See Ya, Sidney

TBL is guest-blogging (as "Infield") over on BatGirl today.

Post reproduced below for archiving purposes:

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The Infield Report: Bonfire of the Inanities

Late Saturday night, Sir Sidney Ponson sat in front of his locker in the Twins clubhouse. The rest of the team was gone, except Torii Hunter, who was touching up the surgically precise edges of his goatee across the room.

Sidney pulled an undershirt off of a hanger, gazed at it for a moment, sighed deeply, and dropped it into the box at his feet. He took a glove off of a hook on the side, gazed at it for a moment, sighed deeply, and dropped it into the box at his feet. He picked a pair of shoes off the floor, gazed at them for a moment, sighed deeply, and dropped them into the box at his feet.

All this sighing was starting to get on Torii's nerves. It made it hard to concentrate, and a man needs to concentrate when he's got a diamond-edge razor in his hands. He set it down.

"Hey, Siddy, what's up? Why the long face?" he called, towelling shaving cream off of his legendary cheeks.

"I got designated for assignment," Ponson gloomed, heaving another deep sigh.

"Aw, man, that sucks. What were you supposed to do--it's obvious you're cursed. And getting uncursed, it ain't easy. I should know."

"Do you think it was my glove, Torii?"

"Might've been."

"Or maybe my cap?"

"Could be."

"Cleats?"

"Hard to say, Siddy," Torii opined. "If I could tell something was cursed just by looking at it, 2005 would've been real different."

"Hoo yeah. For me, too. And 2004. And 2006. This season, obviously. And--"

"You know," Torii interrupted hastily, because he had a feeling that list was going to go on for a while. "You gotta get this curse under control if you want to catch on with another team."

"I know, I know, but what can I do?" Sid wailed.

Torii pointed at the box, and at the locker. "Burn it. Burn it all."

"Even my lucky glove?!?"

Torii gave him The Look. "Just how lucky you think that glove is, Siddy? I gotta say, the empirical evidence just isn't there."

"You're right, Torii. You're right." He sighed a sigh so massive that locker doors fluttered in the breeze. "It all has to go. It's my only chance. Do you think they'll let me start a fire in the parking lot?"

"You, no. Me, definitely. You finish cleaning out that locker, and I'll meet you out back in half an hour, ok?"

"Okay. And thanks, Torii. You're a swell guy."

"Aw, shucks," Torii blushed. "I know that."

Half an hour later Ponson hauled his box out to the back lot to find a crackling bonfire and Torii rummaging through a grocery bag on a folding table.

"I ran to the store for some snacks," Torii said with a grin. "Curse-breaking is hungry work. We'll eat after."

"Excellent!" Sid exclaimed, instantly feeling much better about the whole enterprise.

"Well, go on," Torii urged. "Toss that stuff on there. A quick break is easiest."

And Sidney threw his cursed posessions one by one onto the inferno. As each thing caught fire, he felt a little lighter in his heart, which had been heavy indeed. Torii tossed in the new hat he'd been wearing the last couple of games, because he was starting to have a bad feeling about it.

"Sometimes we just need to let go of things. Like old undershirts, and sucking," Sidney said philosophically.

"Word," Torii agreed. "C'mon, man, let's roast us some grain dogs while the fire's high."

Ponson started to nod, then froze. "Grain dogs?"

"They're good. And low-fat. I got the Mexican Chipotle kind. Spicy!" He skewered a couple of zesty dogs and handed one to Sidney. They toasted them over the burning wreckage of Ponson's days with Minnesota and ate them on soft buns with mustard and sauerkraut. And by the time the flames guttered out and they had swept the ashes away, Ponson had learned that fire purifies and that tasty food doesn't have to go straight to your massive belly.

At the end of the night he walked Torii to his car. "Say, Torii? I was wondering something."

"Yeah?"

"How'd you get all that wood on short notice? I hope you didn't do anything silly like spend a ton of money on a rush delivery just to make me feel better."

"What, that stuff?" Torii said, climbing the ladder into the driver's seat of his massive vehicle. "Shoot, that was just a pile of assbats that were laying around the clubhouse. You take care of yourself now, Siddy."

"You, too, Torii. And thanks!"

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Sweep + Sleep Deprivation

Today, TBL has (under the nom de plume "infield") gotten rather silly over on BatGirl.

Post reproduced below, for archiving purposes:

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Ode on an Assbat
(with deep and sincere apologies to John Keats)

Thou still undent'd length of maple wood,
Thou foster-child of Sucking and slow Curves,
Pine-tar'd historian, who canst thus express
A hitless tale more surely than our rhyme:
What soul-sucking legend haunts about thy shape
Of left-handers or righties, or of both,
In KC or the paths of Jacobs Field?
What men or gods are these? What bunters loth?
What mad putouts? What struggle to reach base?
What fouls and ground-outs? What wild swinging strikes?

All baseball games are sweet, but those we win
Are sweeter; therefore, ye young Twins, play on;
Not with the assbattery, but, more endear'd,
Swing at the pitch that falls within the zone:
Fair youth, beneath the lights, thou canst not leave
Home plate, unless thou can those fastballs smack;
Bold batter, never, never canst thou hit,
Swinging now this assbat--yet, do not grieve;
But proclaim, fie!, upon that curs'd wood,
After this wilt thou swing, and it fall fair!

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Temporary Relocation

TBL, under the nom de plume "infield", is guest-blogging on BatGirl today.

Post reproduced for archiving purposes:

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Scattered Notes on a Chilly Series

Twins at Chicago
4/7: Twins 0, Whine Sox 3
4/8: Twins 3, Whine Sox 1

Infield has been brought in to pinch-blog for Batgirl, as BG is entirely occupied trying to prevent Baby Dash from running up a monumental long distance bill while romancing Riley Grace Nathan.

It was a long, cold weekend in Chicago. The game was canceled Friday, on account of the glacier encroaching on right field, but intrepid ground crews imported from Canada attacked with blowtorches and boiling water and managed to drive it back into the stands in time for Saturday's afternoon start.

Some comments on the abbreviated series...

• Mark your calendars for July 6th, on which date the Twins and Sox will play a doubleheader to make up for Friday's missed game.
• Sir Sidney, who was scheduled to pitch on Friday, will instead be making his first appearance in a Twins uniform on Monday in Minnesota, versus the Bankees.
• Silva started a game, and neither the world nor the season came to an unfortunate end. (Yes, infield was a little surprised, too.) In fact, he gave up only one run in 5 innings of work, despite getting into a couple of jams.
• Rondell White apparently pulled a calf muscle during pre-game workouts while skipping onto the field. Sometimes truth is funnier than BatGirl.
• Sunday, after a frantic locker room search between the second and third innings, Santana found his control in his locker, underneath his spare glove.
  "Whew," Johan was overheard to say, "I was starting to think I'd left it in the Dome. God only knows what the Gophers football team would have done with it."
• Is infield the only one who found the GameDay picture of Sox reliever David Aardsma a wee bit disturbing? Something about that psychotic-clown grin...
  
  
  
  
• And finally, some sassy stats:
  • The Twins are on pace to go 130-32 on the season.
  • Justin Morneau is on pace to hit 65 homers.
  • Johan Santana is on pace to accumulate 240 strikeouts and (less sassily) 80 walks.
  • Jason Tyner is on pace to steal 65 bases--33 of them on his knees.

Our boys are on their way home to face the Bankees and the Rays for three and four games, respectively. Rumor has it that on Sunday, the 60th anniversary of Jackie Robinson's major league debut, Torii Hunter will not only be wearing the number 42 (by special permission of the commissioner), but he will be also be wearing his socks the right way. Bring your cameras!

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Infield's Dubious Adventure

Still sharing guest-posting duties, with RD while BatGirl is out of town. RD got Justin's 30th. I got the Twins being stymied by the Jays. Sometimes life just ain't fair.

(TBL posts on BatGirl as "Infield". Just so you know.)

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Twins 0, Jays 5. Darnit.

By the time Infield slipped out of work today (a little early, truth be told) she was tired and cranky on account of not getting much sleep last night after having some tattoo touchups that evening (word to the wise: save it for the weekend. What was Infield thinking?), and she was all hopped up on Advil Cold & Sinus 'cause something is going around the cubicle farm and it's got her in its crosshairs.

Infield got home promptly at 5:00, dashed inside, donned her "Nathan Saves" shirt, grabbed her trusty scorebook and was back outside in plenty of time to catch the 5:15 northbound, which should get her to the Dome in plenty of time to get some Joe Mauer sideburns which would not be worn (oh, no!) but instead sent to BG, because Joe is BG's boyfriend, not hers.

Infield has chosen not to own a car because of the global warming and the price of oil and the fact that she learned to drive in south Texas and they don't have snow there, plus she has all the depth perception of a drunken moose. Also, ever tried to park in Uptown? Not good. Usually busing works out nicely, especially with the traffic anywhere near downtown being completely psycho early of an evening, but today? The Metro Transit let Infield down.

The 5:15 deigned to appear at 5:35, and proceeded to meander from Uptown to Downtown in twenty-five freakin' minutes. This is a ten-minute trip, people! And what with the walk to the Dome from Hennepin, Infield got there well over an hour after she left home, and there were no more sideburns, leaving Infield to hope that someone else had the same idea and was not riding the Bus of the Damned.

In a case of small-world-meets-big-BatCommunity, Infield's season seats are located directly behind Wonder Woman's season seats, and it turned out that WW had had the same idea about getting some of those sideburns to BG, but had gotten there even later than Infield.

Then the game started, and Silva looked good and it seemed that perhaps the worst of Infield's day was behind her. But then four innings passed without anyone scoring, and Infield started to get a little nervous because she knows Carlos likes some run support, and can get kind of antsy without it. And sure 'nuff, in the 5th Carlos loses the no-hitter to Lyle Overbay and the shutout to Bengie Molina, who solved the Torii Hunter problem by sending his homer both over Torii's head and off to one side.

But he stopped the bleeding after that, and Infield thinks pretty much every Twins fan there figured, "Eh, two runs. This is a good-hitting Twins team. Two runs is nothing to fret about." And perhaps the Blue Jays thought the same, because in the seventh they went for the insurance. Loading the bases with one out, they then scored when Carlos and Joe got their signs crossed up a little. Carlos seemed just a tad upset when Joe, who was set up low and in, couldn't get his glove on that wild pitch up and away. Oops?

Carlos seemed even more upset two runs later, when Gardy gave him the hook. The Jackal stalked back to the dugout, filled a paper cup from the Gatorade bucket, and threw that cup against the wall in the mildest-mannered bout of pitcher rage Infield has ever witnessed. But that's Carlos for ya.

Pat Neshek came on then, did his little sidearmer bouncy dance and struck out Frank Catalon-howtheheckdoyouspellthat. And Frank took a couple of steps toward the dugout and then looked back over his shoulder at Neshek with this expression like "Is this guy for real?", and Infield and Wonder Woman got a nice (and only slightly hysterical) giggle out of that.

Neshek got out of the inning with a second strikeout, and the Twins did, um, nothing in the next half-inning. Then Jesse Crain started warming up and Infield asked Wonder Woman if maybe Luis Rodriguez could pitch instead? And WW pointed out that was maybe a touch harsh, and in all fairness Infield had to agree, but with Lohse and Romero both gone someone in that bullpen has to make Infield all twitchy, and Crain is the lucky winner these days 'cause she has a huge, squishy soft spot for Willie Eyre, who wears his socks the right way and was very charming to her at the last TwinsFest.

But Crain did fine, and then Guerrier did fine, and in between the Twins did nothing again, and finally one more round of nothing in the bottom of the ninth and there's yer ballgame.

So Infield closed her trusty scorebook, turned to Wonder Woman and said, "Well, crap. Now I have to go home and write something funny about this game."

And WW winced a little and said, "Ooh, there wasn't really anything funny about this one."

Preaching to the choir, Wonder Woman. Preaching to the choir.

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Twins Win!

Yes, that's right, our boys finally won a game at Comerica Park. My profound reflections on the game have been posted on BatGirl.

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I had some fun with an inning-by-inning commentary the last time I subbed for BG, so I'm dusting off the idea again tonight as the Twins tried for their first win of the year in Detroit.

1st inning
Nothing but ground ball outs. Huh. Weird.

(MIN 0, DET 0)

2nd inning
Since when does Dimitri Young hit triples??? Detroit takes an early lead. Surprise, surprise, surprise...

(MIN 0, DET 2)

3rd inning
Little Nicky Punto, tiny superhero, puts the Twins on the board with a one-out double, and Chairman Mauer sacrifices himself for the good of the people to plate the tying run.

(MIN 2, DET 2)

4th inning
Leadoff hits are good. Leaving runners stranded on third is bad. Especially when you're playing the Tigers, who see something like that and then decide to taunt you by loading the bases with no outs. And if you're Jason Bartlett and you're not wearing your socks the right way tonight, which explains a lot, you stand out there in the field and you watch Radke's bum shoulder start to smoke and you really, REALLY wish you'd hiked up your pants and knocked that runner in, because maybe that would have taken a little wind out of their sails before they came up to bat.

And then Craig Monroe smokes one to left, but there's Jason Tyner snatching it out of thin air and going all Liriano on their asses, grooving a beauty of a fastball from the outfield straight down the center of the plate to Mauer for the out and the funky double play. And lo and behold, Radke teases Sean Casey into a popup and somehow they don't score.

(MIN 2, DET 2)

5th inning
You know what's as good as a leadoff hit? A one-out double and an error. And you know what's even better? A Chairman Mauer RBI double after that.

Now, here's an interesting question. If you're a pitcher, and you and your catcher get your signs crossed up and he's sitting low and in and you pitch up and away to Doctor Morneau and (oops!) tag the umpire in the arm, do you pretty much figure your strike zone will be the size of a pea for the rest of the game?

(MIN 3, DET 2)

6th inning
The home plate umpire is cursed. How else do you explain getting hit twice in as many innings?

(MIN 3, DET 2)

7th inning
Radke goes seven. This is exactly what the bullpen needed. And look, we have a lead! A lead nowhere near big enough to make me feel at all comfortable, but hey.

(MIN 3, DET 2)

8th inning
The home plate umpire is most decidedly cursed. Who's ever seen an ump get hit thrice in a game before? I certainly haven't.

(MIN 3, DET 2)

9th inning
Hey! No throwing at Bartlett's head! That's my #2 boyfriend right there!

Loading the bases in the top of the ninth with a one-run lead is good. Driving insurance runs in with a groundout is even better! Watching them walk Doctor Morneau to reload the bases is simultaneously disappointing and kind of funny. Watching Sweetcheeks ground out to the pitcher, however, was not funny at all.

As the bottom of the inning opens, Dick Bremer starts talking about all of Detroit's exciting walk-off wins this season. Shut up!!

Twitchy resists the Bremer jinx through two outs, then coughs up a walk and a single. Uh...Joe? Stop that! But by inducing a popout to Cuddyer in right, Joe says, "the nail-biting may cease".

And then he thought a little, and he added, "Until tomorrow."

(MIN 4, DET 2)

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Weekend Recap

This post first appeared as collaborative guest-posting on Batgirl. TBL is appearing under her nom-de-plume, "infield".

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infield: Well, RD, how about that? The Twins sweep the Landed Gentry in four games. Though it would probably be more accurate to say that Kansas City swept themselves. Every one of those gajillion walks they handed out was just another bristle on that broom.

RD: You couldn't be more right, infield. And, quite frankly, while some are saying that sweeping the Royals is a bit like beating your little sister at arm wresling, a sweep is a sweep is a sweep this time of year. If they want to keep sending Ambiorix Burgos to the mound and Reggie Sanders, the Royals' answer to Tony Batista, to the plate, so be it.

infield: Very true, RD. Of course, the Twins were working with some substitute players, too, but with considerably more success. I tell ya, the Twins farm system must have some kind of Miracle Gro for Prospects, because Minnesota gets itself a bumper crop of surprisingly good players every year.

RD: Well, position players, anyway. Two of the Jasons -- Bartlett and Tyner combined Sunday for nine hits and Josh Rabe made a fine catch in left field. If only the auditions for the No. 5 starter would go so well. Bonser, Baker and Smith sounds more like a law firm than a roll call of those recently auditioned. Mike Smith -- 3 innings, 80 pitches, 1 glove throw. I don't suspect we'll be seeing much more of him. But the important numbers are this: 4 games, 4 victories, 630 frequent flyer miles between Kansas City and Detroit, where the Twins begin a BIG 3-game series Monday against the Tigers.

infield: That fifth starter is a conundrum. Lohse traded, Baker and Bonser racking up their own frequent flyer miles, and Smith picking a very bad time to give Crazy Pepe's Chug n' Toss a whirl. I do wonder who we'll see in five days, RD. I'm all for giving Shaggy a shot, but I know a lot of folks out there are salivating over the thought of Matt Garza. And speaking of the phenomenal performance of Jason Bartlett today, I'd just like to point out that his 5-for-5 day came when he decided to wear his socks the right way for the first time this season. Coincidence? I think not.

RD: Amen to that, infield. And as long as we're pointing, I'd like to point out that it feels good to walk away from a game to see an excellent movie,as I did Saturday when Sweet-n-Sassy suggested seeing "Little Miss Sunshine," which by the way is NOT the Jeremy Bonderman story. I suspect that Batlings will be paying undivided attention to the games over the next three nights, although Monday is a travel day for Batgirl and we wish her all the best as she and JEB set forth on their Eastern adventure.

infield: You know what gives me hope, RD? Hope for the upcoming series and for the rest of this season? It's the way this team is sucking it up and soldiering on, despite the no doubt crushing knowledge that Batgirl can't be with them right now. Just look at all they've accomplished since her cable got turned off. It's inspiring, it really is.

RD: Speaking of inspiration, RD feels inspired to end our report with some haiku, if that's OK. So here goes:

Batgirl has gone East
Where she'll resume writing soon
Twins kick a$$ for her

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Clutching at Straws

This post first appeared as a guest-posting on BatGirl. (Her nickname guide is here.)

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Author's note: BG is off for a few days bravely claiming a portion of Red Sox Nation in the name of Twins Territory. Substitute bloggers will attempt to keep you rabble amused in the meantime.

Twins @ Landed Gentry, W 8-2

Half an hour before the game Thursday night, a knot of Twins huddled in the visitors clubhouse in Kansas City.

"Well, who's it going to be tonight?" asked Radke. "I can't, I'm starting. I have to go warm up!"

"I could do it," offered Luis Rodriguez.

"Hah. You did it yesterday, and look where that got us!" snorted Little Nicky Punto.

"Well, you did it Tuesday, and that was just as bad!" Lil' Rod retorted huffily.

Radke rolled his eyes and grabbed his glove. "I gotta go. You guys work this out." And he left.

"That was NOT just as bad!" yelled LNP. "Yesterday we had THREE errors!"

"One of them was yours, stupid!"

"And one of them was yours, clutz!"

"Hey, now, everybody settle down," said Torii, stepping between LNP and Lil' Rod. "I did it on Monday, and we kicked ass, so I'll do it again."

"Ummm..." interrupted Lew Ford, adjusting his reading glasses. He was peering at a small leaflet. "It says here each team must send, at minimum, seven different players in succession."

The others looked at each other uneasily.

"And, ah, what exactly does that mean?" wondered Sweetcheeks.

"It means," said the voice of Pat Neshek, emanating from a pile of fan mail twice the size of CC Sabathia, "that you can't do it again until six other people have. Four now, since there have been two since you."

"Crap," said Sweetcheeks. "Why do we have to do this, anyway?"

Lew flipped through the leaflet. "It says here the Commissioner thinks it will add interest to the game."

LNP suggested an alternate use of the Commissioner's time which caused Lil' Rod to blush a fiery red.

"Can you breathe in there?" Dr. Morneau asked the pile.

"Yep, it's all good." Neshek affirmed.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" wondered Josh Rabe, coming upon them on his way back from extra BP.

"We're trying to figure out who's going to do it tonight," the good Doctor explained.

"I'll do it," Rabe shrugged. "I feel lucky." And off he went, bat on his shoulder, whistling a merry tune.

"Think he'll be okay?" Lil' Rod fretted.

"He said he felt lucky," Morneau said philosophically. "We'll find out soon enough."

Rabe made his way through the corridors until he reached a special room hidden beneath home plate. The umpire crew chief and Kansas City shortstop Andres Blanco were already there.

"You're representing the Twins?" the umpire asked.

"Yes, sir!" Rabe said brightly. "And I feel lucky! Shall we?"

"All right," said the umpire. "Turn around, both of you. And no peeking!"

Rabe and Blanco turned around and stared at the wall. Rabe resumed his cheerful whistling.

"Stop that!" hissed Blanco, who was very nervous.

"You may turn around," the umpire announced. They did, and he was holding two straws in his clenched fist, carefully arranged to appear the exact same length.

Rabe and Blanco looked at each other, then at the straws. Two hands shot out, both straws were plucked. They held their straws up next to each other, and saw that Rabe's was clearly longer.

"Woo-hoo!" cried Rabe, jumping up and down. "We get to play baseball!" He ran off to share the good news with his teammates.

Blanco threw down his inadequate reed. "Crap," he said glumly. "Ass-ball."

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Weekend Recap

My final guest appearance on Batgirl.

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Minnesota @ Pittsburgh, 6/16-6/18
W 4-2, W 5-3, W 8-2

Oh.

Oh, my.

My word.

A sweep. On the road, even. Without the benefit of a DH, no less. (Though some will say, and others already have, that has been true all season.)

Two sweeps in a row. Nine home runs over the last two series--four for Kubel, three for the Doctor. 31 runs. 54 hits. 26 walks. Staff ERA of 1.42. 53 strikeouts. 11 runs, 9 earned. A seven-game winning streak.

Hit-and-runs were executed, bunts were placed, bases were stolen. Bats went BOOM! And BOOM! And BOOM! again. Pitchers pitched out of jams and sometimes went multiple innings without creating any. Bases were loaded, and runners were then brought home.

Fans were given hope, and that hope was not cruelly crushed. It was not even mildly dented. Tricky plays were executed. Ordinary plays were executed. Third place was snatched from Cleveland's jaws.

Who are these people, and what have they done with our Twins?

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Just Another Day

This post was written while guest-posting on BatGirl. (You may need Batgirl's nickname guide to get through this one if you're not a regular BG reader.)

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Are you sitting down? You should sit down. This is going to come as something of a shock.

You know the Twins? The Minnesota Twins?

They won a road game.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Settle down! No need to start packing for the Apocalypse just yet. Now, if they should win the series, then by all means do start scanning the horizon for horsemen.

It was an epic pitchers' duel, hearkening back to the great Santana/Schilling matchup of '06, made all the more dramatic by the thunder and lightning and Biblical amounts of rain outside the window for those of us watching in the Twin Cities metro.

The young guns on the mound were stupendous. For the Twins the 'Cisco Kid was sitting the bitches down left and right, right and left, and even the occasional switch. And our batters faced Pirates' pitcher Ian Snell with this look on their face like "huh??" after every pitch. There was remarkably little assbattery involved, really.

Digression: I noticed early in the game that Cuddyer looks like he hasn't slept in a week. And not the good kind of not sleeping in a week, either. What's up with that? Infield needs a scoop!

But, you see, 'Cisco made a wee tiny mistake in the third, and there was a runner on, and then inning after inning went by and nobody who wasn't a pitcher did nothin'. And it was starting to look a lot like just another day on the road for the Twins. To wit, a loss.

Especially in the 6th when 'Cisco fielded a bunt and kinda overthrew it in the Doctor's general direction and the runner moved to second with one out. But 'Cisco is 'Cisco, and he doesn't give a fig for your runners in scoring position, oh no. He just got himself two outs and left the guy standing there at second wondering if everyone had forgotten about him. They had.

But then in the 7th, all of a sudden, our boys solved the puzzle of Ian Snell. LNP walked. The Chairman singled (naturally). He Who Sleepeth Not doubled and LNP scored. Thus endeth the shutout. Yay!

Next the good Doctor hit a sacrifice fly (because he cares nothing for personal glory; the team is all), and the Chairman came home and we were TIED. Wow.

And then Sweetcheeks came up with one out and a runner on third and I admit I kind of put my hands over my eyes. But Dick said something about a single and I looked up just in time to see Cuddy cross the plate.

So the Twins were leading 3-2 and Snell got the hook and Damaso Marte came on and did what he usually does to the Twins, curse him, which is send them back to the dugout. 'Cisco came back out for one more inning, which turned out to be just long enough for him to get one more strikeout and reach a career-high eleven Ks.

"Just another day," Liriano said. "I strike out a lot of people."

Just another day for YOU, 'Cisco. You and your Santana-like hotness. But a very special day for us fans back home.

So the ninth rolls around and we still have a lead and poor worn-out Nathanator is warming in the pen, which I don't understand because Boo did great in the 8th. So I think to myself, I think, "Self, we need some more runs. If only to give poor Joe a little wiggle room. Or twitch room, as the case may be."

Well, the good Doctor and Sweetcheeks must have been thinking along the same lines, because they both singled. And Lewwwwwww came up and put a decent bunt down third base way, which is good 'cause Gardy had this cute little cocktail dress with matching heels all ready for Lew to wear back to the hotel if he didn't, and then...

...my cable went out.

%$!# storm.

Of course WCCO radio had turned into the Weather Channel while I wasn't looking, so I crossed my fingers and turned on my computer in the middle of an elecrical storm. And I'd like to say I did it for you, dear readers, but that would be untrue. My cable went out with runners in scoring position and I had to know what happened.

And Gameday told me that they walked my boy Bartlett because he's dangerous with that bat, I tell ya. Then the Pirates changed pitchers, and the new guy walked Rondell White with the bases loaded. We had a TWO run lead! And then there was some striking out.

So the Nathanator comes on, and I'm a little worried because frankly he threw more pitches the night before than he had in the entire month of April. But I should not have worried, because he is the Nathanator and 1-2-3! The Pirates got Nathanated.

And the Twins won. On the road.

It's true.

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How Sweep It Is

This post originally appeared on BatGirl.

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*yaaaaaaaaaawn*

Hmm. Posting before coffee. This should be largely unintelligible. Ah, well, BatGirl will forgive me. She's the forgiving sort. I've just got to remember not to slip up and talk about that time in Reno when she...er, never mind.

Ahem. Moving along.

Let's see. Trying to remember the game. I was there, you know. But until the coffee hits, the memory's a bit shaky. However, I made notes! Yes, planning ahead. Here they are...

Kubel. Boom.

Oh, right. Kubel hit his fortieth home run of the series last night. It was a pretty one, too. Yes, Kubel got out the boom-boom stick again. Or, in the spirit of the sweep, the broom-broom stick.

Right. No puns before coffee. Got it. Stop throwing things, I bruise easy.

Bartlett--diving stop, baserunning, ABs

Oh, yeah! Did you see Bartlett last night? Did you? There's yer leadership, right there! Having good at-bats, getting hits, running the basepaths like the devil (or, alternatively, a plane ticket to Rochester) were on his heels, and making a sweet, sweeeet diving stop in the field.

And I'm not just saying that because he's my #2 boyfriend. (Yes, Boo, you're still #1.)

Ortiz launches moon shot destined to hit Killebrew banner, bounces off speaker to plunk down in front of Torii for a single.

Okay, now that was the single funniest moment of the season thus far. And the luckiest. Then again, I've always wanted to see someone hit one of those banners... But we'll save that honor for the good Doctor, eh?

Silva out. Knee?

No, thank the baseball gods (who are just and kind and hey, thanks for the sweep, guys). Just a cramp. Little charlie horse in the ol' hammy. He's fine.

And was is just me, or were we treated to the 2005 Edition Silva? You know what it was, of course. He wore his socks the right way. The baseball gods smile upon those who wear their socks the right way. Yes they do.

8th: need three pitchers for one out. Bad Justin--no hockey!

Just when the game was cruising along and we're all thinking Papi's speaker-ball will be the most exciting moment of the game, the 8th inning happened. Boo gave up a hit and hit a guy, then Reyes came on and got a grounder to the Doctor, who kinda fumbled it. A lot. Enter the Nathanator, who predictably sat down the first bitch he faced, but then decided to keep things interesting--sac fly/run, single/run, single, popup. But we still had a two-run lead.

They have a lefty sidearmer. Scary.

Not so scary in reality (he let an inherited runner score and dealt us a walk and a hit in the process), but the mere concept of facing a lefty sidearmer gives me the shudders.

Uh...Joe?

Nathan's ninth was, well...a little nerve-wracking. It started out great, with a groundout and a popout, and the loud annoying Boston fan a few rows behind me finally shut the bleep up.

Then there was the single and the stolen base. And then there was Papi, still steamed about that speaker-ball and about getting released all those years ago which is hardly fair because it worked out great for him but there's no accounting for grudges. And Papi smoked a run-scoring single and the Nathanator's laboring at about a gazillion pitches and looking a little peaked, too.

But Joe had a little talk with his glove (he does that, have you noticed?) and my sources tell me his glove said "Snap out of it! You are THE NATHANATOR. THE NATHANEST OF JOES. Sit that bitch down."

And he did.

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Tonight, Liriano pitches AND bats! 6 pm Central, don't miss it.

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Flag Day

I'm posting over on BatGirl while BatGirl is out of town. This post originally appeared there.

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Is this thing on?

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Um, hi. I'm infield. Usually I post over at Third Base Line (there's a link in the sidebar somewhere, if you're curious), but BG asked me to entertain you all while she's lolling on the beach in California. (I expect souvenirs, BG!) I tend more toward sarcasm than sass, but I'll do my best.

Let's just ease into this with that old standard, the running commentary...

Inning the First
Radke loads the bases with one out, partly thanks to Kubel and Bartlett both losing Big Papi's popup in the teflon roof (2010...2010...), but he gets out of it with a couple of popups that actually find gloves.

The Red Sox? Leaving the bases loaded? In the first inning? Against RADKE? Inconceivable! Good job, Brad! Now cut it out with the baserunners, already.

Inning the Second
Boston starter Matt Clement seems to be on a personal quest to throw as many balls as humanly possible without actually walking in a run. He probably wishes he'd walked Jason Kubel, though, because Kubel takes the one and only strike he sees way, way up into the right field upper deck, to heights only Morneau had heretofore reached. One hopes Justin isn't territorial about his landing spot; the last thing this team needs is pouting power hitters.

Boy, is this game starting off SLOW, though. After just two and a half innings, an hour has gone by and Radke and Clement have racked up over 100 pitches between them. "Efficiency" is not the word of the day in the early goings.

Inning the Third
In the bottom of the inning, Clement loaded the bases without any "help" from the roof by issuing three straight one-out walks. Then Torii Hunter came up to the plate and did what he does best--hit into a double play.

New rule: with runners on and less than two out, we pinch-hit for Hunter. I don't care what freakin' inning it is.

Inning the Fourth
Kubel comes within a sneeze of having a two-homer game. Everybody wants Rondell White to get on base, including Matt Clement, who helps him out with a ball to the shoulder. Jason Bartlett (free at last!) welcomes himself back to the big leagues with a single to center. I'm so happy for him I jump right out of my Birkenstocks. Then we get a run the old-fashioned way on a Castillo double. Fast-forward to Joe Mauer's two-out at-bat, when the AL batting leader...grounds out to second??? Oh, say it ain't so, Joe...

Inning the Fifth
Dick & Bert interview Johan Santana. They barely get past "congratulations on your 1000th career strikeout" before Radke gives up the inevitable tater, a solo to Coco Crisp. It's kind of a relief to have that out of the way, really. You knew it was coming, you just hoped it wouldn't be one of those soul-crushing 20-run homers.

Okay, now, see? Hunter + runner on 1st = grounder to the shortstop. Thank the umpire for calling him safe--it could have gone either way. Morneau is out at 2nd. Clement deals a four-pitch walk to Kubel and then leaves the game with some sort of physical problem (as opposed to the six walks). Some guy named, appropriately for Flag Day, Van Buren comes in and gets Rondell White to pop out to short to end the inning, which is kind of like getting my cat to beg for cheese. She just loves cheese. Especially havarti.

Inning the Sixth
Bartlett bobbles a grounder, drops it, grabs it up again and STILL gets the double play started. Now that's impressive. And just a teensy bit lucky.

And, in the spirit of the eternal maxim "he who maketh the great play to end the half-inning, batteth to open the next", Bartlett smacks his second hit of the night as he leads off the bottom of the sixth. Ah, hits from the shortstop...how divine.

Castillo's at-bat takes about ten hours, since Van Buren feels the need to throw three pickoffs for every pitch, but he finally coaxes a walk. Punto puts on a bunting clinic to advance the runners, and Van Buren can pitch to Mauer (yikes!) or intentionally walk him but then face Cuddyer with the bases loaded. Talk about Scylla and Charybdis. Whew. Glad I'm not him. He goes with the intentional walk.

Bartlett nearly gets nailed in the back with a pickoff attempt at third. Wouldn't it have been funny if the ball had sailed off into left? Cuddy's bases-loaded walk is worth a snicker, though. Hey, free RBI! Van Buren trudges off to celebrate Flag Day in the dugout.

Did I mention it's Flag Day? Oh, yes, it is. And with the bases still loaded Justin Morneau plants his flag in the left field bleachers. Oh, Canada!

Inning the Seventh
Go, Radke. Sit. Relax. Enjoy the rare and wonderful luxury of run support. Let Willie Eyre face the Red Sox for the first time. He needs the experience. Besides, he wears his socks the right way.

Inning the Eighth
So, someone decides to jump out of the stands and go running all over the field until they're tackled by the Boston batboy. This makes Willie Eyre laugh too hard to pitch straight, and he gets the hook after two straight two-out walks. Breathe, Willie. Breathe.

Inning the Ninth
Lohse comes on in relief with a seven-run lead. You'd think this would make me feel secure, but oh please by all that's holy don't let him blow this I'll do anything really I will just get us out of this game with a win.

Hey, whaddaya know? He did it!

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