Chicago at Twins. Twins 6, Bitch Sox 1

Ron Gardenhire's day began like any other. He woke up at 7, fixed himself a nice tall glass of orange juice and a big bowl of Lucky Charms (because they're magically delicious), made himself a cappuccino, and did the crossword in The Times. At 7:45 the phone rang; Gardy knew exactly who it was.

"What is it, Newmie?" he barked.

"Hey, Skip. Did you get 22 down?"

"I'm not there yet. What's the clue?"

"Eight letters. Its motto is 'Labor Omnia Vincit.' What is that, French?"

"Honestly, Newmie, your Spanish is good but your Latin sucks! It means 'Labor conquers all things.' It's the state motto of Oklahoma."

"Heh. The Bitch Sox motto would be, 'Bitching conquers all things!'"

" Oh, Al. You're such a cut-up. Now let me finish the crossword."

"Of course! Okay, I'm going to go back to my bacon, sausage, ham, and Cheez Whiz omelet. Thanks, Skip!"

By 9:00, Gardy was on the internet, where he checked Batgirl ("Yes, yes, it is great to be alive! Darn tootin', Batgirl!") then logged into the Little House on the Prairie fan forum, where he posts as NoNoNellie35. After pontificating a bit in the "How Manly is Manly?" thread, he went over to check on the stats for his pro bowling fantasy league, and found that with Patrick Allen's terrific performance in the first round of the Dyco Dringo Japan Cup, "Gardy's Bassmasters" had moved just ahead of "Hrbek's WWF Fabmeisters." Gardy shot off a taunting email to Hrbie ("The Bassmasters just kicked your ass-master!"), then checked Batgirl again to see if any new comments had been posted.

Then it was time for Addictive Fishing on OLN. (Capt. Blair has been particularly wacky lately, and Gardy long fantasized that he and the Crocodile Hunter might join forces for an extreme croc-hunting sport-fishing adventure. Now that would be Must See TV.)

Gardy usually does step aerobics to Addictive Fishing; the pulse-pounding excitement makes him work just that much harder, and this morning was no exception. He was breathing pretty hard when he finished, but that's how you know you've gotten a good workout. After a long, hot shower, he exfoliated extensively, then got dressed. He didn't have to be at the Dome for another couple of hours, so he made himself a Greek salad, then sat down in his favorite chair, and picked up a novel called The Disapparation of James, by a young Minnesota writer, which he's reading for his book club with Clay Matvick, Kevin Garnett, Roy Smalley, Robert Smith, and T.C. Bear. Gardy is always quite impressed with T.C.'s insights, especially for someone with only four fingers.

The time just flew by, and soon Gardy found it was late afternoon, well past time to be getting to the Dome. He closed the book with a sigh and gave it a little affectionate pat, then grabbed his iPod and went out the door to catch the bus.

"Gardy, you're late!" cried Shannon Stewart, who was standing outside the Dome when Gardy got off. Stewart had been at the Dome since 6:30 in the morning, as per his usual pregame ritual.

Gardy sighed. "Don't you have some Dome laps to do, Shannon?"

"Aw, crap! I do!" And Stewie went running off.

When Gardy got to the clubhouse he found Jacque Jones pacing back and forth in front of his locker. Jacque's jaw was clenched.

"What's up Jacque?" Gardy said. "Worried about Buerhle? It's not like I'm starting you."

"Naw, it's not that," Jacque said. "Did you read Batgirl today?"

"'Course I read Batgirl! Man, that chick hates the Bitch Sox worse than I do!"

"So you saw the article?"

Gardy shook his head. "What article?"

"The Bitch Sox article….Sometimes you gotta check Batgirl in the afternoons, Skip. Here you go…I printed out a copy for you."

And so Gardy began to read the now infamous Daily Southtown article. And that's when he started to vomit.

"It's okay, Gardy," said Jacque, putting his arm around his manager. "Let it out. Let it all out."

Gardy didn't stop vomiting for two hours. Every once in a while he would come up for air and say things like, "I'll give them one and done…(vomit)" and "They want antics on the basepaths? (vomit)" and "You want to know what's uncalled for?(vomit)" and "My part of the plate my Aunt Fanny…(vomit)."

And so it went. By 6:15 pm Gardy had vomited every bit of moisture out from his body and had said almost every sarcastic thing there was to say. There was nothing left. Jimmy Kahmann took one look at him and said, "You need an IV, stat." And Gardy said, "Why don't you worry about staying above .500, huh?" and Kahmann said, "I know, Skip, come with me now," and Gardy said, "You want players on the DL? I'll give you players on the DL," and Jimmy said, "That's a good boy. Take my hand." And Gardy said, "I'll give you something to bitch about, you pansy-ass Bitch Sox…"

And thus he was led out of the clubhouse, shaking his head and muttering to himself, while the Twins, hat in hands, gathered together to watch him go.

"Come on guys," said Shannon Stewart, after a moment of silence. "Let's do it for Gardy."

"That's right, Stewie," nodded Torii Hunter. "That's right."

"Testify!" squeaked Lew Ford.

And so they did. Pitcher Carlos Silva informed Kyle Lohse and Terence John that the third starter job was his, mucho gracias, while in the 4th inning the Twins batters showed Mark Buehrle a thing or two about roster depth. The Bitch Sox continued to field like Batgirl's 5th grade softball team, which is to say like a bunch of pre-pubescent girls in pigtails who haven't been playing the game for very long. It's very difficult to keep hearing this team tell us how much better they are than we when they just play so craptacularly. I mean, hi, have you ever had a fielding drill? You might want to look into it. I know the BP is really fun and all, but you know that half the game is actually played in the field? Right? Right?

Meanwhile, the Twins winning streak is at 8, the magic number is 6, and the Bitch Sox are at .500. Reports from the hospital have it that Gardy was muttering to himself well into the 6th inning, but after a bit of a medication upgrade, he was seen watching Jesse Crain set the Bitches down with a glassy stare and Jacque-Jones-sized smile on his face. So it is left to Batgirl to tell the Sox that they can keep bitching all they want, and she hopes they have a very nice, restful October.

Posted by Batgirl at September 16, 2004 01:03 AM