Welcome Back Joe Mauer

Now that Tsuyoshi Nishioka is back and bouncing over photographers for his own amusement (or so we assume), we can turn our attention to the even more exciting fact that Joseph Stanislas* Mauer is back in a Twins uniform. *Note, his real middle name is Patrick...but come on...he's old school enough it just feels like we should use an old-timey baseball legend's name as his middle name...so I'll try a few out during this blog.

When last we saw Joseph Tyrus Mauer, he was hobbled by "bilateral leg weakness" which is to say...both of his legs felt weak. That turned into an infection which pointed out a sore shoulder and heel which led to many many weeks of rehab and many many vitriolic posts by Twins fans complaining about the millions of dollars invested in the next eight years of Joseph Honus Mauer's career.

Apparently, some Twins fans love the hometown kid turned big league hero when he's playing the game rather than trying to prepare his body to play the game. Others believe he's "soft" or "weak" because, after all, if you can sit in a cubicle and leave chat room posts in between filling out TPS reports you're definitely know how difficult it is to catch 9 innings of baseball 130 times per year while maintaining a .300 batting average and leading your team to the playoffs. But most people were probably just frustrated that the team was doing so poorly and vented their frustration on Joseph Denton Mauer because he wasn't there and he could probably use $100 bills as kleenexes. (We assume he's frugal enough to just use $20s...he is midwestern after all)

At yesterday's press conference Mauer admitted that he too was frustrated, and even claimed that "nobody's been more frustrated than me". Wouldn't you be frustrated too if you missed out on all the fun the team's been having lately? Ben Revere's wild energy? Michael Cuddyer's nightly one-man magic/performance art shows? Carl Pavano & Scott Baker's ugly facial hair contests? Delmon Young's book club (seriously he cited the "remora" as the new piranha... Delmon's an inspiration to nerds everywhere)? Miss out on all that and the recent team resurgence and I'm sure you'd be frustrated too.

But now that Joseph Matthewson Mauer has rejoined the Twins there should be happier days ahead. Still we should all take a deep breath and remember: no matter how Mauer performs in an individual game, no matter how many aches and pains he suffers, there will be moments of frustration: for him, for Gardy, for us as fans. He won't always play like a legend in the making, and while I understand that some people might want to proclaim that observation and their frustration about it throughout the blogoverse or on top of a mountain or in a factory full of megaphones.

I don't.

I say this not to belittle those who do want to proclaim their feelings about Mauer or to denounce them as poopy-heads, but simply because in a life time of watching baseball sometimes you get lucky enough to watch a truly special player ply their craft in front of your very eyes. As Twins fans: right here, right now, Joeseph Mauer is that player.

I just want to appreciate that, however long it lasts.

Get Well Soon or 早くよくなってくれ。

I could spend this blog whining about another narrow defeat at the hands of the evil Yankpire army, I could vent my spleen and denounce the entire east coast for ruining the start of our season or I could wag a finger of blame at pitchers, hitters and coaches for the scuffles in Toronto and New York.

But I don't really want to. I'm not a baseball fan because I want to criticize others or because I want my team win every game. I'm a baseball fan because I like the connection to something bigger than myself, I like the feeling of community that develops out of cheering the same group of guys from February through October, until you feel like neighbors, friends or family. And even though he's only been on the team for two short months, and he has only played 6 real major league games, I want the best for Tsuyoshi Nishioka, our new second baseman.

So when Tsuyoshi broke his fibula today in Yankee Stadium, I wilted a little bit. I know that it was a fair slide, I know that it's nobody's fault; but I couldn't help but think: "that poor guy came all the way to the US to pursue his dream job, and after 1 week he has to stop. That's not fair!" I've worked overseas, far away from family and friends. It can be fun and exciting but it's also absolutely terrifying. If you fall ill or get hurt and you suddenly can't do the one thing you know how to do in a strange land, AND you don't have the people you love by your side to help you heal--well that just flat out stinks.

I know that he'll get better, and that his wife and parents can come out to help him, and that another player (Luke Hughes) will come up to help the team, but Nishioka's a Twin, he's one of our own now, and I know that--in our little Twins Territory family--we all want to help our guys feel better. Not just because he's a talented athlete, but because in a baseball crazed community you work together, you win together, you lose together. After the injury was announced Denard sympathized with his new teammate, Nishi and GM Bill Smith apologized to one another, and the twitterverse/blogosphere erupted in frowny faces at the injury. Because, that's the Twins way--health & happiness first, victory...maybe later.

Some people might analyze what a new second baseman means to the line up and defense, some might harangue the pin-stripers for playing dirty, but I keep thinking: "would he like some cookies...a bowl of chicken noodle soup...or Miso...a bento box...some kind of comfort food?" I empathize with Tsuyoshi and just want to use this post to say: "Hayaku yoku natte kure".

Get well soon and let us know about the cookies. Love,

The Peanuts

Shakin' it up

Go San Francisco woooooooooooooo.
And now that that's out of the way... OK just kidding, I love San Fran. I lived there for almost a year and I'm sure all my bay-area friends are freaking out with happiness, but secretly I was kind of rooting for the Rangers. I think being a Twins Fan has made me unable to not root for the underdog in any given situation (as evidenced by the fact that my honorary NL team is the Pirates... seriously).

Since it is now officially the offseason, I thought I should address the fact that there will probably be a LOT of changes on the Twins roster this offseason. What will our team look like next spring? And, more importantly, who will populate the cast of characters we both love and mock? Here's a glimpse of who could go (and some unsolicited opionions):
Jim Thome (aka The Smoke Monster): He is the only LOST reference on this blog. Plus he's just awesome, and he's a nice guy. I can totally picture him grilling burgers with my dad. Verdict - KEEP.
Carl Pavano (dirty-stache): On the one hand, his moustache looks like a dead rodent. On the other hand, he was nominated for an award because of said moustache, and also he's pretty good at baseball. Verdict - KEEP.
Jesse Crain (Ze Ubermensch): While I do love to make Nietzsche jokes every once in a while, and while Jesse Crain is an extremely nice dude, he also gives me a heart attack every time he walks to the mound. Verdict - Meh.
Matt Gurrier: I don't think he has a character on the blog actually (Scruffy please correct me if I'm wrong). But we do need someone in the bullpen, and he's not bad. Verdict - Meh.
John Rauch: He has a freaky neck tattoo, and if I never again see his bad-ass video on the big screen at Target Field, I might cry. Verdict - KEEP (hey, I never said my opinions were based on facts or rationale).

Kubel - sort of surprising, sort of unexpected. He didn't have a great year and although I love the dude, and he looks a lot like my friend John, both Scruffy and I were leaning towards "trade him."

Punto - sad, but not necessarily surprising or unexpected. Nick Punto is awesome... I have always been a fan, never a hater. I know he was on the DL twice this year, but if the organization is gong to keep someone around for that long, they can't do it out of friendship and good feelings forever...eventually they need to reinvest that money in someone who will produce. I get that. But I'm still hopeful he won't go.

What are your thoughts? We want to know!! Especially if your thoughts involve unicorns, cake, or other characters from LOST.

(and yes, I am in class right now. boom.)

What pitcher's that again?

Glen Perkins was so awesome at the beginning of the season that our misfortunes were dimmed by his brilliance. Of late, Glen has been not so great, which explains why Glen had to go to the disabled list, but who, oh who would take his place.

Manager Ron Gardenhire explained to us in a Peanuts from Heaven exclusive:

Gardy: We've got a young pitcher whose going to start on Saturday.

PFH: Oh, yeah Gardy? Which pitcher is that?

Anthony Swarzak: SWARZAK!

Gardy: He's a young gun from Rochester with a hellacious sinker.

PFH: Who?

Swarzak: SWARZAK!

Gardy: He's coming up to cover Perk, who seems to be a little hurt.

PFH: But wouldn't that be bad for Perkinses career and salary?

Gardy: Naw, if you get hurt and miss work, just call this kid and it won't hurt to miss work.

PFH: Which kid?

Swarzak: SWARZAK!

Gardy: And he doesn't give up runs, which is just as good as scoring them.

PFH: How very zen Gardy...

Swarzak: SWARZAK!!

Anthony Swarzak: ask about him at the Metrodome.

FINALLY

I agree - awesome baseball is integral to our happiness here at Peanuts from Heaven. This is why during the winter I tend to fashion a nest from laundry, blankets and assorted holiday socks in which to hibernate like a bear until the season opener.

In all seriousness though.

WE WANT AWESOME BASEBALL.

The Rays: the scrappy underdog who rose to the top despite being severely underpaid and mocked by the Red Sox (who are now the new Yankees...and the Rays are the new Red Sox? Maybe? Red is the new pinstripes?)

The Phillies: Favorite team of Corey on Boy Meets World which is pretty much enough of a selling point for me.

I too remain undecided. I only hope to watch some great games.

Unfortunately, that might be difficult. Again, my actual relationship with another human being is invervening on my relationship with our great American pastime. Matt and I are going to a wedding in the Pocanos in Pennsylvania this Thursday thru Sunday...I'm sure the Pocanos are gorgeous. I'm also pretty sure I will not be able to watch the World Series.

So, Rays/Phillies, this is my request: five games. At least five games. If either of you are ahead 3-1 going into Sunday's game...just...screw something up. Give up 12 runs and handcuff your starting lineup to a herd of wild horses and send them scattering off into the desert. Something. Just please, play more than four games. This is all i ask.

Thanks,

The management.

aka, Peanuts from Heaven...or heavenly peanuts...

What the dilly yo?

Why can we not catch a break? Why has lady luck decided to spurn our affections so suddenly and randomly? Why can we not win north of the border, or in the state of Ohio, or in a dome not named after the most alliterative vice president in American history? Why do our heretofore indomitable pitchers suddenly lack the ability to get a friggin out? Why do the Rays let a piece of metal on their roof determine the course of the game? In short: what's the dilly yo?

My parents have a philosophy. It is simply this. The Fox network is evil. We have been on national television 3 times. Once we won after losing a lead. Then we lost to the Tigers for no reason whatsoever. And now we cannot catch a break against the Twinkling Shafts of Light. Why? Fox hates us. Fox likes to show pretty rich people at venerable stadia. LA, New York, Boston, Chicago. These will work. The Metrodome. Not so much. It's bad enough they will be saddled with Tampa Bay, but they will not stand for our presence in the postseason.

So Rupert Murdoch hired a gypsy, a voodoo priest, and Miss Cleo, to put a curse upon us. Then used his minions (idiot announcers) to neutralize our brilliant team of Dick and Bert. Thereby removing our mojo and turning our luck as sour as a bachelor's rancid milk.

There is but one explanation for our struggles.

FOX IS EVIL.

End of discussion.

Across Enemy Lines

Hi friends,

Unfortunately, having a significant other who lives in another state does interfere occasionally with my ability to report on Twins games - I'm afraid this weekend is going to be one of those times. It's really too bad because after last night this promises to be an interesting series, full of hijinks and SupractionTM and photoshopping opportunities galore.However, I may have the opportunity to do some real live reporting from the new National's stadium! Excitement ensues.

Disclaimer: Wth the exception of this guy, I don't really give a crap about the Washington National's. They are like celery - bland and uninteresting, but with a distinct enough flavor to make me wrinkle my nose and go "huh". You can tell they're there, you just don't care that much. (Sorry Matt.....)

So I think most of my reporting will center on the ways in which the Nat's are clearly inferior to the Minnesota Twins...which um, shouldn't be that hard to do. And maybe, just for old time's sake, I'll yell "GUUUUUUUUUUUZZZZ!" Because that's fun.

How I Acquired my Horns

(no... get your mind out of the gutter)

It just so happens that my Smelly Partner in Blogging/Crime/other various activities works as a bartender at a rather classy downtown establishment. I innocently suggested to him that if he ever happened to serve drinks to Justin Morneau, he should take advantage of the situation to slip him a roofie and leave him unconscious on my front doorstep.
(Obviously this would have to occur during the offseason, since I would never put my own well-being before that of the coolest baseball team ever to walk the planet.

And on a completely unrelated note, the first pitch of the game last night ended up in the left field seats. If it had been hit by the Twins I'd have been doing a small victory dance around the couch...but it wasn't, which is both a good and a bad thing: 1) it put us at a deficit before anyone had even cracked their first peanut.... however 2) nobody had to see me dance.

Unfortunately we never made it up. We got a run off their closer (yay?) but it wasn't enough. And poor Opie Everett hurt his hand while resting innocently in the dugout. Hopefully tonight will be better.

Great...yet not.

Dry lung...deadened lymphnodes...derelict larynxes...I'm trying to think what DL has KOed Dick and Bert.

The Twins are playing on FOX, the big FOX, spraying out to the entire nation (or the entire nation that doesn't care about the Angels), and again, two people I've come to trust and rely on are Missing in Action.

The new guys, Dick Stockton and Mark Grace, don't know what to do with themselves. Punto dropped down your average "Let's-move-Denard-to-third" bunt and Stockton nearly shat himself. Here's the transcript.

Dick Stockton: "And Punto doesn't swing the bat all the way but still makes contact!"

Mark Grace: "That's crazy!"

DS: "The ball is fair! It's not a home run! But its in play!"

MG: "Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!! WHAT DO WE DO?!?"

DS: "Now Punto's running to first base as though he thinks he can get a hit."

MG: "I--I--I can't believe it!"

DS: "There is no first baseman there! And Punto's on base!!"

MG: "Wow!"

DS: "Do you know what just happened?"

MG: "Well, in the National League, pitchers used to do that, but we assumed it was because they were little girls who were too weak to do steroids in order to hit home runs."

DS: "Really?"

MG: "Yeah, they called it a bunt, or a boont, or something."

DS: "Wow!"

MG: "Yup! These Twins are just crazy enough to try something only done in the 19th century"

DS: "My god! [Sigh] I need a smoke."

(At least Grace said the "out" call on Delmon was BS, so, I'll give him more credit on that. But Stockton called Nicky P. "PUNT-o" ) So spent were Stockton and Grace that they could barely contain themselves as the Twins strung together hits...yes...hits, singles and doubles and whatnot.

I only realize now how spoiled I am by Dick and Bert, they can explain the game, what it takes for Joe to take the ball the other way, what sign was missed by which Mariner on the bunt, how Mauer is calling the game and Baker's splitter is doing its job and Ryan Rowland-Smith is

 pitching the way Seth Rogen writes: high all the time. And they'd also manage to talk about Bert's minimal intelligence and Dick's fear of the unknown. 

Stockton and Grace, meanwhile, accurately state the very obvious things each player does shortly after they do it.

Put another way, Stockton and Grace are narrators, Dick and Bert are characters unto themselves.

So while Senors Bremer and Blyleven tend to their Diseased Leprechaun we will simply enjoy the large Twins lead and curse the DL again.

...

Or, now that the Twins have lost their once comfortable lead, curse Stockton and Grace, tell Dick and Bert to let the Leprechaun die with dignity and help our Bullpen find their groove again.

Down a man...

One of the hardest things about being a baseball fan is when one of your regular players goes on to the Disabled List.

It's not like football where each team has two or three back ups, or basketball where many positions are flexible (Point Guard Magic Johnson subbed at Center for a time). You get used to a person every day, doing their specialized thing, playing 2nd, or pitching the 8th inning, or hitting the dickens out of right handed pitching.

So it's kind of hard to not have Alexi Cassila around, or Michael Cuddyer, or Pat Neshak. But at the same time it's nice that you get other people who can become favorites. And while there will never be anyone with the cool facial hair of Alexi, Punto plays 2nd pretty well anyway. And while there will never be anyone as quirkily cool as Mr. Magic Michael Cuddyer, Save Big Money with Denard Span...is pretty cool in his own way. And while Sideshow Pat's wierd wind up is MIA in the 8th, it's been...oh, wait...not having Neshak has sucked this year.

Neshak's on the DL, and sadly, Peanuts from Heaven is similarly without a critical member of the team. But while Stinky enjoys the Rimrock of Montana on the Down Low, I'll do my best to hold down the fort, and be more like Span than the Bo Peepish Bull Pen.

On that note...Raul Ibanez, please stop hitting the ball so dang hard.