Wednesday, July 30, 2008

The Hutt

What up world,

As I have had the ability to watch the Twins all week long, I have enjoyed getting to see what several of the new team members look like. Rather than viewing still profile pictures on ESPN or MLB, I can see them actually move. Very exciting. One player that is new to the Twins that intrigued me tonight was pitcher, Livan the Hutt. I decided to do a little research on Livan following the Twins terrible loss to the Evil Southsiders this evening.

According to Wikipedia, Livan the Hutt is a 600 year old crime lord that resides in a desert palace on the planet Tatooine during the offseason. He moves from team to team collecting larger and larger ransoms for his services. So far he has stolen from the Florida Marlins, San Francisco Giants, Montreal Expos, Washington Nationals, Arizona Diamondbacks, and now the Minnesota Twins.

The majority of the time, team GM's are fooled by the Hutt's promises of eating innings. He eats innings and everything else that he can find (including swallowing Lil' Nicky Punto whole one time). It is thought that he often eats while on the mound, keeping food hidden in various parts of his uniform. Evidence of this can be seen when, instead of throwing the baseball, a large meatball emerges from his right hand. This happens quite frequently with each start. I spoke with Carlos Quentin of the Sox after the game tonight. He told me that he hadn't eaten all day, in anticipation of Livan the Hutt's delicious meatballs.

In addition to his claims of eating innings, the Hutt now can claim to be a "veteran leader". All that this title has lead to is Livan making Gomez and Casilla dance around in slave girl costumes in the locker room. While Frankie Liriano is stuck making AAA hitters cry like little girls, Livan is making $5 million and will most likely have a permanent spot in the rotation.

According the Wikipedia, Livan the Hutt has a grim sense of humor, a bellicose laugh, an insatiable innings appetite, and an affinity for gambling, slave girls, and torturing Twins fans. I'm hoping that the Twins recognize that they have been swindled before it's too late. I'm not sure how much longer Lil Nicky, Go-go, and Lexi can last.

-Sota

Canadian Invasion

What up world,

History lesson. In the 1920's the United States developed a plan to invade Canada in response to a treaty between Japan and Great Britain. It was called "War Plan Red". It involved the capture of several Canadian cities through coordinated air and sea attacks. The goal of the plan was to preemptively strike so that Britain couldn't use Canada as a staging area for attacks of their own on the US.

At the same time, Canadians were preparing their defenses if there was war. Their plan was appropriately called "Defensive Scheme Number One", and was developed by James "Buster" Brown. Buster's plan called for a Canadian invasion of several smaller cities in the US, including Minneapolis. The surprise attacks would catch the Americans off-guard, giving the British enough time to send reinforcements. Once the reinforcements arrived, the Canadians would pull back to the border.

Eventually both plans were scrapped and we started embracing our northern neighbors. We welcomed hockey players, comedians, and tourists into the US. In return, the Canadians have allowed us to make fun of them, pillage their fishing stocks, and have sexy times with their tourists. The relationship has flourished.

However, recently I was informed that Canada has a secret invasion plan, appropriately named "Defensive Scheme Number Two". In this plan, they are focusing all of their efforts on taking over one city at a time, with Chicago being the first city of choice. To do this, they are breaking the cities spirit through their major sports teams.

Steve Nash unleashed his Canadian fury on the Bulls twice this season. Edmonton and Vancouver were designated as Blackhawk killers, going 7-1 against them last season. The Cub's Canadians have been doing well this season, but Ryan Dempster has volunteered to break his wrist during his wind-up and Rich Harden's has promised that his arm will eventually fly off during one of his pitches. They are waiting until September to do this in order to make the Cubs collapse that much more monumental.

While the Canadians are proud of these accomplishments, their true hero is none other than the Minnesota Twin's Justin Morneau. A descendant of Paul Bunyan's illicit affair with a Canadian Mountee, Justin has become a mythical creature in his destruction of Chicago's spirit. His legend grew last night as he approached the plate in the fifth inning against the White Sox. He left the dugout holding his Home Run derby trophy in one hand and his special bat "Elizabeth II" in the other. "Elizabeth II" is made of a special blend of moose antler and beaver pelt, which Justin thought would be appropriate for the occasion. He allowed Clayton Richard of the Sox to gain a little confidence before breaking his will, and the will of Chicago, with a shot off the baggie (directly hitting the red Dodge Ram located there). Canada had scored another victory as Monreau drove in three.

The people of Minnesota cheered, Canada celebrated by tipping back another mug of Molson Ice, and Chicago slowly wept. Somewhere in the great white north, Buster Brown was smiling.

-Sota

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Span is a Man

What up world,

A couple of things that you should know about Denard Span. He was born in Tampa, Florida on February 27, 1984. He was drafted 20th overall in the 2002 draft by the Twins, after turning down a $2 million predraft deal with the Colorado Rock-tobers. He said at the time, "I have a destiny to fulfill in a great white bubble in the north."

His real name is Keiunta, which means "Destroyer of White Socks", which was later abbreviated to "Destroyer of White Sox". He is 24 years old, and officially entered into manhood in the bottom of the third inning last night.

Lil' Nicky Punto had just gotten on-base by flying from home to first with an infield single. Mark Buehrle looked at the next batter and fear struck him.

Keiunta had arrived to fulfill his destiny. Buehrle could barely function. He thought of his family and friends, and that he was too young to die at the hands of Keiunta. He had to give him something to eat. It was the only way to save himself.

Boom.

It was all over seconds later. Keiunta was rounding the bases. Buehrle promptly wet himself. Lil' Nicky was flying into home.

When Span got back into the dugout, he ate his bat and approached Gardy, "I'm not going back to the minors. I'm a man now."

The legend continues.

-Sota

Monday, July 28, 2008

Weekend Notes

What up world,

I don't have too many thoughts on the Cleveland series this weekend. I was back in Minnesota for a few days, in the wonderful city of Truman, so I didn't get to follow the games too closely. It is good to see that the Twins won the series and that Denard Span is going to soon expand his talents to walking on water and saving dying babies. With the White Sox coming into town this week, I will be able to watch the Twins in live action. There may even be a running diary of the games (I know my three readers will be excited), maybe even two posts in the same day. Ooooooo.

Back to my weekend. My friends and I are active participants in Truman's town festival, which is very creatively called Truman Days. We have traveled to southwest Minnesota since 2000 for the softball tournament, lawn games, parade, street dance, and the destruction of the Truman Legion. Our softball team is comprised of a collection of good athletes that just can't seem to play softball. We do spend most of our time in the field sweating out booze and thinking about the next time we can start drinking again, but still we should be better. I don't think that we won a game in the tournament until our third or fourth year.

Theme for the Raging Monkeys next year?

The major news for me is that after 7 years of playing catcher, I transitioned to right field for the first time. I have no softball experience outside of Truman Days, so this is a major event in my life.

1) First time I had sex,
2) First time I tasted booze,
3) Playing right field in Truman,
4) Graduating college.

Needless to say, when I took the jog out into right I felt a little pee come out. This was swiftly followed by a need to poop when the first ball was hit in my direction. The first ball was a little bloop that I threw to the cutoff man. I was feeling good. One play down and I had done everything correctly. A few innings later another ball was hit that I tracked down and caught. What was happening? I started getting a little bit of confidence. A little swagger in my step. I had visions of climbing the fence and stealing home runs.

As this is happening, a ball is hit in my direction. Runners are on first and second, and I can already see myself gunning someone out at home. I start charging the ball to have it bounce and take a 90 degree hop in the opposite direction. I collapse in a heap and watch the ball roll to the fence. I get up and throw the ball in. Two runners had scored, but in my head I'm thinking, "Not your fault. The ball took a bad hop. You are still the greatest right fielder of all time."

A few innings go by. We are hanging around with this team, but we need a few good defensive plays. The lone lefthanded batter comes up to the plate and I correctly shift. Two outs, runner on first. Our shortstop is yelling at everyone that we just need to get one more out and we can catch this team. The batter cranks the ball directly for me. It is late afternoon by this point, and the ball goes right into the sun. As I'm trying to see where the F the ball went, my confidence vanishes. I start simultaneously pooping and peeing my pants. My mouth has gone completely dry and every sip of booze from the night before wants immediately out of my stomach. As the ball in arcing downward towards me, I catch a glimpse of it in the sun. I'm still good. I'm in a good position, I can still do this.

The ball is half a second away now. Terror strikes as I realize it's going over my head. I make an awkward poke at the ball with my glove and fall over again. The ball rolls to the wall. I get up and throw in, but by this point, everyone has scored. In the park home run. The team went on to score 1,000 more runs in the inning, leading to our loss and the end of the tournament for us.

I have reviewed the play in my head at least 100 times since then. No one cares that we lost. We got to go home after the game and eat cheesy potatoes and start drinking again. We drew marker mustaches on each other and danced in the streets, but I can't forget about it. I'm thinking of signing up for a softball team this fall and exclusively playing right field so that I don't make the same mistake next year.

I drowned my sorrows in booze for the rest of the night which eventually led to getting drunk with the Party Lion and running around a field with horses by myself at a very late hour. In the end, it was a great weekend and worth the 20 hours of car time that it took to get there. Thank you Truman for another great year.

One last thing. JPLMC won our dodgeball game last week. Still undefeated with one week left. Click here for the current standings and schedule:

-Sota

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Big City Distractions

What up world,

What happened? Three games in NYC and the Twins leave with a fine red welt on their asses. Bad defense, bad hitting, bad pitching. Terrible. Sir Sid completely dominated our lineup on Monday. Robinson Cano showed his pelotas to his fellow Dominicans by destroying our pitchers throughout the week. Alexi forgot that there was only one out in the fifth today and didn't turn the double play. Something must be going on. Where was the pitching and offense from this weekend? Looking on the internets, I found that the Twins are 3 and 19 in New York since 2002. They've been swept five times this season, the last three being in New York, Boston, and Chicago. Were the boys getting drunk and going clubbing? I called Lil' Nicky to find out what was going on.

Nick Punto: Hiya!
Me: What's up Nick? What happened this week? You guys looked out of it. Did you try alcohol?
NP: Alcohol? Me? Reddog kept trying to get me to go to his friend's cabaret. Some guy named Rick, but I stayed back at the hotel. I didn't have a drop.
Me: Then what was going on? How do you play so badly in the big cities?
NP: Well we were pretty tired from all of the site seeing. There was this awesome tour that took us all over the place. I saw the Empire State Building, Central Park, Times Square, we even saw where they tape TRL. It was awesome. The Jonas Brothers were there. Soooo cute.
Me: You went site seeing every day?
NP: Yes.
Me: Okay, but you are professional athletes. Surely you could recover in time for the game.
NP: Well, when we were in China Town, Carlos found this Spiderman outfit. When we went back to the hotel, we played superhero in the pool. We used markers to make Alexi the Green Lantern, and Livan said that he was Doctor Octagon. He just kept grabbing us and yelling "Checkup!!". It was weird...
Me: How long were you playing superhero?
NP: All night.
Me: Where was Gardenhire? He should have told you to go to sleep.
NP: He went out with Reddog. They smelled like rum and baby lotion during the game.
Me: Well get it together Nicky. You are headed to Cleveland next. There's nothing to do or see there. And tell Gomez to get rid of the Spiderman outfit.
NP: Okay.

Hopefully he and the rest of the team get it together. More updates to follow. Nick did send some pictures of his week in New York. See below:


-Sota

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Terror from Texas

What up world,

So after a bit of a break the Twins were back in action this weekend. I was busy Friday and Saturday night with various alcohol infused distractions around the city and was not able to keep track of the games. On Sunday, as I was trying to retain the contents of my stomach, I laid in bed watching ESPN gamecast. It seems that the perfect hangover cure was tracking 12 year old Scott Baker throwing strikes through the first six innings. Surely the Twins would be able to scrap out a run or two in order to support his quest for perfection.

Top six, two down and Taylor Teagarden comes up to bat. I'm reviewing TT's stats as the pitching starts. .000 batting average huh? Baker is going to take perfection to the seventh! My stomach has turned from certain pukiness, to butterflies of excitement. I take a quick look at the scoreboard and see that the White Sox are losing to the Royals. All of a sudden the butterflies have turned into small birds. I can see headlines. "Prepubescent Pitcher is Perfect", "White Sox Suck Balls", "Twins Give Sox Perfect Crotch Kick".

And then horror hits. A home run? My nausea returns. Where did the Rangers bring this demon from? Somewhere in the depths of Texas they were slowly cultivating this creature for this exact moment. I did a quick search on mlb.com for TT. Here is the profile that I found:

Full Name: Taylor Hill Teagarden (obviously made up)
Real Full Name: Lucifer Pentagram Beezlebub
Birthplace: 7th ring of hell
Height: 7' 8"
Weight: 864
Hobbies: Killing Twins fan's dreams; eating kittens



He's already been reassigned. His job on earth is complete and he will no go back to torturing souls in hell. Needless to say, the rest of the Twins were so frightened of the creature that they couldn't concentrate for the rest of the game. Span, Buscher, and Mauer were so frightened that they couldn't swing the bat and decided to walk instead. Other than that, the rest of team did everything they could to get out of the game as soon as possible. Bunt outs, double plays, and first pitch fly-outs were the key to getting out alive. Luckily Punto wasn't playing. If he had, Teagarden would have eaten him as soon as he approached the plate.

Damn you Teagarden. Scottie Baker still hasn't stopped crying. He won't even come out of his room and will only talk to Cuddles, his stuffed bear. I had to slip some Ambian into his chocolate milk just so that he could get to sleep.

The bright side to this is that TT is gone for now. I'm hoping that the Twins have faced their fears and won't be frightened of the big bad Yankees this week. More updates to follow.

-Sota

Friday, July 18, 2008

Dodgeball

What up world,

I can't say that I played dodgeball much as a child. It has become an adult onset condition for me. In the past year, I have participated in fall, winter, and summer seasons of the sport. In addition, my roommates and I purchased dodgeball for Wii and have spent many drunken nights throwing electronic dodgeballs at each other. There was a period of time where at least half of our conversations were about dodgeball. We would talk about the game from the previous week, the upcoming week, the various babymaker shots, etc.

Winter league is a smaller group (8 on 8) that is played on a basketball court. Our original team is Kochasaurus, a collection of killers. Small hand, big balls. Fall champions 2007. In winter 2008, we were well on our way to another championship when one of our teammates dislocated his pinkie. It was at a 90 degree angle to the rest of his hand. When it happened, he held his hand up to the rest of the team and asked "Is this bad"? I felt vomit rising in my stomach and wanted to throw up all over his dislocated finger. Although he offered to just rip the finger off and continue to play, he and another member of the team left to go to the hospital. This lead to us playing 8 on 6 for the rest of the game and eventually losing.

I'm hoping that this disappointment will lead to us to the glory that is a summer championship. Summer is a different game, playing 20 on 20 in an outdoor hockey rink on the beach in Chicago. We have joined Kochasaurus with the legendary JPLMC (Joe Perillo Lethal Mustache Coalition) for the past two summers in search of the elusive title. The trophy is a bowl fastened to a keg, similar to the Stanley Cup, that I plan to drink out of, bath in, and make a kick ass jello mold in once we win it.

Anyway, I will continue to provide updates on the league throughout the summer. We are about half way through and undefeated at this point. Here is the JPLMC video for summer 2008. A bit long, but still dominant.



Sota

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Opening Act

What up world,

My first post here is taking place as I'm watching the seemingly endless All-Star Game. I have wasted a ridiculous amount of time with this game, which is pointless, and has featured scrubs for the past 6 innings. I have to say that I've especially enjoyed watching Dan Uggla make more mistakes than an Emmitt Smith analysis, but would enjoy if the AL could hit a ball out of the infield at some point.

As I am a Minnesota fan living in Chicago, the only time that I get to watch baseball that I enjoy is when the White Sox are playing the Twins. When this occurs, I have the pleasure of listening to Hawk and DJ's commentary, who make me want to repeatedly smash my face against the wall. I rarely will watch the game with the sound on and don't pay much attention to the commercials. With our amazing advances in technology including Tivo, tv seasons on dvd, and 1,000 channels of entertainment, I rarely see what advertisers are trying to say.

Tonight, I have had the game on the entire time. There has been no channel surfing. No avoiding the persistent alcohol and car ads. I realized at about hour 3 of the game that the sequence of the commercials that were being shown could have been used in the torture chair of Clockwork Orange. Whoever came up with the phrase "Viva Viagra" should be dragged from his or her home and publicly ridiculed. Maybe we could tie them to a tree and have a bunch of awkward-looking middle-aged white men poking them with their boners. I understand that one day I will be consuming the miracle pills also, but if I have to say that I'm living the Viva Viagra life, I will jump.

The game just concluded and I have to admit that I was a bit excited that Morneau scored the winning run. I'm even more excited that it's over and I can finally go to sleep. Before I go, can we all agree that Bud Selig is a creepy vampire? More to come.