You Say Goodbye, While I say Hello...

As for why I haven't been blogging the last few days, well, let's say it involves long work shifts + friends in town = working/drinking. Now on with the show:


The only thing that sucks about this? No more Sidney Ponson's Diary, courtest of Donnalove at bat-girl.com.


I know I'm a few days late, but welcome back Lew Ford, Jedi Knight. Here's a link to a song I know you'll enjoy, so long as it's not at work, in the earshot of children, or around anyone with a dislike of superfluous F-bomb's (not of the Liriano variety). Click on the link, then click on the song "Lew." Oh yeah, there's also a picture of Pat with the Nathanist of Joes, who, rumor has it, is kind of a big deal.
Click me!

May 10 - Twins vs White Sox.

See yesterday's post, and replace Ramon Ortiz with Carlos Silva (except for the first inning), and you have my thoughts on today's game.

Yuck.

Man of the Hour for May 9, 2007...

There is none. It COULD have been Ortiz, if not for the disasterous first inning. It COULD have been Justin Morneau, with two on with two outs in the eighth. It COULD have been Kubel, Bartlett, or Castillo in the ninth, with two on and zero, one, then two outs, consecutively.

The Twins COULD have won this game, but instead they lost, and left me with a bad taste in my mouth, one that's familiar with skunky beer. Oh, wait - that taste is skunky beer. I forgot to read the "Born on" date.

As to why Ortiz gave up four runs in the first, I think it was intentional. Really. I think the Twins plan was to spot the bitch sox a big, early lead, have a few ass-bats to lull them into a false sense of security and confidence. Hell, it worked last night, right? Problem is, tonight they gave the bitch sox TOO MUCH confidence - I mean hell, no hits through four innings will give anyone confidence. And instead of folding like a cheap pair of bitch sox, they only almost folded like a cheap pair of bitch sox. Stupid bitch sox.

Of course, it didn't help that they forgot to do the thing you need to do to win ball games. Namely, HIT THE DAMN BALL WITH RUNNERS IN SCORING POSITION. Like, alot.

Oh well, I'm off work Thursday. So it looks like I'll have a full afternoon of skunky beer and yelling at/with the TV. Go twins.

Big Fish in a Small Pond

I remember it like it was two days ago. The Twins were down, 4-1, in the eighth inning, seemingly lost to the dispair of another humbling defeat. Where were the Piranah's teeth, I asked myself, before wondering where I should put the question mark in this sentence?

Then, it happened. The crafty, cranky veteran known as Mike Redmond hit an infield single - and remained unscathed himself over the course of the game, for once.

Little Nicky Punto, full of love, life, song, and cheer, got to the plate and said to himself, "I'm gonna hit this ball as hard as I can!" And he did - he mustered up all of his tiny muscles' strength and hit a single to center field.

Next up was Jason Bartlett, who apparently has remembered that he knows how to hit a baseball. "Who are we?" he shouted, as he hit an RBI double to deep right, that would have scored Little Nicky Punto if his legs weren't so, y'know, little.

"We're the f'n Piranahs!" shouted Luis Castillo, who grounded out to third, but more importantly, got Little Nicky home safely so his mommy could tuck him in.

Kubel was so excited by the two - yes, TWO run inning, that he struck out.

"I ain't no damn piranah," said Torii Hunter, "but I AM damn pretty," and then he delivered a pretty single to center field which scored Bartlett, and tied the game.

Bartlett almost won the game in the ninth, by almost getting an RBI hit, that almost (well, not almost) wasn't caught by those damn bitch sox. Stupid bitch sox.

And then, in the tenth, after two innings of bitch sox batters grounding the fudge out, Luis Castillo got himself a double. He would've grounded out to third, but their wasn't anyone to drive home, so what's the point, he thought.

Kubel was so excited by the extra base hit, he struck out again.

Torii Hunter was then intentionally walked to put a runner on first for a potential double play. As Torii walked his pretty self intentionally to first base, he knew there would be no double play, because when Cuddy goes out, he goes out in style by hitting a foul fly ball near first base - no ground ball bullcrap here.

And that's when Justin Morneau got sick of this extra innings crap (both the game he was playing in and the blackout restrictions from those boneheads at Bud Selig's office), and decided to end things dramatically by hitting the baseball approximately 9,000 feet (15,000 metric feet) into the upper deck of a passing Airbus.

"I'm no piranah!" he yelled, smiling as he rounded the bases, "I'm a Great White North Shark!"
At home plate, Little Nicky Punto held his arm as high as he could to pat Justin on the butt. "How about we call you a Piran'eh'?"

"No," said Justin. "That sounds stupid."

The very first Man of the Hour:

As if there's any f'n doubt.



With a solo shot in the 2nd to put the Twins on the board, and a walk-off three-run dinger to the upper deck to win the game, YOU, Justin Morneau (heretofore known as Obi-Wan Morneau-Bee) are the first Man of the Hour.

First things first...

This is not a blog about RBI's, WHIP's, ERA's, BB's, K's,HBP's, 2B's, or other stats, although they will be mentioned at times. It's not about strategy, roster moves, or game day line-ups, although they will be scrutinized, praised, or damned at times.

It's just about those plucky piranahs from the plains, the Minnesota Twins. And an excuse for me to write (what I hope are) humorous columns about them, to give you added cheer when they win, and a chuckle when they lose. Kinda like Bat-Girl. Or Pulling a Blylevin.

I will decide the Man of the Hour. The guy that you'd buy a beer for after a win and regale with stories about how your pee-wee T-Ball team would've taken state if your stupid coach hat let you bat instead of his kid.

And just to get things started, my favorite picture of a Nick Punto slide-to-be: