So it wasn't the greatest of weekends for the team. After a promising start on Friday night, the ass-bats returning in force on Saturday and Sunday. One run through 18 innings? I'm no expert, but I don't think those are great numbers. Saint Francisco was a little shaky on Saturday, and the bullpen returned to their poopy ways yesterday. The Bitch Sox continued their bitchiness from last season.
However, not all is lost. There are many more battles to come, and help is on its way. Lil Scottie Baker continued his adorable comeback through the minors and there were some initial reports of Mr. Minnesota running in a pool in Florida. Tweens flocked to poolsides throughout the Citrus State in hopes of catching a glimpse of his swollen sacroiliac.
In addition, in the Twins' win on Friday night, something happened that dramatically eased my fears. In the top of the second, Twins' third baseman Joe Crede, crushed a ball into the leftfield bullpen and started rounding the bases. For the first time in his short Twins career, Joe was scoring a run against the team that he had grown up with. In my mind, it was finally official. Crede was a Twin.
Prior to the start of the series, I was getting more and more nervous about his return to the Cell. I had visions of him defecting back to the southside, bringing all of the Twins' secrets with him. By the first pitch, I had convinced myself that he was truly a double agent and was meeting with Ozzie during warmups. He was like a Cuban in reverse, and Ozzie was his Castro. Damn you evil Ozzie, and all of your conniving ways.
But then the possible double agent went out and hit yard. Maybe he met with the Oz and the rest of the team, and didn't like what he saw. A second baseman that looked like Jack from Nightmare Before Christmas.
AJ without his head.
A masturbating left fielder
Maybe Jim Thome, Paul Konerko, and Jermaine Dye looked another year older and a little more crusty. Crede had returned to Cuba to find things much worse than when he left. He saw the promise of playing with a group of scrappy go-getters, and decided to make his decision in the most dramatic way possible.
They may have a bronzed statue dedicated to you, Joe, but can they provide the same loving embrace that we can? You've made the right move. There's nothing but dollar dogs and naked Redmonds in your future.
So, on behalf of Mark, Brent, Dad, and the rest of the readers, I would like to say, "Welcome to the Twins, Joe!"
-Sota
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