Dolla Bills

What up world,

Holy balls y'alls. An entire season comes to a close and the Twins are not in the playoffs, yet their season is not over. I will be thinking loving thoughts about the entire Tigers lineup today, hoping that their hatred of the White Sox is as strong as mine. I'll even be cheering for Magglio, who I have wanted to punch in the nose for 10+ years. The last thing that I want to do is head to Chicago for a tie-breaking game. My nerves can't take it. I will be peeing my pants a little with each pitch if it happens, culminating in my head exploding if the Sox win.

I went to the game last Wednesday night for game 2 of the Sox series and barely made it out alive. Through a mixture of dome dogs, alcohol, and Joe Nathan's ninth inning, my heart shut down for at least a 20 minute period. I attended the game with the one and only Justin Lorang, sitting in the cheap seats behind the baggie in right field. He and I discussed catching foul balls and home runs, and I informed him that it was one of my life goals to make a catch one of my own. I don't want the ball to bobble around among the fans and eventually end up in my hands either. I want to reach out my bare hand and nab the ball, and then just pose with it, like the statue of liberty. I have dreams about it.

In the fourth inning of Wednesday night's game I was watching Ken Griffey Jr at bat. All of a sudden, with one sweet swing, the ball was headed directly to my section. It was a monster shot that was arcing beautifully toward me. I stood up, reaching out my hand in anticipation of my statuesque pose. My dreams were coming true, and I chose to ignore the fact the score was now going to be 3-2, as I stretched for the ball.

My dreams came crashing down as the ball suddenly dropped off a ledge and landed four rows in front of me. There was a middle aged guy that performed the exact catch that I had been hoping for. He simply reached out and snagged the ball bare handed, while still maintaining a phone conversation with his other hand. I was amazed. I stood there with my mouth open for a couple of seconds. On one hand, I was very impressed with his performance, but on the other hand, my jealousy of what had happened was causing me to want to murder him.

I eventually settled down, drowning my sorrow in multiple dollar dogs and beer. With that night's win, and the following nights amazing comeback, the Twins were in first place. Even with the weekend's terrible games against the Royals, the team enters today a half game up. Less than a week ago, I was writing the season off, and now we are in the drivers seat. All of the pressure is on the Ozzie and his team of assiness.

So let's go Tigers. Take all of your frustration of your horrible season out on this team. Magglio, you're my boy. Sheff, you scare the shit out of me. Cabrera, you are big boned, not fat. Bring it home for your favorite little scrappy team. Redmond told me that he would buy you a round of beers and several prostitutes if you can pull this out.

-Sota