Sometimes you're forced to admit that your best ideas stem from another person's brainchild. It turns out that this is exactly the case when it comes to a Princess Bride parody I wrote up yesterday after giving some thought to why I've been seeing a recurring joke about Paul Molitor being the Man in Black on Twins Daily game threads. I had absolutely no idea why or how the nickname started, but I loved the way it tied right in with my previous plans to someday write something about the Twins storming the castle (meaning the Royal's Kauffman Stadium), so I went ahead with the idea.

It turns out that SampleSizeOfOne, a regular on Twins Daily, started it all a few days ago with some reference to The Princess Bride and the Twins, and apparently my interpretation is actually not that far off base. So if you like it, don't give me all the credit since I owe my story in part to him, and if you dislike it...well, please don't lay all the blame on me. That just wouldn't be fair.

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Remember last offseason? There's a little-known saga that could use some publicity concerning a few of the top people for the Twins. It all started one torpid day back in September when Jim Pohlad, Terry Ryan, and Ron Gardenhire were chatting over a tequila after a long day of discussing the merits of the current roster.

"We need a new manager," Jim remarked lazily. "This just isn't working out anymore. You know of a good replacement, don't you, Gardy?"

Gardy stared down at his hands and mumbled gloomily. After prodding him a bit further, Jim decided that he was too far in the tank to respond legitimately and instructed Terry to jog his memory a bit when he came around. The next day Terry told Ron that if he wanted to stay in the Twins organization he'd have to step down, but he promised that he would get him a position in the front office where he could have a say in who would inherit the managerial office. Gardy agreed to step down, but needless to say, he was still pretty miffed about losing the job and refused to accept the position in the front office. Terry reported back to Jim, feeling bad since he'd lost Gardy for good.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to jog him so hard..." and then he stopped and started in surprise and consternation. Jim was staring intently at a framed picture of Carl Pohlad that hung on the wall of his living room, and suddenly he started to murmur something in almost unintelligible monotones.

"Father, I have failed you for four years. Now our misery can end. Somewhere, somewhere close by, is a man who can help us. But we just can't find him."

It turns out that Jim underestimated Terry's sleuthing abilities. Without any aid from Jim besides the money to fulfill the contract, Terry picked a former Twins player and coach who had returned to Minnesota for the 2014 season. Obviously the man, often referred to as Molly but better known to members of the front office as the Man in Black, was pretty smart if he was able to foresee his future role as manager of the Minnesota Twins a year in advance, so Terry was pretty confident that it would work out alright.

However, spring returned and the regular season was once again officially underway. Much to Terry's surprise and consternation, the Twins got off to a horrible start. In fact, even the most optimistic of die-hard Twins fans gave up the season as lost after just one week of ball and a record of 1-6. Nobody in their wildest dreams could imagine ending the season with more than 72 wins; in fact, it wouldn't surprise them at all if they finished closer to 62.

So no one took notice when Terry summoned Jim to his office and, with arms stretched across his desk and his head dropped dramatically into his hands, he muttered something that sounded to the fly on the wall like, "It didn't work."

Jim leaned against the closed door in his best attempt to look like a nonchalant loiterer. Dangling from his long, thin fingers was an A. Flores 1975 Serie Privada Capa Habano SP52, which was as characterizing a trait of him in recent years as his wife's Baccarat Les Larmes Sacrées de Thebes. But that has nothing to do with our present story. Opening his mouth and letting out a stream of smoky sweetness, he murmured, more to himself than anybody else, "It just is not fair."

The minutes passed in somewhat strained but companionable silence, with the only interruption being a heavy sigh emitting from Terry's lungs when Jim thoughtlessly tapped his ashes onto the spotlessly clean carpet of his study. Finally Jim broke the tranquility by saying in a voice that was intended to betoken determination, "Well, the Pohlads have never taken defeat easily. Come along, Terry."

With a great effort, Terry raised his head and stared listlessly at Jim. "What's up? Have you any money?"

Jim shook his head at Terry's ignorance and assured him that they weren't going to attack the free agent market or negotiate a trade of any kind.

"As expected," Terry muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" questioned Jim sharply, but Terry waved it off and refused to answer. "Well," Jim proceeded, "I do have a little money; I hope it's enough to buy a miracle...that's all. Call the Man in Black."

Terry Ryan obeyed, meanwhile planning that if any moves would be taken on Jim's part to remove the Man in Black from his role as manager, he would have to start a revolution in the front office.

They met as planned at a quiet, somewhat disreputable bar that had a backroom where the owner stayed, refusing to admit anybody under any conditions. Witnesses say that they disregarded all warnings from the bartender and knocked loudly on the door. From within the owner was heard to shout, "Go away."

However, Terry Ryan, not to be put down, knocked even louder, enough to even attract the attention of a bouncer who strolled over to see if his services were required. The door opened a crack and the owner, irritated, said, "What? What??"

Terry Ryan, pleased with his success thus far, responded, "Are you the Miracle Max who worked for the Royals all those years?"

Miracle Max (I'll just say it - it's no mystery) grunted, "The stinking Royals fired me. And thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it? We're closed," and banged the door shut in their faces.

However, Terry Ryan refused to be abashed and swatted it back open again before he had time to lock it. Miracle Max roared, "Beat it, or I'll call the brute squad!"

"I'm on the brute squad," said Jim, glad to be able to finally chip in with his own piece. He reached down and tapped his wallet impressively. Miracle Max sized him up and then muttered, "You are the brute squad."

Terry Ryan decided to stop beating around the bush and got directly to the point. It was getting late and he was beginning to feel just a little thirsty, and he wanted to get the job done so he could quench that growing thirst before it got to be unbearable.

"We need a miracle. It's very important," he told Miracle Max, looking him straight in the eye, a trick he'd learned in his early scouting years. Max seemed to relent a little but stubbornly stuck to his point.

"Look, I'm retired. And besides, why would you want someone the stinking Royals fired? I might create even worse problems for the Twins."

By this time Terry Ryan was almost frustrated, and he glanced up at the ceiling in an attempt to calm his nerves and collect his thoughts. "How could it get any worse?" he asked patiently. "This here gentleman has some questions for you," indicating the Man in Black with a wave of his hand.

"He does, huh? I guess I can listen. Apparently I'm doing that anyway. Come on in."

Miracle Max opened the door a little wider to admit them, and they stepped across the threshold. Nobody knows what went on during the long hours that they spent in there. Of course there are rumors, but not a single one relates to another, so I'll leave most of them out of our story. However, there are a few that deserve honorable mentions: some people swear that there was talk of noble deeds, true love, MLT sandwiches with nice lean mutton and ripe tomatoes, promises of humiliations galore, and miracle pills. Naturally we'll reject the finale as wholly impossible, but the others...well....

However, as that's likely just a bunch of hogwash, I'll skip ahead to what's reported of when they came back out. Unfortunately by that time everyone besides those four were pretty stewed, but when the door finally opened, it seems that Miracle Max had unearthed a wife named Valerie, and the two of them were being thanked profusely by Terry Ryan. Valerie seemed especially fond of them and called out, "Bye-bye, boys!" and Max said, "Have fun storming the castle!" to which his wife questioned, "Do you think it'll work?" and he responded, "It would take a miracle."

Then history comes into play. We hosted Kansas City and won our first series of the year. It turns out that Miracle Max, being somewhat intoxicated himself, must have been mistaken when he instructed them to have fun storming the castle since it wasn't until later in April that we went to Kauffman Stadium, but then again, the mistake could be due to the fact that all the witnesses were as drunk as broiled hoot owls. But no matter. Whatever went on in that room in the back of the bar was truly a miracle, and we've done just marvelous since then. I won't question authority when I recognize it.

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Storming the Castle