Kansas City at Twins. Twins 3, Royals 1.
So stick it, suckers!
That's right, Landed Gentry beeyatchs. Think you can come into my house and make fools of my boys? Huh? Well, how about I sic a little Johan Santana on you, how do you like it? He's the President of the United States of Batgirl, and he's not some wussy, do nothing president, like the guy with the eyebrows and the dog in Clear and Present Danger. He's like a Harrison freakin' Ford president, like if you're going to hijack his plane to hold him hostage in order to get crazy-ass Russian generals released from jail, well, first off, that crazy-ass Russian general is going to get shot, like a lot, and secondly Harrison Ford is going to kick your ass and the very last words you're going to hear are him snarling, "Get off my plane," before he throws you the hell off and you strangle in your own parachute. Hard. That kind of president, my friends.
Okay, okay, I know I might be overreacting, they're the Kansas City Royals and when they win we should give them lots of encouragement and praise, like a toddler who uses the poo poo tron correctly, but, frankly, I can't seem to face up to the facts. I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax. It was all so easy back in June when we were winning all the time yet were completely out of the pennant race—all the pleasure, none of the soul-curdling pain. And the Twins, meanwhile, are like that guy in that new movie where he has to keep his adrenaline going the whole time, it’s like Speed except he's the bus and the speedometer is his heart and also I don't think Sandra Bullock's in it. But the point is, as soon as the adrenaline goes down, the bomb goes off, and the Twins, who just returned from Bitch Soxia to this, are like that. So what I am here to say, and I am speaking to you, Minnesota Twins, is now the games are all important, every single one, from the Yanks to the Devil Rays, to the Ligers, to the Royals again, and Batgirl wants you to keep plunging those adrenaline shots directly into your big ol' small market hearts.
You know who knows this? El Presidente. He showed up to deal tonight, and deal he did, on just a day and a half's rest, too. We've seen some nearly-mortal performances from Supernatural the last few weeks—and for the President, nearly mortal is still good enough to be the best in the league—but this wasn't one them. Two on in the seventh with one out? Qu'est-ce que c'est? Oh, well, here, try to hit this. Can't? Too bad. Please, have a seat. And, while we're at it, you, in the on deck circle? Why don't you just sit back down. Thank you ever so much.
Johan knew he was going to have to pitch his brains out tonight because, other than Michael Cuddyer who apparently didn't get the memo, the Twins offensive players clearly had decided to take a few days off from all the hurly burly and sent surgically-altered animated corpses to the park to play in their stead, and those corpses sure as hell can't hit. Which goes to answer the eternal question—who would win in an epic battle between Royals starting pitchers and animated corpses. Turns out it’s the Royals starting pitchers. Who knew?
So it was Johan's job not to let in any runs, figuring one of the corpses might accidentally make contact eventually, (thank you, Rondell White-corpse), and he performed admirably until Esteban German so rudely dinked a homer off the left field wall. I hate people when they're not polite.
We were sunk then, until the animate-corpse Twins figured out a way to suck and score runs at the same time—GIDP with the bases loaded. That was all Johan needed to kick the Royals off of his plane for good.
It was a heroic performance, worthy of Harrison Ford, of poetry, of song, of—dare I say—Johan Santana. This is what is known in the business as stepping it up. To close, this from genius Batling Twayn, with a little help from Walt Whitman:
O Johan! my Johan! our fearful trip’s not done;
The ship’s not weather’d every rack, the prize we seek’s not won.
The port is near, the crowd you hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding Sox of White,
Have on deck this KC wreck;
We face the Yankees’ might.
O Johan! my Johan! rise up and hear the yells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the victory bells;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the Dome a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Johan! dear Johan!
More laurels upon your head;
It is no dream that on the mound,
You’re the one batters most dread.
Been listening to a lot of Talking Heads lately, Beege?
Posted by: frightwig at August 31, 2006 09:59 PMCan I just say, let's keep this up. Well, yes, the winning, but I also meant this particular run of cultural references, because Walt Whitman and Talking Heads are a lot more my speed than, say, it's Hard Out There for a Pimp, which I would be hard-pressed to get stuck in my head since I do not know the tune. (Yeah, I know, I'm OLD. Just wait, it will happen to you.)
See we'll be ok - I knew having a pixie stix break would work - I'll keep having them until we lose =)
Hopefully - Carlos' sinker ball will sink - perhaps the baseball gods will add a little lead to the game ball!??!
Much love
Wonder Woman
PS - did anyone see Torii on the 6 pm news - he got a little bit hot under the collar -
Posted by: Wonder Woman at August 31, 2006 10:06 PM*PHEW* I'm glad we actually won today. If we didn't, I might've succumbed to the voices again.
Posted by: Twinsboy at August 31, 2006 10:16 PMJohan is definitely Jack Ryan badass. Especially the Jack Ryan who in "Executive Orders" blew up the house of the guy responsible for a germ warfare attack on the US, on a LIVE WORLDWIDE TV BROADCAST!
hopefully the addition of phil nevin will get this team back on track at home and they can start rolling once again.
Bring on the Yankees. Lets make Arod look even more foolish.
Posted by: TwinsinBoston at August 31, 2006 10:36 PMCalm, bat-friends, calm. We're light years ahead of where we thought we'd be on June 7. We're playing meaninful games in September, Bartlett has been freed, and we have a cool new nickname.
The sleeplessness? The barely resisted urge to chuck my XM radio into the surf after yet-another double play? The overwhelming feeling That A.J. Must. Die.? Mere passing tremors of a calm soul.
Ahhh, who are we trying to kid? Ourselves? This bunch reminds me of a particular girlfriend from college (back in the Paleozoic Era) - I love them dearly, despite the moments of near-homicidal rage. Haven't felt that way about any Twins club since '87. (Teams since then have inspired elation, smugness, bemusement, lots of pity, the joy of rediscovering a prodigal friend - but never felonious rage.)
And now we've picked up a *Cub*?!?
In the days of Frank 'n Bert 'n Hit the Dirt, Section 225 used to have a ritual in which we'd ceremoniously deliver a Kiss of Death to the scorecard picture of one George Frazier, cut it out of the program, then burn it ("Noooooooo smoking in the Metrodome!"), lest the Ex-Cub Factor doom his benighted relief appearances. It usually didn't work, but that probably had more to do with his innate suckiness rather than the Ex-Cub Factor.
Hell. What cultish ritual can we dream up THIS time? It's September. Into the abyss.
Posted by: tgd at September 1, 2006 05:13 AMBG,
I am not sure I like what Boston has done to you in just a few short days. I mean, back in the day, you'd respond to much worse times (indeed, Sucking Times) through meditation in a hole and well wishes for everyone.
Boston has made you angry, and fast. Remember that love is the true power of baseball. Fight the "real" Boston curse -- the spongeing of all love and fun out of baseball.
As for TwinsInBoston -- hope for you may be long gone, depending how long you have been subjected to the Boston way of life. I wish you all the best for a speedy recovery.
Now, the series is here. The barometer for that ever-coveted first round of the playoffs...well, except without any of the best pitchers...
Good luck this weekend. My little boy (who seems to have taken a liking to Abreu and whose first words will be "Go Yankees" if I have anything to say about it) will be decked in full gear for this weekend. We have been discussing this series for quite some time, and are prepared for some excellent baseball. Let's hope the weather allows for it.
Warmly,
YankeeFan
First of all, to Twayn I must express all amazement for the consistently high level of your posts; you shame us all. Second of all, to YankeeFan, may you enjoy the delights of watching your team and ours do battle, and may the best combatant win. (And may that combatant be the Twins, every single time.) And as for your little one, let me offer words of hope to you; mine (at 18 months) can already say "Twins", he can identify a Twins logo (both home and away caps), and terms like "home run" and "glove" and "bat" and "ball" and "Dome Dog" and "mound" and "TC Bear" are a regular part of his vocabulary. Oh, and he's 4-0 at Twins games he's attended. If we lived in Minneapolis instead of in DC, we'd be at every game and the Twins would never lose at home ever again.
Oh, and finally, Phil Nevin is not a Cub. Ron Santo was a Cub. Ernie Banks and Mark Grace and Ferguson Jenkins were Cubs; Nevin just played there briefly. Nevin is a nice add; he can DH or play first or catch, I think. Welcome to the team, Phil - feel free to be all the piranhta you can be.
Posted by: adidasman at September 1, 2006 08:42 AMI'm gonna have to go rent "Air Force One" this weekend. :nods: I liked that movie.
Posted by: wc at September 1, 2006 09:53 AM"who would win in an epic battle between Royals starting pitchers and animated corpses"
Folks here where I live (Kansas City) have been agonizing over this question since they surrendered the division in '03. This week they were very relieved to find the answer. I think.
Ah, ah!!! A reference to THE American Poet!
For all of you nervous as we race toward the finish, more words of wisdom stolen from Walt -
Have you heard that it was good to win the pennant?
I also say it is good to fall, races are lost in the same spirit
in which they are won.
SO have no fear, all is right in the end.
MM
Flagstaff, AZ
adidasman: may the best combatant win?
MM: I also say it is good to fall?
HORSE HOCKEY! May the Twins win every dang game, regardless of whether they're the best combatant, most worthy, or even marginally close! Let's face it, if the "best combatant" won all the time, this team would be playing pattycake with the Tribe to stay ahead of the Royals.
also good to fall? Nooooooooooo never good to fall. Two solid months of "falling" early in the year should have taught that lesson!
Philosophy and such is for the off-season! Now is the time to WIN by any means necessary!
I shudder at the kinds of values you people are teaching your kids! ;)
JC
Posted by: JimCrikket at September 1, 2006 11:47 AMHere's what I said, JC: "...may the best combatant win. (And may that combatant be the Twins, every single time.)" I was just trying to sound civil to YF whilst actually saying that I hope we kick his team's bum all over the ballpark - too subtle for you, eh?
Posted by: adidasman at September 1, 2006 01:32 PMI love you guys.
Posted by: Batgirl at September 1, 2006 01:36 PMWe heart you right back, BG.
And adidasman, subtlety is generally lost on me. I'm greedy. I don't care if the Twins' "combatantness" sucks beyond all that is holy, I want the wins. If the Twins make Cory Lidle look like Cy Young facing nothing but Little League assbatters... and the only way the Twins can pull out a win is from Cano suddenly coming down with Knoblachitis, so be it.
Well... I care... but you get my point. Playing fair is nice. Looking good is fine. Being good is better. Winning is the best and really all that's important when all is said and done. I can't believe I'm the only one around here who had a baseball coach for a father to teach him this stuff!
Posted by: JimCrikket at September 1, 2006 01:53 PM"(And may that combatant be the Twins, every single time.)" Which part of that doesn't say that I want the Twins to win every single game? Never mind. You're right, JimCrikket - you want to win more than any of us! We're all just wimps, ready to cling to some pitifully atruistic dream of some kind of gentlemanly sporting contest in which the more deserving team always triumphs, while you have the panache to state that you want the Twins to win every time, no matter what! YOU stand alone! YOU are the only Batling with the hunger it takes to win it all!!! We bow to your relentless fervor - your unbridled lust for victory!!!!!!!
Just joking, you know. I do kinda like it when the Twins win, too, just so you know.
Posted by: adidasman at September 1, 2006 03:04 PMDearest Mr. Man,
I fear you have taken offense where absolutely none was meant. It seems Mr. Crikket was being quite self-mocking and jocular.
Concerned,
Batgirl
I'm not sure whether I hope the Jackal stayed up half the night praying in preparation for his start (as he was reported to have done earlier this year) or whether I hope he got some sleep.
Hear, O God, my voice in my complaint;
guard the Jackal from the terror of the Yankees.
Psalm 64
Yes, BG, perhaps I took M*A*S*H's Father Mulcahy's "Jocularity! Jocularity!" thing too far. No offense intended adidasman. Just kiddin around with tongue firmly implanted in cheek.
My bad.
JC
Posted by: JimCrikket at September 1, 2006 03:53 PMFour words: I LOVED THAT GAME! ;)
Posted by: TwinsPrincess at September 1, 2006 04:18 PMDamn that's good writing.
Posted by: John Salmon at September 1, 2006 07:14 PMI once managed to work "You're talking a lot, but you're not saying anything" into a conversation.
Excellent work, BG!
Posted by: dub at September 1, 2006 09:19 PM"I once managed to work "You're talking a lot, but you're not saying anything" into a conversation."
Careful, there dub. I resemble that remark.
PROFESSOR brianS
Posted by: brianS at September 2, 2006 05:39 PM