Sunday, August 31, 2008

Throwing to Third

What up world,

As I watched the game last night, surrounded by tissues and sudafed, I saw some glimpses of hope. The Sux had thoroughly been pounded by the Sawx yet again and Keiunta Denard Span was quickly becoming my man-crush. I was all ready to write about being in first place, Saint Francisco's domination, and how I was going to dream about a sexy man from right field. As the ninth inning arrived and Joe Nathan approached the mound, I was ready to start blogging. Who cares about a single? A hit batter? Nathan was just sending a message right? Our ninth inning work horse was going to just keep us on edge for a little bit before slapping the A's across the mouth.

Joe Nathan team picture

Then Ryan Sweeny, knowing that there was no possible way that he could get a hit off of Nathan, tried to lay down a sac bunt. There was no issue here. Get the first out, possibly walk the next guy, and throw your slider for a nice little double play to end the game. Twins are in first and I go to sleep dreaming of Span.

Our closer has different ideas however and decides that he wants to relive his shortstop days. A little toss to Harris at third, a little ball rolling into left, and a little two runs come across the plate to score.

My view of Joe after last night.

What?? Joe, you are our bedrock. If the bullpen can somehow manage to get a game to you, you are always there for us to shut things down. If I can't sleep at night, I always know that a cup of hot chocolate will put me out. You are my hot chocolate Joe. Let's agree that if this is the last time that you do something like this, I will forgive you. Maybe next time you are on the mound, you can throw an extra scoop of chocolate powder in, and shut some bitches down. A marshmallow maybe? Agreed?

Okay we're good. Let's get things together for the rest of the trip.

-Sota

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Hits are Delicious

What up world,

For the last week I have worried myself sick (literally) over the Twins complete assbatiness. My head is now filled with snot and I can hear the fluid in my lungs with every move that I make. Some may say that the cause of this cold was not sleeping last weekend or going out until the very late hours of Thursday night. While this may have been a contributing factor, I'm pretty sure that the fumes from the Twins assbats is directly responsible. Clouds of ass-bat smog has been floating from the west coast directly to Chicago, causing everyone that comes in contact with it to come down with this illness.

Last night I tried to stay awake long enough to see if the assbat epidemic would continue, but failed miserably. The clock hit eight and I was out for the night. I woke up this morning feeling a little better than last night, not knowing exactly why. I checked the scoreboard from last night and had to double check to make sure that ESPN hadn't totaled the Twins hits for the entire week. 20 hits? In one game? That can't be correct.

I went outside of my apartment and saw nothing but blue sky. The ass-bat smog was gone. I'm still feeling a little under the weather, but with a couple more games like this I'll be back to 100%. Please Twins, help me get better. A first place team at the end of the night is just as good as chicken noodle soup.

-Sota

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Seattle!!!!!

What up world,

How can our bats be so assy? I have stayed up late two nights in a row, only to watch two games that we have given away late. Seattle!!! Why?? Why couldn't we follow the White Sox lead and destroy this team? Babies in the Twin Cities are furious with the performance of not only the bullpen, but also the Twins lineup. With Lexi back, and cutting ties with the wolfman, our offense was supposed to pick up a little right? Explain yourselves.


The only positive note that I can find in this series debacle is that Everyday Eddie is back in the mix. Hopefully we will have a little more depth in our bullpen and he will be more of this bellowing beast man,

then this grimmacing beast man for us.

Unfortunately the Twins gave up a pitching prospect for Eddie that was really intriguing to me. His name is Mark Hamburger, is from Minnesota, and was given a contract after having an open tryout with the team. He was doing pretty well in the minors, and may have a chance at the majors eventually. Here is the team photo.

Even more dissapointed than I that the team traded away the Hamburger is Randy Ruiz. Randy loves hamburgers as is evident in his 250 pound frame. When food is brought into the clubhouse, Randy is the first to find any and all hamburgers that are available. Many of his teammates have noticed this hamburger love and have nicknamed him The Hamburglar.

Randy had heard legend of this pitcher made of hamburgers in the minors. He was having dreams of this hamburger pitcher. Playing with him, celebrating victories, and eventually eating him as part of the postseason celebration.

When Randy heard of the news that the pitcher had been traded, he was devastated. Over the course of the day, this devastation turned to anger, which culminated in a booming homerun last night. I'm hoping that the rest of the team will see what the Hamburglar is like when he is angry and continue to steal his hamburgers. Otherwise, we can try and tip Officer Big Mac as to where the Hamburglar hangs out. I don't think that there would be anything that would anger him more.

Seriously boys, get rid of the ass-bats and salvage something out of this series.

-Sota

Monday, August 25, 2008

Ginger Attack

What up world,

I was out of the loop for most of the weekend, but managed to follow the games through various cellular devices. I was fairly excited after Thursday and Friday's games. The Twins were back in first, winning against a good team. The White Sux were not playing particularly well against another good team. I decided to have a few scotchs to celebrate on Friday night, which lead to a bit of a hangover on Saturday for myself and for the Twins. After Saturday night's game, I was still alright. I was in the midst of a wedding reception, I had drunk off my hangover, and the Twins were still in first with the Chicago loss. Waking up on Sunday I had visions of watching the Twins winning the four game series while I contemplated throwing up for most of the afternoon.

Things were going exactly according to plan. The Twins were up for most of the game, the Sox were losing, and my stomach was rejecting almost everything that I ate. All of a sudden, things went completely craptastic with another bullpen meltdown, Vlad impaling, and AJ being his utmost bitchfull. At the end of the day, here were the standings.

White Sox: 74-55
Twins: 74-56
Games Back: 1/2
Number of times I threw up: 2

This got me to thinking, why can't the Twins get into first and just stay there? Can they ever build a bigger lead than a 1/2 game on the White Sox? Why do the Twins keep teasing us with spectacular play one day and descend into complete assiness the next? I dug in and did some research to answer some of these questions. Since August 12th, the Twins have never been more than a game ahead or behind the White Sox. They have played with our emotions, testing the very fiber of our soul. What happened on August 12th that would cause the Twins to do this? What could it be?

Oh my God. There is a ginger that has embedded itself into the Twin's organization. I thought that we had rid the Twins of this creature years ago. On August 12th, the Twins signed this ginger to a minor league contract, in hope that he will be able to provide some hitting against left-handed pitchers. This couldn't be farther from the truth. For those that are unaware of the danger that gingers present, here is a brief presentation by a well respected gingerologist.

Gingers require souls to compensate them for the lack of their own. Obviously this ginger (who we will refer to as Bobby Kielty) has begun to work on the souls of the Twins bullpen. He knows that there is nothing worse than losing in the late innings of a game. If he can successfully steal the souls of the bullpen, he knows that the souls of the Twin's batting order and pitching lineup will soon follow.

He is setting up the end of the season perfectly. I can already envision the White Sox coming to town for the final series of the year. All the Twins will have to do is win the series and they will advance to the postseason. We will have brought Kielty up from the minors to pinch hit against Buehrle or Danks or even Ramirez. Bases will be loaded and the ginger approaches the plate. After several fouls, he will hit into a double play and the end the Twins' chances to advance, thus stealing the souls of the entire organization as well as all of its fans.

He will be rich in souls, causing even more freckles and a further reddening of his hair. I'm not sure that the Twins will be able to recover from this. Please Bill Smith, don't let this happen. Follow the Cubs lead in the expulsion of redheads. They cut Matt "Captain Ginger" Murton early in the season, and look what has happened since then. The Cubs are the best team in the National League and are completely gingervitus free.

As a warning the following images may not be suitable for young children. Gingers have been known to haunt dreams.


-Sota

Thursday, August 21, 2008

The Republicans are Coming!!!

What up world,

Fear has struck the Twin Cities as reports of khaki-wearing middle-aged men, elderly curmudgeons with fists full of money, and jewelry laden housewives are descending upon the state. Fearing for their lives, the Twins are headed on the road for a 14 game stint. We need these games boys. Get your road game together.

I have to head out of town for a roomie wedding this weekend, so the posts are going to be on hold until Monday.

Go Twins

-Sota

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Photo Hunt

What up world,

Minnesota Twins pitcher Kevin Slowey has one of the most appropriate surnames in baseball. He doesn't necessarily throw the baseball fast, although his fastball does have considerably more speed than my 60 mph lob-ball. He picks locations, nibbles corners and such. He has said that while he was moving up through the Twins organization that he admired the way that former Twin Brad "Hunk of Burning Man-Love" Radke threw the ball. Many writers have said that watching Slowey throw is very similar to watching Bradke a couple of years ago.

Slowey sat down 12 Athletics last night, so I thought that in his honor, we would play a little Photo/Video Hunt with our man. For those of you that have not played Photohunt, let me explain the rules. Typically, one would be at a bar, heavily inebriated, while playing the game. Two photos are shown side-by-side, with five differences between the pictures. You have to pick out the differences to advance to the next picture.

Due to some technological constraints, we won't be able to play the game in the same way here. But, we will do what we can. The first photos are below. Can you spot the differences?

If you said that the person on the left was Kevin Slowey, and Bradke was on the right, you are correct. Congratulations. Also, if you said that there is a black border around the photo on the right, you get bonus points.

Here's the next round.

This one is a little tougher. If you said that the guy on the left is Sean Gallagher, pitcher for the Oakland Athletics (he was traded from the Cubs this season), and that the guy on the right is Gallagher, famous comedian, then you are correct. Gallagher, the pitcher, was torched by the Twins last night for 10 runs. Gallagher, the comedian, probably spent last night crying while eating broken pieces of smashed watermelon. Bonus points for noticing that Sean's goatee was flipped upside down and put on Gallagher's upper lip.

For the next round, we are going to change things up a bit. This is a video hunt, with three different videos. Can you spot the differences between the three?



If you said that the first video was an intimidating ground hog, that the second was a cat that was intimidating, and that the third was a pitcher that intimidated the Athletics last night, then you are correct. Bonus points for not criticizing my video editing capabilities.

Here's the fourth round. This is the trickiest of all of them, because we are comparing a picture to a video. See if you can figure this one out.



If you said that the picture is of the Oakland Athletics prior to last nights game, and that the video was the Oakland Athletics as they were facing an intimidating Kevin Slowey last night, then you are correct. Bonus points for being a little frightened by the lemur in the video. It is the size of a house cat, but man, it gives me chills every time I see it. Anyway, that was a tough round of Photohunt, and you passed with flying colors. Very impressive.

The Twins play Oakland this afternoon. Chicago is playing Seattle this afternoon as well. Saint Francisco is pitching, so let's all pray and hope for the best. Let's get back to being in first Twins.

-Sota

Monday, August 18, 2008

Purple Jesus

What up world,

I'm watching the Twins play on-line right now, and too disgusted with the assiness of the bats to make any comment. 10 hits and 2 runs? Gross. The Sux are going boom all over the Mariners also, so it looks like our brief ride at top is coming to a close. Do the Sux ever score other than home runs? Ughh.

Instead of discussing these topics, I would like to talk to you about my fantasies. It's time to get real up close and personal. I have this recurring dream involving Jesus, Sharpie markers, an airplane, and monkeys. It's a complicated dream, but the first portion came to fruition on Sunday night. With the number two pick in my fantasy football draft I selected my boy, Purple Jesus. I'm hoping that he will be the savior of my miserable fantasy football team this year and I can finally fulfill my quest of winning the league.


I have been the commissioner of the league for four years and the closest that I've come to winning has been a third place finish. Other years I haven't even made the playoffs, and unless Purple Jesus brings God's wrath upon every team the Vikings face this year (I would suggest fire and brimstone), I may be headed for a very similar finish. I don't feel like the poor showings can be attributed to a lack of trying either. I put a ridiculous amount of time into research each year. A ridiculous amount of time into an activity that is completely based in fantasy.

I'm not saying that fantasy football isn't fun. It makes me far more entertained on Sundays, and it provides ample opportunity to talk trash to your friends. Why would I be interested in the Colts and Steelers game? There is no impact on the Vikings, but I do have Peyton Manning and the Steelers defense, so I'm locked to the television and drooling over every touchdown pass and fumble recovery for three hours. Under normal circumstances, why would I tell my friend that I'm going to throw monkey feces at Tony Romo? Fantasy football provides a perfect format for this type of discussion.

So Purple Jesus, put the healing touch to your quarterback's knee, demand that he throws multiple swing passes to you, request clean hand-offs, and to never, ever look to someone else in the red zone. Tell Childress that it's God's will for you to have 2,000 yards rushing, with something like 60 combined touchdowns. That should do nicely.

The Vikings and my fantasy team are your sheep Purple Jesus. Shepard us to the postseason, and if you feel like releasing locusts on the Packers along the way, that would be welcomed.

-Sota

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Champions

What up world,

As I write this, the Twins are giving the game away against Seattle. 6 runs in the 6th? Really? 6 runs? Scottie Baker obviously didn't drink his full glass of milk this morning, and the Twins bullpen makes me want to kill bunnies and small children. I do enjoy late inning comebacks, so I'm hoping that's what the team has in order for this afternoon.

Last night, one of the big three off-season deserters returned to the Dome, with promises of groundballs and mound visits from God. That's right, The Jackal was back. He lasted three and a third, running into an angry grizzly bear, a little superhero, and an awfully mousy shortstop along the way.

In addition, the Saint was throwing God's fury at the heathenish Mariner's lineup. He pitched 7 innings of heavenly work, turned the dugout Gatorade to wine, and helped a crippled man walk again. After the game, the Saint said that he was inspired to pitch so well after watching the JPLMC dodgeball team's championship run on Thursday night.

Yes, you did read that correctly. After four summers of coming close, the Joe Perillo Lethal Mustache Coallition is the champion of summer league dodgeball. An undefeated season, a dominant playoff run, a keg/cup trophy, a life-long dream realized. It feels so much better after the bitter defeat that we suffered last summer, and the post-season party definitely reflected that. The winner each week during the regular season receives $50 in coupons to a bar (Duffy's) that sponsors the league. We accumulated $500 of these Duffy Dollars throughout the season and put them to good use on Thursday night. By the end of the evening we had successfully tagged every member of the team, various bar patrons, our server, our dodgeball, and the cashier at a late-night pizza place with lethal mustaches.

I have to thank JPLMC and Kochasaurus for providing endless amounts of smashing throughout the last couple of years in Chicago. It feels great to be a champion. I plan on having a sit down with the entire Twins roster to explain how good it feels to be in first place. Hopefully then they won't continue to have this see-saw battle with the Sux for the next two months.

As I write this, Captain Busch just hit a walk-off sac fly. Not exactly the walk-off that I was hoping for, but exciting nontheless. Go Twins.

JPLMC fo' life.

-Sota

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

LNP to the Rescue

What up world,

The Twins did some good work today, taking down the Evil Empire in the series. Unfortunately we couldn't come through in the clutch last night, but I'm willing to forgive them for this transgression. Even though we lost, it wasn't as terrible as the last time that we played the Yankees. I don't even want to think about it again. It gives me the shivers.

I received an email from a reader this week, questioning the use of Lil' Nicky Punto in the current lineup. This reader (Justin Lorang) threw a bunch of statistics at me, and although he is freakishly tall, he did make some valid points. However, what the statistics fail to show is the impact that LNP has on the other members of the Twins team.

One of the Statistician leaders, Justin Lorang.

Those readers that had the joy of experiencing Batgirl when she was still around are fully aware of the exploits of LNP. Headlong dives into first, spectacular defense, and his propensity for ass-batingness only tell half the story. LNP is the Captain America of the Twins (he's not really Captain America. Buscher stole that costume. I'm just using it in the metaphorical sense). He means so much more to the Twins than a low batting average and propensity for hitting into double plays.

Photo produced by Bat-Girl.com

Lil' Nicky Punto was born in San Diego, a planet 1.5 million light years away from Earth, which coincidentally shares the same name as a city in California. The people of planet San Diego are half the size as earthlings. We would put them in the gymnast height category here on Earth. Lil' Nicky Punto was actually named Gigantor on his home planet, and was regarded as a great leader among his peers.

A few years ago, the people of San Diego were threatened by the evil Statisticians. They arrived on San Diego spewing OBP lasers and SLG bombs, killing every tiny member of the planet. Thankfully, LNP evaded the Statisticians and escaped to Earth, arriving in Philadelphia in 2001.

In 2004, there were threats in Philly that the Statisticians had discovered his whereabouts again. He quickly moved onto Minneapolis and found a place with the Twins. Over the years he has discovered and encouraged the super talents of his teammates. When concentrating on his teammates super skills, his ass-batiness seems to emerge more, making him susceptible to discovery by the evil Statisticians. LNP knows however, that the better his super teammates perform, the less attention is paid to the assiness of his bat.

While hanging out in the clubhouse, I overheard LNP giving his superfriends a little pep talk after last nights game.

LNP: "Okay superfriends. Tough loss guys. Flash and Span-man, I liked your hits out there."
Carlos Gomez: "Thanks LNP."
Denard Span: "Yeah, thanks."
LNP: "But, you also struck out twice. When facing the Statisticians, those kind of numbers are not going to help you."
CG: "But I stole a base..."
LNP: "I know, but you're Flash. You should be stealing every base out there."
CG: "Okay."
LNP: "Captain Busch, you had zero hits. Zero, but you did have an RBI. Statisticians love that crap."
Brian Buscher: "Thanks LNP."
LNP: "Green Lexi. I know that your thumb is hurting, but we need you back. My ass-batiness is showing. Put on your power ring and lets get going."
Alexi Casilla: "Gotcha LNP."
LNP: "We're going to keep the Wolfman caged up for now. He's just too angry to release onto the field, even against the Yankees."
Mike Lamb: (Growling sounds)

LNP: "Tomorrow needs to be a win. Justin Lorang, leader of the evil Statisticians, is close to finding me. He has begun to alert others. If we win, he may forget about my presence on the team and turn his focus onto Wii tanks. Let's go out there and get a win!"
All: "Hooray!"

In the midst of the pep talk, Reddog peeked around the corner.

Mike Redmond: "What's all the commotion about?"
LNP: "Just getting my superfriends ready for tomorrow, Reddog."
MR: "Oh, well, I'm having a 'superfriends' party over here. Do you guys want to join?"


Not wanting to interfere (or see) Reddog's party, I decided to exit the clubhouse as quickly as possible. Let us all give a quick thanks to Lil' Nicky Punto and hope that he continues to evade capture from the Evil Statisticians.

-Sota

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

It's Time for the Perkolator

What up world,

The Perkolator had an amazing day. He boarded the Twin's secret jet in the City of Kansas's on Sunday in order to witness the birth of his first child. Sunday evening, future percolator, Lyla Cynthia Perkins was born. Glen told me that the raw emotions he felt were like nothing he had ever experienced in his life before. He was now the protector of this human life, and she was not going to date any boys until she was at least 21. If he caught some boy creeping into his daughters room he was going to throw a 95 mph heater at his face.

Prior to the game yesterday, The Perk was talking with some of the visiting Yankees. He was showing them pictures of his newborn and beaming like any new father should. A-Rod and Jeter both looked at the pictures, and commented that they thought she was just beautiful. Slightly disturbed by this The Perk moved over to new Yanks, Xavier Nady and Richie Sexson. Upon seeing the pictures, Nady said, "Oh she is so cute, I just want to hold her." Sexson commented, "You should bring her to the next game. I want to play a little peek-a-boo with her. Sexson style."

The Perk quickly grabbed the pictures. His anger had risen to substantial levels at this point. He moved over to former teammate, Sir Sid Ponson. Clearly smelling of alcohol, Sir Sid looked at the pictures and said, "God I'd love to make out with that. Maybe a few drinks on the beach would get her in the mood."

The Perkolator was furious. This was his daughter, who is not to date any boys until she's at least 21. "She was less than 24 hours old" he thought, "and the entire New York Yankees team wants to get into her diapers."

It was time to show these pervs who the father of this child really was, Perkolater style. The children of the Twin Cities rejoiced. It was time for the Perkolator.

Inning by inning The Perk showed the Yanks to their seats. Sexson, sit down. You too Christian and Cano. A-Rod, how about a double play? He pitched 8 innings of fatherly work, glaring at the Yankee dugout after each inning.

After the eighth, Joseph Nathan approached him. Joe is a father of a young daughter as well. He had heard what the Yankees said prior to the game and was furious. The Perk saw his anger and offered the ninth inning to him. Joe stalked out to the mound, twitchy as ever. 17 pitches later, there were three more Yanks that were sent back to their seats.

Still upset after the game, Nathan decided to donate $500,000 to his alma mater for a new baseball field. It will be called, "Touch My Daughter and Die Field"

One more note. Adam Everett decided to stop being so mousy last night and went long on Sir Sid. With the Perkolator percolating, Nathan being extra twitchy, Everett's long shot, and the White Sox running for the lives away from Beckett, the Twins are back in first. Holla

-Sota

Monday, August 11, 2008

The Olympics are Awesome

What up world,

Quick weekend recap for the Twinks. I thought that a sweep was in the works for sure. I was hungover Sunday once again, and decided that there would be nothing better than the boys bringing out the brooms in the City of Kansas's. Things looked great through 7, but once again our bullpen decided to increase their reputation for road suckness. And I'm not talking road head. Even with the poor pitching, I still thought we might pull it out, until the Rat decided to go Mr. Fumbles on us. Throw to first Everett. Don't make Scottie Baker cry again.


In addition to keeping an eye on the Twins progress throughout the weekend, I dedicated a bit of time to watching the Olympics. I love the Olympics. Winter, summer, I don't care. There are certain sports that I enjoy watching over others, but if there is competition on tv, I'm going to be glued to it. I even watched synchronized diving for a bit yesterday. Synchronized diving? Hell yes.

I didn't get a chance to watch all of the opening ceremonies, but from the portion that I caught, it was absolutely amazing. Human cube operations. Giant doves made of people with Christmas lights on. Fireworks. Unbelievable. The only issue that I had was that in the middle of the dove was a Chinese piano player who was described as a "Superstar" in China. In the US, would we ever have a piano player that was a superstar? Sure there is Billy Joel and Elton John among others, but I think they are more popular for their songs and their flowing sequined gowns than for their piano playing. I found this on the piano player, Lang Lang:



He scares me. I'm straight up frightened of his music that can apparently throw punches and fireballs. Despite Lang Lang, my conclusion on the opening ceremonies: awesome.

So far I've watched a little of everything, but I've mainly focused on swimming. I watched a little gymnastics as well, but mainly because I'm amazed at how tiny they are. The star of the women's team, Shawn Johnson, is 4'9". The tallest member of the team in 5'3". The Chinese team's average size is 4'9" and 77 pounds. Really? I think that gymnasts should have a special size category between dwarfs and regular sized people.

I floundered around a pool for a while in high school, so I love watching swimming events and comparing their times to mine. If I swam one length of the pool, I might be able to beat some members of the team. Provided, of course, that they swim two lengths while wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

Last night I was watching the prime time coverage of the swimming events. I was hungover and wanting to sleep. I hadn't showered, and my hair still smelled of the beer that had been dumped on me from the night before. I felt terrible, but I was excited about the 4X100 relay. I was forcing myself to stay awake for it. After watching a lot of races in high school, world championships, Olympic trials, and others, I thought that the French were going to win for sure. They were ahead by half a body length on the final leg. No way that this could happen.

As they were coming into the last half length and Jason Lezak went Aquaman on France, I started yelling at the tv. Why was I swearing at the screen while sitting in Chicago? The only people that could hear me were my sleeping roommates and the baby sleeping in the apartment next to me. Lezak, who was under water on the other side of the world, couldn't have heard my encouraging stream of cuss words. It doesn't matter. I'm convinced that my cheering pushed him into the wall.

If you thought Michael Phelps reaction was a bit extreme (maybe a little frightening), it was nothing compared to mine. I tripped and fell to my bedroom floor when I jumped out of my desk chair. There were various items of my room that were flying everywhere. I threw a dodgeball against my wall. Why would I do that? I'm not entirely sure. It was a brief moment of insanity, but I'm still smiling about the results. I can't wait for the rest of the Games.

Go USA.

-Sota

Friday, August 8, 2008

Ligaments Shmigaments

What up world,

While perusing the Star Trib today, I saw that LEN3 has posted an update on my boy Lexi. He said that the Twins can expect to have him back at some point this season after an encouraging checkup. For those who don't know, Lexi tore a ligament in his thumb a few weeks ago. His finger injury is one of a few that the team is experiencing right now. Matt Tolbert, a promising rookie, tore ligaments in his thumb as well earlier this season. Michael Cuddles Cuddyer strained a tendon on his left index finger at the end of June.

I started to wonder how all of these finger injuries could occur during one season. Some might say it's from stealing bases, or fielding ground balls, or even from getting hit by pitches, but for some reason I don't think that's the case. After doing a bit of investigative work, I found that there was something else going on entirely.

Every baseball team has players that fill certain roles. There are leadoff guys that can steal, take pitches, and run. There are cleanup players that can hit for power and average. There are clubhouse managers, bat-boys, base coaches, etc. Every team has them. But not every team has their very own magician.

The Twins are lucky. For years, our very own Cuddles has wowed his teammates and the media with magic tricks that cause you to question your own existence. Card tricks, sleight of hand, rabbits, locks, disappearing buildings, you name it. Cuddles does it all.



In this past offseason, there were rumors that Cuddles was developing a trick so dangerous, so mind boggling that he was too nervous to show it to any other member of the team. In this trick, Cuddles would use one hand to remove the thumb of his other hand. He contacted us here at Sota to give us an exclusive video of the event.



Amazing. Cuddles showed the rest of the team at the end of spring training to get them ready for a "magical" season. Some of the team was frightened by the exhibition and began calling Cuddles a witch. This is, of course, a ridiculous claim. He is a man which would clearly make him a warlock.


Cuddles business card

Other teammates were impressed and wanted to learn the warlock's secrets. Matt Tolbert was so amazed by the trick that he immediately tried to remove his own thumb, only to hurt himself in the process. Pat Neshek tried to yank out his thumb as hard as possible, but ended up popping a ligament in his elbow. Cuddles warned the rest of the team that it was extremely dangerous to attempt the trick unless under his direct supervision.

The most interested of anyone was Alexi. He went to Cuddles, wanting to learn his secrets. Everyday after games Alexi and Cuddles would enter into the deep caverns of the Metrodome to practice the trick. During these lessons, Cuddles began developing his next trick, where he would remove other fingers from his hand. Late one night, after Lexi had gone home, Cuddles attempted his new trick. He almost succeeded, but at the last second he erred in his attempt and pulled his index finger out of socket. He ran to the field looking for help.

The carnage of Cuddles latest trick

When Lexi heard the news, he was devastated. He was so close to mastering the art of thumb removal, but now his teacher was gone. Trying to prove that he belonged and that he didn't need Cuddles to be a magician, Lexi attempted the trick. Following in Tolbert footsteps, Lexi was unsuccessful and tore ligaments of his own.

When Gardy learned of the news, he immediately banned all magic tricks from the locker room. There was no room for any more injuries to the Twins infield. The only trick that Gardy still allows is when Redmond's clothes magically disappear while he takes BP. Mainly because Gardy finds this hilarious. And so do I.

-Sota

Thursday, August 7, 2008

The Emerald City

What up world,

I received an email from my older sister yesterday, criticizing my last post. She lives in Seattle, and objected to my use of the phrase, "miserable Seattle". I did not mean for the adjective "miserable" to be used in describing the city itself, but rather the season that the Mariners are having. They have the worst record in the American League and trail the Angels by 27 games in their division. 27 games? Awful. Yet they were still able to take two from my Twins this week in a series of gross defensive games.
There are so many other words that I would use to describe Seattle other than miserable. Beautiful, rainy, cold, unique, caffeinated, etc. I have actually been to Seattle several times throughout my life and have always enjoyed my experience there. But, in an effort to make it up to my sister and the city, I decided to learn a little bit more about the Jewel of the Northwest.

Seattle has been inhabited for over 4,000 years. The first European settlers, the Denny Party, arrived in 1851 at Alki point and the city has been partying ever since. The Denny Party is also commonly credited for starting the Denny's restaurant chain on the west coast in the 1950's. Denny's restaurants are known for always being open and for their Grand Slam breakfasts. Raul Ibanez of the Mariners dined at a Denny's at 4 am on Monday morning, which led to a grand slam of his own Monday night as part of his ridiculous 6 RBI 7th inning. Damn you Denny Party.

Seattle's nickname is "The Emerald City". This moniker was given to the city through a contest in the mid 1980's. Prior to that, Seattle was known as "The Queen City", describing the large number of drag queens that reside there. There are several informal nicknames that are used for Seattle as well. These include "Gateway to Alaska", "Rain City", "Coffee Town", and "Jet City". The latter of these refers to the migration of a gang (The Jets) from west-side New York City to Seattle after feuding with a rival gang got out of control in the late 1950's.

Seattle is responsible for the "grunge" rock movement of the 1990's. The city gave us wonderful music from Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, Mudhoney, Temple of the Dog, The Melvins among others. This caused my personal transformation from side-part, heavy hair-spraying, silk-shirt, and tight-roll jeans to butt cut, long hair, flannels, and ripped jeans. F the system man! The popularity of the music led to serious over-exposure and eventual grunge fallout in the late 1990's and early 2000's. So while grunge gave us wonderful music for a while, it also led to 3 Doors Down, Creed, and Nickleback. Ughhhhhh, disgusting.

The city is home to many brands the are recognized worldwide, including Starbucks and Microsoft. According to a US Census Bureau study in 2004, Seattle is the most educated city in America, with 48.8 percent of people 25 years and older having a bachelor degree. It was the most literate city in the US for 2005 and 2006. However, things started looking a bit worse in 2007 when it placed second. The most literate city of that year? Minneapolis biatches. Suck it Seattle.

-Sota

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Sadness

What up world,

I was feeling extra good about the start of this week. The Twins were in first place, the White Sox were feuding and AJ got punched in the face again, and we were headed to miserable Seattle to face off against one of the worst teams in the majors. Through 6 innings, everything was going as planned. Lil' Nicky Punto ate an extra bowl of Corn Pops and went deep. Everyone in the lineup was getting on base, hitting sac flys, and being generally awesome. According to urban dictionary, percolating means:

1. To cause to filter gradually through a porous substance
2. To get the party started.
As in, "Let's hurry up and get to the club so we can get it percolating."

Glen Perkins was definitely percolating through 6 innings. I was watching on-line, eating ice cream, and looking forward to a series sweep. Maybe I was percolating a little myself.

Then terror struck. Who gives up 10 runs in an inning? 10 runs? Really? Matt Guerrrrrrrier needs a hug, and so do I. It turned from joy to sadness in one inning. I was crushed. Usually when something really sad happens to me, I try to combat the moment with humor. If I'm watching a sad movie, I will try and say something stupid to prevent myself from crying. I don't think that I've cried during a movie since Turner and Hooch using this technique. Turner and Hooch is the saddest movie on record. There is no debate.

Last night I turned to the magic of YouTube to combat the sadness that I felt. I was so sad that I turned to Dmitri Martin, who is also known as the funniest man on the internet tubes. If you too are feeling down while reading this, please turn to the magic below.

Monday, August 4, 2008

Saint Francisco

What up world,

Recently, with Livan the Hutt's struggles on the mound, Scottie Baker began to have some concerns. Were the Twin's going to make him the number 1 starter in the rotation if Livan left? Wasn't he just too young to lead this staff? He was just one year removed from Little League for God's sake.

Scottie gets ready for bed every night in the same way. He has a glass of milk and a cookie (only if he's completed all of his chores), brushes his teeth, puts on his pj's, and says a prayer. When I went to tuck Scottie in on Saturday night, I accidentally overheard this:

"Saint Francisco, it's me Scottie. I've got a favor to ask. Can you come back to the Twins? I just don't think that I can be the number 1 starter on the team. What happens if we go to the playoffs? If I have to go up against Lackey or Joba or (oh god) Beckett I might pee myself. We need you. I need you. Come back to us and give us some gassy fastballs and nasty sliders. Hee hee hee. Gassy is a funny word. Also, please bless my parents and my stupid sister Sarah."

I was interested to see what would happen. Would Saint Francisco heed the prayers of young Scottie Baker? Would we see the Saint of 2006 who threw fire and converted heathens into believers? Or would we see the impostor of earlier this season who caused me to question my faith.

Sure enough, Sunday afternoon in Minneapolis, the clouds parted. The roof of the Dome was torn apart revealing Saint Francisco in all of his glory. Trumpets blared. The Indians shook in fear. Far away in Kansas City, Ozzie Guillen started speaking in tongues. Six innings of solid Saintly work later, the Twins were back in first place.


In his secret bat cave, Bill Smith smiled. No trades were needed, because the Saint was back and ready to lead his followers into the postseason promised land.

-Sota

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Gardy and the Bear

What up world,

I have been known to play video games here and there over the years. I usually get sucked into sports games. Especially those that track your electronic player's progression and statistics like Madden or NCAA Football. The time waster of choice right now is MLB 2K7. There is a feature in the game where you can bring the manager out to argue calls. If you press the A button fast enough, you can increase the moral of the team, causing them to play better for one inning. The longer that you argue, the higher the chance is that you will be ejected.

Thursday night, Keiunta had just been hit by the pitch while attempting to bunt. The third base umpire called it a strike, rather than allowing him to move to first. Gardenhire saw this and was pressing the A button like a hummingbird on crack as he approached the field. He argued with the ump for a few minutes resulting in a couple bruised egos, a dirtied hat, and team morale going through the roof. Before leaving the field (and giving the sign to the fans to start throwing things), Gardenhire warned Ump Marty Foster, "I'm going to have to bring The Bear out."

"Release the Bear!"

Gardenhire went back into the depths of the Metrodome and made a call for The Bear. For years Gardy had been tormenting The Bear, poking it, teasing it, making it so hungry for blood that he had already eaten two bat boys. Occasionally Gardy would let The Bear have an at-bat or two, but never against lefties, and only when there wasn't an overpaid veteran in the dugout.

Some things to know about The Bear. He is originally from Belle Fourche, South Dakota. He developed his left handed swing by smacking fish that he caught against rocks and trees. His knees have deteriorated over the years from standing on his hind legs, but they are slowly getting better now that he isn't playing in the field as much.

The crowd erupted when The Bear was released and started to lumber towards the plate. Chants of "Free Kubel" and "I've got a fever" arose from every part of the Dome. The Bear was hungry at this point and sighted a Subway Sandwich sign in the right field stands. With a mighty roar, The Bear launched a shot that directly hit the sign, and gave the Twins the eventually winning run. As he rounded the bases, saliva flying from his mouth, The Bear sighted a doughy, bloated piece of meat behind home plate named AJ. However, before he got the chance to take a bite of him, he was quickly ushered back into his cage.

Gardy and Bill Smith met in the secret bat-cave of the Dome later on in the night. Gardy told Bill, "The Bear is ready. Get rid of Monroe"
Smith replied, "He's gone. And the Hutt is going to follow him out also."
Gardy: "The Hutt is gone? Does that mean...."
Smith: "Saint Francisco is on his way..."

-Sota