Digging Through My Kitchen Drawer

Friday: Twins 10 - Tigers 2 (Yay!)
Saturday: Twins 4 - Tigers 6
Sunday: Twins 5 - Tigers 7
Tigers win series 2 of 3

Ok, I'm not quite ready to stick a fork in the Twins, but I am looking for the fork.



I know that they're not out of the running mathmatically, but it sure doesn't seem like they're playing like champions. We really needed to sweep the Tigers, and there's no reason that we couldn't do that at home, but that didn't happen. Add that to the fact that the Angels let the White Sox have two games, and the slipping has begun.

I know, I know, there are still a lot games left, and anything can happen. But I just don't like the trend I'm seeing lately, especially with the bullpen. This recent habit of coughing up leads must end now if we're to have any hope at all.

Where have you gone, Pat Neshek,
Our territory turns it's lonely eyes to you.
What's that you say, Mr. Anderson?
Sidearm Pat has left and gone away,Hey hey hey.
[apologies to Simon & Garfunkel]

Boy, do we miss Pat-Pat or what? Twins fans aren't used to watching the wheels fall off the bullpen game after game. And I think I can speak for all of Twins Territory when I say that we don't like it. We want the good old days when we could actually rely on the bullpen, when we knew that a lead in the seventh was as good as a win, and when being behind by a couple in the seventh wasn't a problem.

So, guys, for tomorrow's off-day, I want you to sleep in, relax, go fishing or golfing or whatever you like, watch the Vikings game (but don't take it too seriously), then come back with renewed champion attitudes that I know you have, and knock off a bunch of wins in a row. I can't find my fork in that messy drawer; I don't want to need it.

Alright. No More Ms. Nice-Gal

Saturday: Twins 2 – Yuck Sox 11
Sunday: Twins 2 – Puke Sox 12

Somebody. Please. Stop. The. Bleeding.

You guys...you lollygag the ball around the infield. You lollygag your way down to first. You lollygag in and out of the dugout. You know what that makes you? Lollygaggers! ~Skip. Bull Durham.

This is getting really bad. Really ugly, awfully, disgustingly bad. It’s been well documented that the White Sox have been playing very well since Ozzie Guillen’s profanity-laced hissy fit (by the way ESPN, you can stop talking about it now – we’ve heard it enough). Obviously, it’s time for Gardy to start yelling. LOUD! In case he needs help with what he should say, I offer some suggestions (edited to comply with a PG-13 rating). If nothing else, it gets some stuff off my chest.

To the starting pitchers: Can someone PLEASE stay in the game for longer than, I don’t know, 4 1/3 innings for crissakes? We beg you to go deep into the game. You know the relievers are tired and sore. And yet you insist on serving cookies and getting hit around. I swear, I’m gonna put in Monroe or Macri to pitch. It can’t get any more embarrassing - unless you start pitching without pants. And another thing, why the [bleep] are to pitching to Crede? Apparently the ball looks like a volleyball to him. Pitch around the [bleep]er.

To the batters: Either you swing and miss like [bleep]ing lunatics or you ground out to third. Where’s the power? Where’s the situational hitting? In fact, where’s any kind of hitting at all? You’re batting like you’re blindfolded up there. And you’re leaving men on base all over the place. Are your bats made out of Swiss cheese? Quit being afraid of the ball.

To the defense: Could you start actually reading the ball off the bats? You break in when you should be running out. You dive like [bleep]ing ballerinas. You’re out there running around like you’re herding cats. That is if you’re running after it at all. Start getting some outs, will’ya for crissakes?

To Bill Smith: Remind me again why losing Juan Rincon off waivers is a bad thing.

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Aaaah. I feel better now. Do you? Why don’t you give it a try?

Stuff to Do and Some Complaining to Do

Here's a couple of things to do in the next few days...

Tonight: Cue-up your Pink Floyd, put on your long-johns (and parkas, and ski caps, and choppers), and watch the total eclipse of the moon (visible in Minnesota).

Friday: FSN North Twins Classics will re-play Scott Baker's near perfect game from August 31, 2007 (hats-off to Becca for the heads-up).

Picking Bones

I'm mad at Sports Illustrated. I am subscribed to their automatic e-mail alert service, so whenever there is news about the Minnesota Twins, I get an email. The Twins are the only filter I have activated, so I should only get Twins news. But I want to scream at this service, "Just because someone is a former Twin, doesn't make everything he does Twins News!!!" It seems I get an email every time Johan picks up a ball or scratches his ass. I don't care! He's a Met now; this is Mets News. If he does something really special, fine, tell me. But otherwise, leave me alone. How am I supposed to get over him if I'm reminded of him 75 times a day? And where were these emails when he was a Twin? Seems the East-coast sports bias is alive and well.

And to top things off, I'll be finding this in my mailbox today:



**Sigh**

Well, thank you for allowing me to vent.