Imagine the Universe, swirling mysteriously across untold aeons and dimensions. Within this maelstrom, how can one isolate the force that is Mauer Power? How far does it extend? Is it more polite than other Universal forces, like Hulkamania? My goals may be lofty in this Universe, and yet I am COMPELLED to write yet another column about Mauer and the home runs. This Question of the Ages is a perennial classic for the local sports media. For most of them, it seems Mauer Power did not increase t
As I write this, the Twins have dropped three of the last four. Pride and hope take their lumps. Whatever bunkers Twins fans have built to survive 90 loss seasons are restocking their apocalyptic buffets. The Twins will go back into the mines tonight to try to find baseball gold, and it seems increasingly like Byron Buxton is the canary early-warning system for disaster. Thus far, he's looking a little rough. If he drops back to the minors, or stops seeing playing time, things look rougher for
It's Monday. The Twins aren't playing at the moment, but they're going to unload the war wagons and take on Detroit on their turf. The Twins have taken two series from divisional foes, and winning a third series would feel like a nice little start to somethin' somethin'. Five to one. That makes me pause for a second to remind people to appreciate The Doors like they ought to appreciate them. If you're going to roll down your car windows and drive down a rural highway this summer, you'd better
I just asked my wife if my Twins Zubaz still existed. I have to ask. They’ve seen better days. Their greatest wound is an inch and a half ripped seam in the crotch, rendering them useless for anything public. I’ve thought about mending the tear, but the rest of the Zubaz are worn so thin I imagine they’d tear in ten other places like ice crackling during a spring thaw. Do I wear them expecting they’ll bring me closer to the Minnesota Twins as I slumber? Absolutely. Pajamas should always be a
It's opening day and I'm wearing my Joe Nathan shirt for the tenth year in the row. The Twins are playing the Royals, because the Twins are ALWAYS playing the Royals. Advanced statistics will confirm the Twins play 127% of their games against the Royals, and 75% of those games mean nothing to anybody anyway. But we sure play them, now knowing that all of us can go to Hy-Vee afterwards. A guy named Duffy is taking the mound for the Royals, which kind of pissing me off. I don't know Duffy, and I
Joe Mauer’s DEVOTION regarding walking up to T.I.’s “What You Know?” is well-known and even generates some GOOD-NATURED RIBBING from the chaps who write baseball things. Yet, has the STABLE SLUGGER hidden a message of PROFOUND SUPERNATURAL LORE within these words? Consider the following lyrics: What you know about that? What you know about that? What you know about that? Simple, upon first view. But simplicity can hide behind its cloaks GREAT COMPLEXITY, like the bounteous spread of dishe
This is a TV promo, and this is your last chance to strap yourself in. Because the next time your favorite team takes the field, the team's ace is going to be taking the mound. The guy on your team people from other states know. The ace. The guy who can throw fireballs and baseballs that dart about like butterflies and baseballs that start at the batter's eye line and auger ten feet underground. He's the guy who looks like his giant streetlight poster, and is actually taller than he appear
Once, many of us still believed in a magical NORTH POLE where SANTA CLAUS makes everything all better (perhaps more of you would still believe if it wasn't for a terrible lie your parents told you to benefit BIG ELFING). Sadly, childhood may be the last time the lot of us all believed in a magical place ON EARTH! We Iowans once tried to pull some flim-flammary to convince you Iowa was heaven, FOOLED YOU, MINNESOTA! Some people still find it in themselves to believe in heaven on the planet. Eve
(Note - it is my hope that we are far enough past the CIRCLE ME BERT CANCELLATION NIGHTMARE that I may impart some TRUTHFUL TRUTHS. If my voice is silenced suddenly, please leave a stick figure drawing of TC Bear in a City Pages on the big glove sculpture. My people will understand.) Roswell, NM. An alien spacecraft crashes in the desert. The cover-up begins immediately. Some say it was a WEATHER BALLOON or an EXPERIMENTAL AIRCRAFT. A few even think the whole incident was an ELABORATE DECEPT
New Line Cinema released a furious preview for their remake of Stephen King's It, and the excitement drove me to pick up my well-worn hardcover of the book to reread it slowly and deliberately. I hope to become so connected with the terrors of Derry, Maine, that I risk waking up to find myself staring at the house on Neibolt Street. Or worse. Last night, I read something that sparked my imagination. Mike Hanlon, future librarian and member of the heroic Loser's Club, referred to listening to t
Instead of writing an original piece of HIGH STRANGENESS to satisfy your curiosity, I am sharing a most EDIFYING piece in praise of the one solitary run the Twins are allowed to score in most games. 4 out of 6 since last we talked. Gather, ye ball fans As I make all clear The most mirthful joy Of our ONE run cheer! To score runs PLURAL Cannot be much fun Compared to sheer glee From scoring just one! Teams - not the Twins, no They love the long ball They hammer and drive They score, one and
Miguel Sano is the AL Player of the Week. Baseballs scream at night for their baseball parents to make sure Miguel Sano isn't under their bed. As I write this, the Twins have a winning schedule. Good. Because let's face it, none of us are happy about anyone else. The dam of Internet puppies and kitties finally busted. Log on to social media and drown in smarm and misery. Tyler Durden once wondered how far clever would get a person, and I think we found out. I don't know about you, but the am
Though the SPINNING WHIRLS OF THE SUPERNATURAL WORLD are often filled with lonely men in black t-shirts, nearly every Twins fan has pondered the UNBEARABLE SUFFERING of LOSING EVERY GAME to the NEW YORK YANKEES! I hope I can somehow ease the EVERLASTING suffering of the sweet, TC-hatted heads in our community. How many of you have flung pillows at flat-screen televisions, slapped the power knob of a car radio, or politely told the ghost of Yogi Berra his delightful witticisms are not appreciat
2027 AD. The Playoffs. Yankee Stadium. The stands are filled with screeching Yankees fans. Some wear spiked shoulder pads. Some look like the Baseball Furies. Zombies sit in the cheap seats. Billy Crystal stands on the pitcher's mound, dressed exactly like Tupac in the "California Love" video. He incites the crowd to heightened frenzies. The zombies are having fun. "Who will the New York Yankees select to play in the playoffs?" Mad Billy shouts. In the other dugout, the Minnesota Twi
I planned to write four columns for four Twins games attended in eight days, but I got stuck after running Fifteen's 5K before the last game and ended up skipping the game and staying home. The Twins lost, but my experience running into Target Field and getting closer Glen Perkins to sign my medal thrilled me enough to make me forget my favorite team's woes. Still, I felt like I owed y'all that last blog entry, to justify my shameless and unabashed promotion of my novel Orphans (in paperback a
Gather round the fire, ye baseball fans. Imagine, if you will, a roaring blaze licking from beneath a tent of shattered bat handles. Listen to the tale I am about to tell, for EVERY word is true. I tell the tale . . . Of the BASEBALL WEREWOLF! A baseball werewolf behaves in much the same way as your regular, meat and potatoes werewolf. The moon and the night bring out its power, which is the ONLY possible explanation for why the Twins seem able to score ONLY AFTER THE FIFTH INNING in the las
Why can't Target Field have a yeti? Even a dedicated master of the art of SUPERNATURAL BASEBALL has trouble cobbling together enough words to delve into the spirit of this wonderful sport. It's difficult enough to put on a face to open your door in these days of late, late winter. No baseball cap upon your head but instead a STOCKING CAP where the pom pom is made of the SHREDDED PLANS OF YOUR SNOWBOUND LIFE! Twins fans spent a whole weekend indoors without a BIT of baseball to ease the pain.
The Twins are coming home 6-3, and with the seasons we've suffered through they might as well all strut onto Target Field wearing uniforms designed to mimic John Travolta's white suit from Saturday Night Fever. They should have a "Pinch 'n Slap" booth at each entrance to help fans confirm they are not dreaming. Ice cream in mini batting helmets should come with six cherries on top. But we're all gonna talk about losing that series to Detroit, and we're especially going to talk about Byron Buxt
This morning, fellow citizens of Twins Territory left their homes to find infant animals, such as deer and rabbits, lining up to sniff their hands in the dewy grass and pastel sunlight. Maybe. Look, none of us really know what the 4-0 life is like. Last time it happened was 1987, an era the nearest adolescent to you will tell you is "ancient" before building another cube-pig-insult-to-nature on Minecraft. You hate the Minecraft, don't you? It's always nice to beat the White Sox, too. Exce
I am not a handyman. I am a jack of no trades. When it became time to prepare my snowblower for storage, I took it as a threat to the peace and harmony of my weekend. Sure enough, I managed to stretch a small chore into two days of choking back cuss words because my daughter was in earshot. It's ready now. Probably.
The nice part is I didn't suffer alone. I had Cory Provus and Dan Gladden to keep me company. I listened to the Twins play in the garage. It felt right, somehow. Baseball and sm
For the most part, Target Field is like a spacecraft from a hopeful, utopian science-fiction universe. There, fans saluting any pennant can wear clothing honoring their sporting allegiance without harassment. Your experience might be different, but I've always enjoyed sharing the game with other fans and enjoying nothing worse than mild ribbing. There are cracks in the facade, of course. The worst cracks open a gateway to hell, from which sprouts an unholy creature born to create utter misery
The Houston Astros. The team downplayed it. The commissioner spoke on it. The other players weighed in, some enraged at the cheaters, some enraged at the snitchers. Clearly baseball needs another bulky white man’s opinion, but I’ve had difficulty decided exactly how I feel about it. I went with “smug” first, typing out a bratty lil piece about wishing the Twins would cheat to get past the Yankees in the post season. Even typed out a draft on my phone: Maybe we get found out. Maybe it takes a
The Twins dropped the series to the Diamondbacks and, as of this writing, are only one game ahead of the Guardians in the division. Next up, a whole slew of games against those Guardians. Beware.
I’m trying to maintain my optimism after the series loss in Arizona. It’s not going well. I tried to listen to the game on Sunday, but all that happened was that I got to hear the Diamondbacks hit a grand slam. A door to victory shuts. I switch my Echo Dot (a wonderful Father’s Day gift from my bel
When I went to bed last night, the Twins were up seven to three.
I know what you’re thinking – how early does he go to bed? I have to get up early so I go to bed early.
Anyway, the whole game turned into a Schrödinger’s cat kind of thing. Overly simplified, Schrödinger posed an interesting dilemma. First, theoretically, someone could place a cat in a box with a radioactive particle. Then, a radiation detector would be connected to a hammer. The hammer would be poised over a container o
There were lots of bad baseball moments this holiday weekend. Yesterday, I would've written a whole blog entry about despair and bullpen blow-ups. Today the Twins split the Red Sox series with a decisive victory and I'm a happy boy. Couple home runs, some late inning score-padding. Dylan Bundy turning in a solid performance - we'll just worry about those hard-hit balls later, shall we?
Game-by-game, I'm like Frankenstein, Twins win. Baseball GOOD. Twins lose. Baseball BAD. The big guy's be
I really hold back what I would like to say about then payroll arguments here. The fact that people don't accept the amount taken in dictates the amount going out requires one of two things. Extreme financial ignorance or fanatical bias that prevents the acceptance of something some basic. I did not change the argument. It's the same idiocy over and over. Do you really want to be on the side that suggests revenues does not determine spending capacity?
At this point in the pre-season, I’m just so happy to be seeing games again, I don’t care about the Twins record in 2023. I think they’ll win it all, unrealistically speaking 🙂