Dear Matt Capps,

Hi! Welcome to the Minnesota Twins and to our blog, where we offer loving encouragement of the Twins and snarky disparagement of their opponents.

We don't know much about you. We know your name. We know that you used to play in Washington DC (which, fyi: does not get a vote in congress, so congrats on getting a meaningful vote again). And we know that you came to us in exchange for everybody's favorite superfluous catcher: Wilson Ramos, so we hope you are as good as he is.

We also know that you helped us beat the Seattle Mariners last night, for this we are grateful. The Mariners always seem to work a woeful mojo on us, using tearful poetry and over priced coffee to make us as depressed as your average Seattle resident, and then sneaking across the plate with the winning run. You did not allow this to happen last night. Thank you.

We wish you best of luck with the rest of your season, and if you would like cookies feel free to ask....they may not be good but they will be...something.

Sincerely,

The Peanuts from Heaven

Intelligent acquisitions

First, let's all say "Woot-Woot!" for the sweep in KC. We avoided blogging on the beat downs here just because while we do a lot of things well (chicken-mushroom quesadillas for example) we don't do a great job of gloating. Also it's just mean, and we are not mean...we are from heaven.

But now let's focus on the bigger fish in need of some frying namely: the trade deadline which is now a mere two days away. While the Twins always seem to be hunting for someone or something to complement the team for a stretch run rarely do we actually pick up the big gun.

And this, actually is okay by me. Sure I'd love to have a Cy Young winner like Roy Oswalt or a significant talent like Dan Haren, but it seems more and more like the major league baseball trade deadline is like a block long string of garage sales. You walk down the road and see something that's strange and amusing and would actually look pretty cool on your bookshelf...like, say, a ceramic giraffe doing the splits!

I mean...look at that! it would totally tie Target Field together! We must have it!! Except...a whole bunch of other people at the garage sale are convinced that the ceramic giraffe is perfect for them too, and all at once everybody starts yelling offering obscene prices for that ceramic giraffe. Someone says: 10 bucks, you say 20, a third person goes to 30 bucks plus their girlfriend!

While this is happening a bunch of other people gather round and tell you that you have to buy this ceramic giraffe--it's an absolute neccesity they cry...once you have that all your problems will be solved! Unfortunately the giraffe seems to be sneering at you, like it doesn't really want to go home with you no matter how much you want it. Finally this hot shot from New York comes in and offers 50 bucks, their girlfriend and their first born child and that's that the ceramic giraffe is theirs.

So you're bummed, because, well...if you had 50 bucks or weren't so fond of your girlfriend then the ceramic giraffe would be yours. But you walk down the road and see a ceramic crocodile pot! It's hilarious! You must have it!!

...but so do the other three guys who missed on the ceramic giraffe...

Ultimately, the trade deadline is a massive crap shoot...the kind of thing where you're almost guaranteed to overpay for whatever you buy and will be unlikely to notice it for very long afterwards. Take last year for example: sure Orlando Cabrera did a great job for the months he was in town...how many of us can really remember his stats though?

A great deadline deal is as rare as a Rembrandt in a garage sale. So don't hope for too much...and keep an eye on the waiver wire after the deadline. It's like the transfer window in futbol...you conduct your business in private and pay just enough to satisfy the team and the player you want--done and done!

That's how we got Carl Pavano from the Indians...and Danny from Valencia CF. (He made a pretty bad soccer player carrying a glove into the field.)

Feeling Guilty

This is Zack Grienke--or actually it's Zack Grienke's head photoshopped onto the body of a Thundercat for my own amusement.

I did this photoshop because 1) it amused me, 2) the Thundercats are the coolest alien/animal/action hero cartoon characters ever, 3) Zack Grienke's about the only Royal who is talented enough to merit association with the Thundercats.

Unfortunately for the Kansas Citizens, Zack Grienke's awesomeness, so apparent and awe inspiring last year have been in woefully short supply this year as you might be able to tell from the fact that the Twins made Mr. Grienke and all his little powder blue buddies run home crying last night. We hope that Greinke's excellent pitching will return soon...preferably when he has to play against the White Sox...and the Tigers...and really anyone who's not us.

Now, we could spend the rest of this blog talking about how awesome Mauer is, or opining on Delmon Young's .427 batting average this month, or pointing out that Danny Valencia may secretly be Batman, but that would be gloating. And the last time we gloated after a victory bad things happened--bad things called "losses to the Cleveland Indians". So we will keep shtum for our own good.

But, in addition to covering our own butts, we want to be nice to those teams who are a little unhappy right now--and there are a lot of them in the AL Central. The Indians, deprived of their King; the Royals, deprived of their ace; the Tigers deprived of their hits by Matt Garza; the White Sox...okay we don't want to be nice to the White Sox...but to everybody else: "we are sorry things are hard right now. But they will get better, you will be happier and no matter what, we still like you. Now how about a hug? What? You don't want to hug this blog? Okay...I can respect that...[awkward silence, cough]"

Anyway! Well done Twins, now you play nice with those poor boys in Kansas City.

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)

Rhyme and Reason

First, great win last night. Cuddy, Delmon and Senor 'Stache...all we need. Well, that and my father giggling over his witticism "Wiggington WIGGED OUT!"

As frequent readers (all three of you) will know, we here at Peanuts From Heaven love baseball history including this little rhyme about my father's favorite team as a boy (the Milwaukee Braves) and their pitching woes

Spahn, Sain and Pray for Rain

It is in that spirit therefore that we introduce our very own, globalized Twins rhyme to reflect our own pitching woes.

Pavano, Liriano and hope for a hurricano

Repeat that as often as you like, it's a helpful little mantra.

A Brief Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a kingdom called the Land of Cleve. This kingdom was ruled by a King known as The Bron. The king had a loyal tribe led by Captain Cheeseburger and Sir Cliffly as well as a horde of Dogs known as the "Browns" even though they were mostly Orange.

Anyway, the Land of Cleve felt pretty good about itself and The Bron was kind hearted and merciful. But slowly, the land began to fall on hard times. First the dogs were found to be toothless, then the Captain was bitten by a Yankpire and Sir Cliffly became a wandering gypsy. Still The Bron was there and the people of the Land of Cleve loved him deeply.

Then one day, some other Kings called up The Bron and said: "hey you wanna come live in our kingdom instead", and The Bron said: "yes. Yes I do." So he gave up the throne of the Land of Cleve and left never to return.

The people of Cleve were heartbroken and furious and so they sent forth their tribe to pillage all the neighboring kingdoms, beginning with The Troit and moving on to the Territory known as Twinnesota.

Baffled as to why they were being attacked the Twinnesotans lost many times to the tribe of Cleve and then sent forth Sir Francisco to inquire: "Umm...why are you guys attacking us?"

Between sobs the armies of Cleve announced: "Shut up! You don't know our pain! YOU MUST DIE!"

"Ummm...is this about your King just running away from your kingdom"

"NO!" they shouted Sir Francisco stared with caring eyes and suddenly the Tribe of Cleve sniffled and then...began to bawl "YEEEEESSSSSS!!!! Why. Did. He. Leave. US?!?!?!? Are we not cool? We'll be cool! We'll all drive Hummers or Hybrids or Hippos or whatever is in right now....just please...tell our king to come home!!"

The tribe flung themselves in to Sir Francisco's arms and as he held them he explained, "listen closely child. Kings are despotic rulers...having just one will lead to heartbreak. Believe me, the Territory of Twinnesota used to have King Randy, and then King Kevin, and then King Johan, but they all left eventually...sure we could crown a King Joe or a King Justin...but that could lead to heart break too...so instead we're all equals...you should try it...equality is fun!"

"Can we be equals?" the Tribe sniffed.

"Sure we can...but first why don't you go back and destroy The Troit and the Kingdom of the Pale Hosers some more, that'll make you feel better."

The Tribe dried it's eyes and said " 'Kay." And thus all was made well.

Sorry for your pain Land of Cleve...it gets better...trust us.

A definition:

Comeuppance (n): 1) a richly deserved punishment; 2) getting your butt handed to you by the Cleveland Indians after you, and everyone you know wouldn't stop crowing about how awesome your last victory was.

That's all we'll say about that.