Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Trauma at its Finest

What up world,

Throughout my life, I've experience my fair share of sporting heartache. As I've noted previously, the teams that I choose to cheer for are generally not the favorites to win championships or titles on a year to year basis. It would be so much easier to cheer for the Yankees or Lakers or Patriots, but then I would have to live my life without a soul. Instead, I continue to hope and pray that my sporting heroes will one day deliver success to its fans.

Other than a couple bright spots (87 and 91), I've never cheered for a champion. Most of my team's seasons end in heartbreaking fashion, many times a third or half way through the regular schedule. There are a few, however, that have been more devastating than others.

In this blog posting, I will list the five most disappointing losses that I've experienced in my life. While deciding on the complex rating system that determined the ranking for each of these moments, I found that there was an overwhelming factor that made certain events hurt worse than others. It was this: The amount of effort and attention that I put into each of these selected teams was directly linked to the amount of pain that I experienced. Essentially, the more I cared the more it hurt.

Without further ado (in reverse order), the five worst sporting moments of my life.

5. 1999 Wisconsin Badgers: In my first semester at Madison, I had quickly become fully immersed into the crazy world of college football. Over the first couple weeks of the season, I had learned all of the cheers, perfected my pregame drinking ritual, started envisioning the Badgers in the Rose Bowl, and above all else, learned to hate the Maize and Blue of the Michigan Wolverines.

Although Michigan doesn't realize it, Wisconsin fans consider the Wolverines to be our biggest rival. Not the Gophers, or even Ohio State. Over the years, they have routinely crushed our rose-colored hopes and dreams, and for that, we generally despise them. Our one loss in the previous season (1998) had been to Michigan. 1997 also. We didn't lose to them in 96, only because we never played them.

The Badgers had already lost to Cincinnati by the time the Michigan game rolled around, making a victory all that more important. We were all feeling confident. With Ron Dayne continuing to roll, our collection of "Ann Arbor is a Whore" t-shirts, and the pre-game consumption of enough alcohol to get a small African nation drunk, we didn't think that we were going to lose.



Tom Brady and the rest of the Wolverines had other ideas however. Michigan led by six late in the game, and their defense had held Dayne to negative yards in the second half, but we still had a chance to win. We were driving under the control of a young replacement quarterback named Brooks Bollenger. There was a long pass into the corner of the endzone to a wide open Chris Chambers. It was a sure touchdown. We were going to take the lead, and I began celebrating, jumping up and down on the aluminum seats, yelling like the drunken fool that I was.

Unfortunately, I was premature with my celebration. The wide open Chambers lost the ball in the late afternoon sun, letting it pass through his hands and effectively losing the game over the infuriating Wolverines.

Although the Badgers eventually headed to the Rose Bowl later in the season, at the time, the loss to our perceived rivals caused it to be a miserable weekend.

Pain Scale: High

4. 2009 USA Soccer: As I noted in a posting from last week, I love watching the US soccer team, especially on the world stage. The World Cup completely turns my life around. I will go without sleep, disappear from human contact, and work myself into a general tizzy with every game that they play. Throughout the past week, I watched every one of the US games at the Confederation's Cup, beginning with general sadness at the beginning and culminating in an overabundance of joy with Sunday's arrival.



I met with a few friends at a bar in San Diego to take in the upcoming Miracle on Grass. I had attempted to temper my expectations with each victory that the US attained throughout the tournament. After the Egypt game, I kept telling myself that they didn't stand a chance against Spain. After Spain, I continued to remind myself that they had been soundly beaten in the qualifying round at the hands (and feet) of Brazil. I continued to tell myself, "Don't get too excited. You'll only set yourself up for disappointment."

I had continued with this gameplan until the first goal that the US scored. At the time, I was a couple of beers deep and my high school-girl alcohol tolerance caused me to fully feel their effect. I was light headed and joyous, yet I still attempted to maintain a realistic outlook on the game.

After the second goal, all of these efforts were dissolved. I didn't know whether to stand up or sit down. I couldn't speak for a moment. I was on the verge of stripping off my clothes and running through the streets of San Diego in celebration.

They showed a clip of the Confederation's Cup trophy at half time, and I started envisioning Landon Donovan and Clint Dempsey holding it above their heads after the game. I saw ESPN headlines, and the rebirth of soccer madness in the US. It was all coming together.

And then the second half began. Each goal that Brazil scored ripped a portion of my heart out. After the first goal I still maintained hope. After the second goal, quiet dread started to creep into the bar. After the third goal, there was nothing but utter disappointment. It made me want to curl up in a corner and slowly cry myself to sleep, which is exactly what I did when I arrived home later on in the day.



Pain Scale: Torturous

3. 2008 Minnesota Twins: It has been nearly a year since I started writing this blog. During the All-Star break last summer, I decided to start writing about Minnesota sports, with my main focus being on the Twins. At the time, the team was mired in a similar situation to where they are currently. Late innings bullpen collapses, injuries, tempered expectations, and general ass-battiness occurred throughout the second half of the season, yet somehow, as the season came to a close, the Twins were tied with the worst collection of humans on earth. I speak, of course, of the Chicago Bitch Sox.

The two teams had the exact same records, both home and away, and within the division, and had to play a one game playoff to determine who would be the Central Champion. I had spent the summer watching the activities of the Twins on ESPN Gamecast, writing about them, and willing them to somehow catch Chicago in the standing. Hours spent trying to create nicknames and photoshop various players as superheroes caused this one game to mean more than any other baseball game in my adult life.

I was in Minnesota at the time, and went to a local bar to watch the game with friends. Through 6 1/2 innings, there had been no score. Then, in the bottom of the 7th, the beast known as Jim Thome unleashed a monster home run off of Rob Nick Blackburn, effectively winning the game. I couldn't look at ESPN or the Strib for a week. I couldn't even think about writing anything for a week. Here is a link to the first entry that I made following that game. Re-reading the entry still makes me shed a few tears and hope that the Twins won't put me through a similar experience in 2009.


Ughh...gross.

Pain Scale: Intolerable

2. 2003/2004 Minnesota Timberwolves: I love the Timberwolves above all of my other teams. Attending games throughout my childhood and an unhealthy obsession with Kevin Garnett have caused me to form a bond with the team that can't be broken. Even after every misstep of ownership, management, and players over the years, I will still return every season with hope in my heart.

The apex of my fanaticism for the team began in the summer of 2003. In an effort to bring a championship to Minnesota before the exit of KG, CoacHale (who was GM at the time) made some bold moves. He made trades to bring in Sam "Big Balls" Cassell, Latrell "Feed my Family" Sprewell, and Michael "Bustlicious" Olowokandi to surround Garnett with some amount of talent.

After a slow start, the team gelled throughout the season to earn the top seed in the Western Conference playoffs. Throughout the playoffs, my confidence with the team grew more and more. They soundly beat the Denver Nuggets in the first round, and eventually conquered the Sacramento Kings in an epic game 7 in the second round. At the time, I had all of the confidence in the world that KG and his boys would be able to find a way to win against the Lakers in the Western Finals.



Unfortunately, Sam Cassell's back, hip and groin were injured, causing his leg to fall off at the start of the series. Sprewell didn't intimidate any of the Lakers with his Predator locks and couldn't seem to hit a shot. Olowokandi always sucked, so his performance wasn't out of the ordinary. KG played well, but there was only so much that he could do against Shaq and Kobe.

Although they managed to stretch the series to six games, the Lakers looked in control throughout. I watched each of the games with a growing sense of dread. By the end of game 6, I left my friend's apartment and wandered the streets of Madison by myself, wondering if KG or I would ever see a championship in Minnesota.

Pain Scale: Chopped off limb

1. 1998 Minnesota Vikings: I thought I was ready for this, but I've decided that the pain is still too fresh. I don't know if I'll ever get over that team, or season, or playoff game. Tears are streaming down my face as I write this, and I have the overwhelming urge to hunt down Denny Green.


Why would you kneel?!? Why?!?

Let me just say this; if I ever hear the following phrases, I may revert back into the near catatonic state that I experienced the day of the loss:

-Dirty Bird
-Jamal Anderson
-Gary Anderson
-Playing for Overtime

Ugh. So much pain. A thoroughly depressing way to end a thoroughly depressing post.

Pain Scale: Heart Explosion.

-Sota

Thursday, June 25, 2009

The Future Starts Now

What up world,

Tonight marks the beginning of something wonderful for the Timberwolves. With four draft picks in the first round, a young core of players, and a fresh break from Kevin Coachale, the team can only be headed in the right direction, right? No longer will we have to question the drafting abilities of the former management regime, and can begin questioning the drafts of our current one. David Kahn, your move.

The last time the team had the 5th pick (and kept it) was in 1995, when they chose to select my favorite human being of all time; my boy, KG. Although the Garnett years never yielded a championship for Minnesota, they still provided for some highly entertaining seasons of basketball. Since 1995, the draft has not been quite as successful. Here is a list of the first rounders over the last 13 years.

1996: Ray Allen (traded to Milwaukee for Stephon Marbury. Ugghhh, it hurts)
1997: Paul Grant
1998: Rasho Nesterovic
1999: Wally World, William Avery
2000 - 2002: The barren years. Damn you secret contracts!
2003: The one, the only, Ndudi Ebi
2004: No first rounder
2005: Rashad McCants (maybe not a great player, but a great poet nonetheless)
2006: Brandon Roy (traded for Randy Foye and cash. Bleh. Gross)
2007: Corey Brewer (probably should have just acquired a science class skeleton instead)
2008: OJ Mayo (traded for Kevin Love, current man crush)

During these years, the Wolves have drafted some quality players (Allen, Roy), but have quickly, and stupidly, traded them away before they've ever donned the blue and green. Other players have been fairly good in moments (Wally, Love, Foye), but would never, ever, in millions of years, be defined as superstars.

Now, in just a manner of hours, the Wolves have the opportunity to change all that. They have the 5th, 6th, 18th, and 28th picks, and have a chance to pick a slew of quality players. Maybe we get some solid talent with each pick and build a team that is decent from top to bottom in a couple of years. Maybe we will find a diamond in the rough with the lower round picks. Anything is possible.

However, regardless of the selections, if the Timberwolves don't manage to get Spain's Ricky Rubio, I will be livid. I don't care if you have to trade all four picks to move up to #2 or #3 to make that selection. You have to do it, Mr. Kahn. Trade your children. Give Memphis your kidney. Do anything you can to get the 18 year old phenom. If we stay at #5 and select Tyreke Evans or James Harden, I may break down and fall into the fetal position.

I've been watching Rubio highlights on Youtube for almost a full year, salivating at the thoughts of him as our point guard. Dishes to Big Al and Love on the inside, lobs to Rodney Carney for alley oops, and the occasional three pointer have haunted my dreams for months. He will make the team entertaining to watch again. Although I love Big Al's old school moves, you're never going to say that it's exciting to see his drop step or baby hook. Steve Nash-like passes, however, are a totally different story.

So, over the next few hours, I will be reading every piece of rumor that I can find on the internets, hoping and praying that a certain floppy haired Spainard will be headed to the frozen tundra for the winter. Imagine chanting "Rubio, Rubio, Ru...bi...oooooooo!!! from the stands. Never have a been so excited to yell out lines from Hook.

Make this happen David Kahn. Make a splash. Change our awful, forgettable, draft history with one fell swoop. Rubio!!!!!!!!!!

My Heart Goes Wandering

What up world,

The Twins continue to swim in the pools of mediocrity, refusing to capitalize on the opportunities that they've been presented with. Two errors tonight lead to a humiliating loss at the hands of the Brewers. We're never supposed to lose to the f-ing Brewers! Let alone in such an awful fashion. I leave my computer in an attempt to prepare a delicious salad, returning 10 minutes later to find us down a run and losing the game. It's gross. Much like my salad.

In an effort to cheer myself up, I tuned into the US men's soccer game today. They are currently playing in the Confederations Cup in South Africa. I've sat down for each of the games throughout the tournament, watching the team lose miserably to Italy and Brazil, and the subsequent victory against Egypt.

There is no sporting event that creates greater amounts of excitement for me than watching the US team play in international competition. The World Cup shuts down my life for a two week period every four years. I have grandiose dreams of traveling to South Africa next summer to experience the amazingness that the Cup offers.

I played soccer throughout high school, and have continued to play on various intramural teams in the many years since that time. I love playing the game, but this isn't the reason for my adoration of the National team. I think the biggest reason is my love for the underdog.

Every team that I've cheered for in my adult life have been underdogs. The Twins, Timberwolves, Vikings, and Badger football and basketball teams have always showed promise, but haven't ever been considered overwhelming favorites. There are no dynasties in the world of my fandome. The only team that was considered to be a championship lock was the 98 Vikings, and everyone knows how that turned out. Even writing "98 Vikings" has caused me to start weeping and cutting myself.

In any competition, I will always find myself rooting for the underdog. Even if I'm watching professional bowling, I'm still rooting for the guy with the dirty mustache and bad polyester shirt, who can't roll a strike to save his life. I may stay to watch the entire contest, just to see an upset in the making.

The US men's team has been underdogs in nearly every match that I've ever watched. Their limited success against European or South American teams over the years have caused me to live and die with every game. Today, I watched as they took on the #1 team in the world, Spain.

I studied in Spain for a semester and saw many of the team's players in different clubs around La Liga. I saw Fernando Torres at Atlectico Madrid, Sergio Ramos in Sevilla, and Cesc Fabregas at Barcelona. I picked them to win the last World Cup in my pool. I love watching them play, and didn't think the US stood a chance against them.

That's why, after the first goal, I jumped off my couch and danced around the house. After the second goal, I ran outside and embarrassingly yelled at the top of my lungs, drawing the attention of my neighbors dogs and a homeless man in the alleyway. I didn't think that they stood a chance after the first two games of the tournament, and now they were headed to the championship after beating the supergiant.

I will be locked in on Sunday, cheering for the underdog once again (they will most likely play Brazil in the final). So, while the Twins continue to waste late inning leads and the prolific season of Jo Jo Ma, one of my teams is taking advantage of the opportunities that they've been presented.

USA!!!

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Switching to the NL

What up world,

I love me some interleague play. After digging through the Sota Love laboratories of statistical research (it's very extensive), I've discovered that the Twins are 87 and 48 during interleague play since 2002. That's a .644 winning percentage y'all. And it seems to come at the exact right moment each season. After an April and May of mediocrity, the team starts to come together once the National League comes into town. Maybe it's because teams aren't used to playing under the baggie or on the artificial turf. Maybe it's due to Gardy's management style and our penchant for playing small-ball that causes us to match up well against NL teams. Or maybe it's the teams that we play against that allows the Twins to do so well. Lets examine this last point...

So far this season we have played against the Brewers, Cubs, and Pirates in interleague play, going 7 and 2. We will look at each series in separate parts:

Brewers: We swept the Brewers at home. At the time, the majority of Wisconites were devastated with the news of a possible Brett Favre transition to the Vikings. They were unable to fully support their baseball team, knowing that their childhood hero, God of their state, was about to betray them. Tears were being shed in the streets, Brett Favre statues were being torn down and destroyed, and every child that had been named after Brett was being exiled from the land of cheese. With all of this heartbreak and turmoil, the Brewers were unable to focus, especially while trying to catch fly balls against the baggie backdrop.

Additionally, the Twins love feasting on beer and sausages. Mike Redmond drank a keg of beer by himself. Brian Buscher ate an entire case of brats. Milwaukee really didn't stand a chance.

Cubs: The Twins won 2 out of 3 games at Wrigley Field over the weekend, with a large number of Minnesota fans in attendance. What I haven't revealed prior to this, is that the team contacted me before they made the trip. They knew that I had lived in Chicago for a number of years, and were wondering if I could provide a good itinerary for the team. Here was my Friday schedule.

Day: Win Game
Dinner: Vines on Clark St. Get a BBQ steak sandwich with the seasoned curly fries. Delectable.
Post Dinner: Visit Brent and Megan on Sheffield. Play a couple of games of blong ball on the back porch and enjoy a few drinks.
Bars: Start with a few drinks at Redmonds, the Badger/Vikings bar. They make especially good Jager bombs. When feeling particularly good, head to Matilda's/Baby Atlas down the street. Have a few landminds and dance with the mannequin for me.
Post Bars: Get a few slices from Ian's Pizza on Clark to end the evening. Avoid the T-Bell on Addison at all costs. Hit up Brent and Megan's place again for some late night Mario Kart or possibly some Big Bumping.
Saturday: Sleep it off. Win again.

With proper planning, the Twins were able to enjoy themselves, and were fully prepared for the games. On Saturday night, they decided to go to Big City Tap on Belmont, which I did not recommend, and ended up losing their game. I told them that nothing good happens at the Big City, but they refused to listen to me.

Pirates: I had every bit of confidence in the team as the Pirates came into town this week. Not only were the Pirates not used to playing in the Dome, but they are generally terrible. To add to this, every member of the Twins was allowed to do pirate impressions throughout the week.

For the pre-pubescent members of the team, this was glorious. Scottie Baker, Go Go Gomez, the Delmonic, Keiunta Span, Lexi, and Buscher all that this was fantastic. They took batting practice with triangle hats and eye patches. Redmond kept telling female fans that he was in search of their booty. Joe Mauer showed up in a full Jack Sparrow outfit and continued to be amazing.

So far, so good in the National League. We have the Houston Astros (Slowey like space stuff), the Brewers (more beer and brats), and the St. Louis Cardinals (they're kind of scary) left of the schedule. As of today, the Twins are at .500 and only a game and half back. By the end of June, we will be in first place and feeling good heading into the second half. It has been proclaimed!

-Sota

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Sweet Home Chicago

What up world,

I lived in Chicago for three years, most of that time within the shadow of Wrigley Field. I wandered the streets of Wrigleyville, enjoying the restaurants, the bars, and the general atmosphere of the area. Although I never became a full fledged Cubs fan, I will admit to owning a hat and offering my silent support to the team. I desperately wanted the Cubs to advance deep into the postseason, just to see the response of the neighborhood, and to have an excuse to get drunk and party.

I had no issues with the team other than being annoyed with the intoxicated, middle aged white guys that took over Clark St. on game days. They play in the National League, they generally fair pretty well against the Bitch Sox in interleague play, and are a fairly loveable team. Derrick Lee seems awesome. I can admire the scrappiness of The Riot. Ryan Dempster has crazy wrists, and Ted Lilly looks like he's constantly on the verge of tears.

In addition to this, the ballpark is awesome. It looks like it was put together with scraps of various building material and it seems to be constantly on the verge of collapse. However, it's located in the center of the city, with bars across the street, and homes that offer a view of the field of play from their rooftop. Going to a Cubs game is an event for the entire hood. Since moving there, I was always envious that Minneapolis didn't possess a similar feel. I'm hoping that Target Field will come close, but I don't know if you can ever match the atmosphere of Chicago's north side.

Through the magic of WGN, I was able to watch the Twins/Cubs series this weekend. Instead of being overjoyed that I was able to watch the games live, I became extremely jealous. I had heard from a variety of friends that were heading to Wrigley to watch the games. I had lived near the field for two years, and never had the chance to watch the Twins play there. I wanted to be chanting Joe Mauer's name with the rest of the crowd while on the verge of screaming like a pre-teen girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. I wanted to drink Old Style in the bleachers, taunting Milton Bradley for his bonehead play. I wanted to tell Go Go that I still loved him, even though he has a permanent ass-bat, and then go crazy when he hit his home run on Sunday.

Instead, I was dog sitting for friends, trying to formulate plans to see the team in LA. The combination of the Twins at Wrigley, the start of the Chicago dodgeball season, and too many shifts at work caused me to miss the mid-west more than ever before.

To recover from this, I spent the day at the beach yesterday, trying to quell the feeling of homesickness with crashing surf and bright sunshine. Although this helped, I still need to feel a little better. The solution? Maybe a sweep of the Pirates? I think so.

-Sota

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Scottie Gets Busy

What up world,

Scottie Baker is a very good pitcher. This 12 year old boy was projected to be our opening day starter prior to experiencing some soreness in his shoulder in the days leading up to the season. Through all of his troubles; giving up home runs, running into bad innings, forgetting his favorite teddy bear "Cuddles" on road trips, and issues with "nutty", Scottie can still bring the heat.

Every time that Scottie pitches, I always have visions of butterflies and no hitters. Here is a brief recap of the last few games.

6/9 Oakland: 8 innings, 3 earned runs. Took a shutout into the 9th before conceding to the bullpen. 8 strikeouts, 1 walk, and no home runs. Scottie! Good work!

6/4 Cleveland: 7 innings, 2 earned runs. 10 strikeouts, 1 walk, and 1 home run in another win. Dominating performance. This is what we were expecting out of Scottie to start the year.

5/29 Tampa: 5.2 innings, 4 earned runs. 4 strikeouts and 2 home runs. Not that great of a performance, but it was on the road, and Scottie had stayed up all night playing video games and eating sundaes the previous evening. We discussed his behavior, and although there were some tears and some yelling, he's agreed to start going to sleep early before games.

I believe that Scottie has turned a corner this season. He's delivered two very solid performances back-to-back, giving me another reason to love this young, innocent child. Wait, that sounds bad...

Let me explain. Not only is Scottie a promising, young pitcher, but he also provides a wide plethora of nicknames. In just a little bit of research, I've discovered that there are many sides to Scott Baker.

There is, of course, my version of Scott


Then there is the obvious baker comparisons (with a picture of nutty on his chef's hat).



The baker references naturally lead to a wide range of subsequent nicknames. Bake sale, Baker's dozen, Shake and Bake, among others.

Digging a little deeper, I've discovered that Scott has many interests outside of baseball. Although the images may not resemble the pitcher that we've grown to love, I can assure you that they are all, in fact, Scott Baker.

Scott Baker, Assistant Director of Clinical Care - Florida Hospital.



A long time resident of Ormond Beach, Scott Baker joins HospiceCare as our Assistant Director of Clinical Care. In the Florida Hospital System since 1992, Scott comes to us as the former Director of Case Management with Florida Hospital Fish Memorial. He will be responsible for the day to day domination of opposing hitters.

Scott Baker - Coney Island Sideshow




Scott Baker fronts the Coney Island Circus Sideshow as the Outside Talker (known to the uninitiated at the "barker") who talks you into opening your wallet and buying a ticket to the show. Not surprisingly, Scott is a trained Broadway actor with many stage and film credits. When not in Coney Island, Scott often delights audiences with his pitching performances for the Minnesota Twins, wherein he performs many of the most dangerous pitching acts, all on his own.

Lord Justice Scott Baker



Although he looks considerably older in this picture, Scott Baker presided over the Princess Diana wrongful death lawsuit in Great Britain in 2007. In a high pressure, highly public situation, Scott performed admirably and in the proper context of public interest during the hearings.

There is so much about Scott that we don't know. Even with the tremendous pressure we place on him to carry the young pitching staff, he still manages to practice medicine, law, and freakshows. For that young Scottie, I have to offer my respect.

-Sota

Monday, June 8, 2009

Seattle!!!!

What up world,

The city of Seattle and I have a love/hate relationship. On one hand, it's a beautiful city that is the home of my wonderful sister, her husband, and their friends. It's within driving distance of some great skiing, hiking, and camping. I enjoy Alki and West Seattle quite a bit. You can ride Orca's around Puget Sound, and delicious coffee comes out of their taps instead of water. In these ways, Seattle is a wonderful place to visit.

On the other hand, it is also the place that the Twins go to have their hopes and dreams crushed. Seattle welcomes all visitors with open arms, aside from baseball teams from Minnesota, whom are hammered into the ground and beaten repeatedly. Here is a recap from the weekend.

Friday - Twins 2, Seattle 1

It took extra innings, but the Twins managed to steal a win away. The Saint pitched well for the first time in a long time, allowing only one run in 6 innings. Scraptastic Matt Tolbert hit a line drive in the 10th that should have been caught, but resulted in the winning run crossing the plate. Unfortunately, the play resulted in an error, which doesn't help Tolbert's otherworldly .179 average.

Saturday - Twins 1, Seattle 2

Rob Nick Blackburn came to play on Saturday, pitching 7 innings and only giving up 1 run. The entire lineup, however, must have drank too much coffee on Friday night, and were mired in Sucktown during the game. Too much caffiene is bad for your game, guys. Having the shakes and gut rot while you are at the plate is not a recipe for success.

Sunday - Twins 2, Seattle 4

Kevin Slowey decided that he was sick of being awesome and gave up three home runs. The assbats continued to be prevalent for the Twins, especially with runners in scoring position, going 0 for 8 on Sunday. The team is now 7 and 18 on the road, and has 7 more games left in their current roadtrip. Things can only get better right?

After a full weekend of touring the sites of Seattle, going to Pikes Place Market, seeing the Starbucks headquarters, and drinking gallons of coffee and coffee related products, the Twins were simply exhausted when it came to actually playing the game. I understand that. Fortunately, they are headed to Oakland next. Oakland sucks. There are only whistle tips and Raider fans in Oakland.

I still have the faith, Twins. Stop making everything so painful.

-Sota

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Superheroes Unite

What up world,

Last week, when our favorite, teeniest superhero was placed on the disabled list, I was concerned for the entire metro area. While, Lil Nicky Punto may not have been doing anything effective on the field, he was actively protecting the good citizens of the Twin Cities. Kittens were being saved, old women were being helped across the street, and Packer fans were being quelled. Without his constant vigilance, the entire state may crumble into a crime-filled mess.

It wasn't until yesterday's game that my fears were tempered. What I hadn't realized was that Lil Nicky had been quietly training his replacement over the past season and a half, both in the field and in the streets. Brendan "Don't call me Brenden" Harris has emerged as the next teeniest superhero to fill our gapingly deficient shortstop position.



Since coming from Tampa Bay as part of the Delmon Young trade, Brendan has been filling in as a utility player in the Twins rotation. He has provided sufficient defense and the occasional timely hit, but he has gone larger unnoticed in my mind. That was until the last couple of games. Not only did he have a run preventing play in the field last night, he also went yard on Sunday against the Rays. For these reasons, I decided to do some investigative work into Harris' background in order to find out for about this mysterious man.


Who are you Brendan Harris?

Unfortunately, there is very little information out there. His upbringing is veiled in secrecy and riddles. Apparently he grew up in Albany, New York, but he has been on the move for several years. He was drafted and played for the Cubs, spent time with the Expos, Nationals, Reds, and Rays before landing in Minnesota.

After several hours of research, I can start to form some conclusions. When he entered into the Twins clubhouse last spring, Lil Nicky obviously saw some potential in Harris. He was a scrappy player that had spent the majority of his career as an unknown. Due to this, Punto decided to take him under his tiny wing to teach him the ways of a Twins superhero.


Chasing down evil doers who place the Twins on their no-trade clause.

Soon, Punto and Harris were working in tandem, patrolling the mean streets of Minneapolis in search of wrongdoers. Punto was dedicating so much time to teaching young Harris, that his play in the field started to suffer. He mistakenly picked up his ass-bat from 2007, and didn't properly stretch in pre-game warmups. Before we could realize that Lil Nicky had stretched himself too thin, he was batting .187 and pulling his groin.

Luckily, the teachings of Punto had sunk in for Harris. He had become a tiny superhero in his own right, and has even begun to spread the Lil Nicky lessons to other scrappy members of the team.


Harris and recent protege Matt Tolbert

Best of luck Brendan. May the scrappy play and headlong dives into first work for you as well as they have for Punto. Actually, hopefully they will work better. Much, much better.

The picture below was captured during the Twins' recent day off. I think he'll do fine.


Saving puppies, saving the Twins, saving Minnesota

-Sota

Monday, June 1, 2009

The Ones That Got Away

What up world,

Even after the pep talk, the Twins continued their road suck-fest on Saturday, losing to the Rays 5-3. By the time Sunday rolled around, I was convinced that we were going to be swept, leading to a serious case of the Mondays on their day off.

Much to my surprise, Rob Nick Blackburn turned in a gem, and the team won 3-2. In addition to the pitching of R.N., the Twins received some power from Brendan Harris and some timely hitting from Go Go. The Delmonic even had a hit! Yay! He also turned in two strikeouts and left a couple of base, but at least it's something.

What makes the win even sweeter was that it was against the spitting machine known as Matt Garza. He and Jason Bartlett were sent to Tampa in exchange for Young and Harris last offseason. It was a move that was hailed by many fans. The Delmonic and his tremendous potential were headed to the great white north to provide some much needed pop to our lineup. He would patrol the left field, send homers in every direction, and steal more bases than Dane Cook steals jokes.

After a season and a half, I can say with confidence that I regret this particular transaction. The Delmonic looks lost at the plate. His upper and lower body look as if they came from two different people. I'm convinced that he had his legs amputated and replaced at some point in his life. I would much rather have an outfield of Span, Go Go, and Cuddles on a night to night basis, with More Ku-bell as the DH.

Meanwhile, Garza and Bartlett have been tearing up the AL East. Garza was the AL Championship Series MVP. Bartlett was voted team MVP for his defense and was hitting .373 with 7 home runs before he was recently put on the DL.

Now, I will admit that I was excited for the trade when it happened. I had gone through some rocky patches with Garza and his poor attitude, and was ready to move onto something fresh and new. I was getting those new relationship butterflies once again. First dates and some evidence of power from Young made me quickly forgot how much joy I had experienced with the Garza/Bartlett tandem. Instead of putting work into what I had, I was moving onto something flashy.

Today, when I see how well my boys are doing on the Rays, it hurts. You never want to see someone move onto something better. You want a Ricky Davis or Dante Culpepper situation. Not what I have now. Currently, I have Garza, Bartlett, KG, Santana, Kyle Lohse, and Randy Moss excelling on new teams. Past relationships that continue to haunt me throughout sports page headlines and sportcenter highlights.

I will move on, eventually. Someone else will tug at my heartstrings. Purple Jesus has already has my full attention. Jo Jo Ma and Justin Morneau as well. Percy Harvin is starting to whisper sweet nothings into my ear. The Delmonic may figure something out eventually, and we might be able to rekindle the fire that was once there.

Only time, and buckets of break up ice cream, will tell.

-Sota