Dustpans for Garza
Being on the winning end of a sweep is a glorious thing, made even more so by the preceding weeks of The Minnesota Twins Present: A Keystone Cops Revival.
It sure didn't look like Young Master Garza was going to get his first (ever) win at the Dome last night when the first batter of the game tagged pitch #5 waaaaaay into the right field seats. But he pulled himself together and pitched 6 1/3 innings without giving up any more earned runs (there was an unearned run in the seventh). He also got four whole runs of support from his teammates, the most he's gotten all season long. TBL is belatedly realizing that the Curse of Radke has not landed solely on poor Johan...
Also, Morneau got hits in this series. Yes--multiple hits! Okay...two. But still, the hitting!
And last but not least, and also serendipitously on National Talk Like A Pirate Day, TBL finally got to meet up Jen of Lipgloss & Baseball for a game and a long chat. Turns out, we were separated at birth. (Something you've been meaning to tell me, FPC?) Be very afraid, Minnesota--there are two of us. Muahahahahaha.
And now, Twins haikus:
Firmly entrenched in
Third place, watching the hated
White Sox rot in fifth
I don't really mind
No October ball; just send
The Yankees home too
Next up: Friday night, Johan "Will This Season Never End?" Santana vs. Mark "Twin Killer" Buehrle and the despicable Chicago Whine Sox. TBL's laying in the good whiskey for this one.
3 rejoinders:
Between the nose rings, similar taste in music and television, love of baseball, love of hating the Bitch Sox and Stankees and witty commentary we were separated at birth! Hanging out with you was the cherry on the Rangers Sweep Sundae.
The tension will be palpable whilst watching the game tomorrow night. I may need to seek solace in my own six pack of Woodpecker Cider (not Woodchuck, remember Woodchuck/Up-chuck.)
-Jen
Two other possible nicknames for Mr. Buehrle: "Hurley" or "The Mouth."
Hee. "The Mouth". Buehrle is, of course, at least 1/3 of the reason TBL calls them the Whine Sox.
Go On, Spit It Out