, or Dickey & the Kid. Studio executives, I await your call.

2) Luis Ayala wants a trade, to which we here at Peanuts from Heaven say: "Meh." Sorry Luis, I mean, we'd be sad if you didn't give up a run every single time you pitch, or if you had any kind of personality that had invented a character. So...MEH.

We hit the 'road around noon, and we may even get to hear Hall of Famer/Mr. Belvedere Cast Memember Bob Ueker call the game tonight--see you soon!!

And don't forget the mail.