The July weather in Cedar Rapids was hot and sticky, but Seth Stohs was used to it by now. Ever since the Minnesota Twins moved their low Single-A minor league affiliate to the affably named City of Five Seasons, Seth would make about three trips per year down I-35, 218, and 380 until he reached Veterans Memorial Stadium. The drive generally lasted around eight hours, but seeing the Kernels play live baseball and eating mountains of local Iowa-bred pork was always worth it.

However, there was something special about this particular Saturday ballgame. The sweet corn tasted just a little bit juicier, the beer a little bit smoother, and now, star shortstop Nick Gordon was about to hit for the cycle. Seth had adopted the tantalizing prospect a couple months earlier, setting up an extra bedroom in the back of his sprawling North Dakota estate for "Nicky G Fresh," as he liked to call him. Gordon had not yet spent a night there, but Seth was confident that his adopted son would come calling soon enough.

The count was 3-2, and Gordon stood poised in the batter's box. In came a twisting slider, and with the slap of his bat, Gordon sent it flying into the corner of right field. Seth leapt forward in his seat, crushing his cup of Miller Lite as his knuckles whitened. "Come on, Nicky G," muttered Seth. "Gut it out!" Sure enough, Gordon rounded second in a blaze and slid into third, safe by a mile; he had completed the cycle. "YES!" yelled Seth. "MY BOY DID IT!"

As Seth leaned back into his seat and the red dissipated from his face, the iPhone in the cupholder next to him erupted. Parker Hageman, a chummy Twins aficionado, had texted him a message that would soon change his life. "Seth, have you seen the latest Reusse article? It might make you double-take, but don't worry; nothing's gonna stop us now :o"

With an ounce of anxiety and hesitation, Seth pulled up the Minneapolis Star Tribune website on his phone. Patrick Reusse, a boisterous local columnist, had long written pieces that had mildly irked Seth, but nothing like what he was about to read.

FEAST TO FAMINE: WHY THE TWINS' FARM SYSTEM IS DOOMED

Seth furrowed his brow as a drop of anger-sweat made its way down his forehead. He made it halfway through the article before furiously closing the tab, as one line in particular had pushed him over the edge. Reusse's words stuck to him like a thistle to wool: "The Minnesota Twins do not possess a single prospect of note below AA Chattanooga."

"Nobody disses my boy Nicky G Fresh like that," exclaimed Seth. "That's it... It's time to call Nelson."