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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 have no desire to expend any effort to find two facts I can string together that make it look like I cared. Our Minnesota Twins lost over 100 games last year and, on their first battle of 2017, a pitcher with a name sounding like pure aw-shucks happiness is going to be come trotting on to the field. Couldn't we have found a team with a pitcher named "Grimm-Reeper" or "Rebuilding-Year?" I know, everybody's in first place now. Groovy. It was a short weekend and I still remember trying to have meaningful discussions about the team's future while they circled the bases in reverse, like the were slugging runners round the rim of a toilet bowl. Don't get me wrong, I'm not insulting the players who put in the work and try their best and are probably more frustrated than the average fan can imagine. I just have to spell out my feels because I know some of you out there will pick up what I'm putting down. I love the Twins like I love air and water, but I can't just forget 2016. If my wife had a sexy affair with a guy dressed like my arch-nemesis Sweetums, from the Muppets . . . we would try to work through it. But I would insist on having her deloused and I would leave the house and burn it if I saw one brown muppet hair. Soon, those blue-billed Royals will emerge from the secret tunnels between their stadium and the Twins, tipping their Morlock bus driver as they exist. It will be the first of 1000 games between these two teams, before the All-Star break. Next, Twins fans will arrive. "I want to see a double!" a small child will say, and everyone will understand. We love our team to death, but bruised hearts start slow. -Axel Kohagen

On Tuesday, I checked the 25-man rosters of all 30 MLB teams, checking not for quality, but quantity - of players by positions. While this may not be the opening day roster, it was probably close. Of the 30 teams: • Most had 12 pitchers. Two teams - the Athletics and the Mets had 11 pitchers. the Mets actually only had 24 players on the 25-man roster. The Cubs, Giants and Indians had 13 pitchers. All others had 12. • Four of the AL teams – Athletics, Red Sox, Royals and Tigers had a player named as a designated hitter. The other 11 teams did not. • The three-man catcher appears to be a thing of the past. Only the Cubs carried three catchers. All other teams had two designated as catcher. • Teams had between four and seven infielders and between four and seven outfielders designated. One should keep in mind that some players can play both infield and outfield positions (such as Danny Santana, Miguel Sano, Eduardo Escobar and Eduardo Nunez). Eight teams designated seven infielders, but only Oakland designated seven outfielders. The Athletics were also the only one to have only four infielders. A lot of teams had four, five or six infielders and outfielders. But only the Royals had equal numbers of each (five). • Half of the teams (15) had exactly six infielders. Fourteen teams had 4 outfielders; 11 teams had five outfielders. Five teams had either six or seven outfielders. • The most common roster was 12 pitchers, two catchers, 6 infielders and 5 outfielders (9 teams had that). • The Cubs, Mets, Athletics and Royals had unusual combinations of pitchers, catchers, infielders, outfielders and/or designated hitters that no other team had. Oakland's was most unusual - with 11 pitchers, 7 outfielders, only 4 infielders, 2 catchers and a DH. It's one of only 2 teams with 11 pitchers (all others had 12 or 13); only team with 4 infielders; only team with 7 outfielders, and one of four teams with 4 DHs. P IF OF CA DH Mets – 11 6 5 2 A's – 11 4 7 2 1 Cubs – 13 5 4 3 Royals – 12 5 5 2 1 Twins – 12 6 5 2 (most common) I'm not sure of the significance of all of this. But if the Athletics, Mets, Cubs and Royals succeed with their unusual combinations of players, will other teams copy them? Probably not.

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Minnesota Twins last night. The Royals had already won the first two games of a series which was deemed crucial to who would ultimately win the AL Central, and we were down 7-1 going into the bottom of the 8th in the last game of the series. Luke Hovechar had just inherited the mound from Edinson Volquez, and Trevor Plouffe was in the batter's box with a 2-2 count. Mark Ripperger, the home plate umpire, was hoping that the game would end quickly and according to schedule so he could keep a date he was set for later that night. Grim melancholy hovered like an evil being over the stricken multitude. The Twins had been in a slump for the past week, and they couldn't see how they could come back and win a game when down by six runs with only two innings to go. In the deepest depths of despair, a straggling few got up from the stands and returned to the miseries of everyday life, preferring that to seeing their team lose yet another game without even putting up a fight as they went. The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; it was dismally whispered from person to person that the game wasn't over until it was over, and they might as well stick it out and see what happened next. Much to the fans' delight and Ripperger's dismay, Trevor Plouffe proceeded to tear the cover off the ball; when the dust had lifted and you could see what had occurred, there was Trevor crossing home, and the ball was a souvenir somewhere beyond the fence in that land known as left field. Then from 28,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; the Plouffe birds shrieked and hollered, and the sound which emitted from their throats rumbled across the city and is even rumored to have been heard in numerous quiet living rooms stationed at various points all across the nation. Mark Ripperger began to worry just a little that the inning could turn into one of those blowout innings when the team just can't seem to stop scoring runs, and the worst thing about it was that it wasn't late enough in the game for it to automatically end after the Twins took the lead. Nervously wiping his perspiring hands on his already grubby black pants, Ripperger did a few hasty mental calculations. He knew the rule that states that balls and strikes cannot be contested beyond a little dugout and on-the-field chatter, and he also remembered that that can be taken care of quite easily and (here lies his mistake) with little to-do, so he decided that the easiest way out of it would be to widen his strike zone by just a little and ring the proceeding batters up to end the inning before anything disastrous happened. He had already earned himself a reputation behind the plate in years past, and he didn't think that anyone would notice anything out of the ordinary as long as he kept it looking pretty consistent. Accompanied by the shouts of the ever faithful, Torii Hunter stepped into the batter's box and took a few practice swings. He was already 0-2 with a strikeout on the game, but he intended to extend Plouffe's favor and get the team on an absolute role. Like the fans, he knew that no game is ever over until it's over, and based on that knowledge, he believed that the Twins would have had a chance even if they happened to be down 12-0 in the 9th. However, he also knew that it could very well depend on him to get the rest of his teammates going. 56,000 eager eyes were glued on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt; 28,000 eager tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. In came the first pitch, and it was called a ball. As Ripperger stepped back from the plate he thought remorsefully to himself that he couldn't help that one; it was just too obvious to call it anything else, and he was sure to have plenty of opportunities later in the count. He watched as Perez threw the ball back to Hovechar, and then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, the quartet set up once more, this time with a 1-0 count. Once again the leather sphere came hurtling through the air, and, in haughty grandeur, Hunter let it fly past unheeded. "That ain't my style," said he, but Ripperger bellowed, "Strike one!" and tossed his fist into the air. Then from the stands, not yet void of loyal patrons of the game, there arose a muffled roar which resembled the beating of the storm-waves upon a stern and distant shore. "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone from behind home plate - and it's likely they'd have listened had not Torii turned and, with a smile of Christian charity, stilled the rising tumult with a gesture of his hand. The game resumed and Torii raised his bat; signaling the pitcher, he waited until the spheroid flew by again, but, as before, he ignored it; the umpire shouted gleefully, "Strike two!" "Fraud!" cried the maddened crowd, and the echo answered, "Fraud!" - and this time Torii reacted. No likening to a charitable smile flickered across his visage as he turned upon the ump, and with controlled politeness he proceeded to question Ripperger's salary, manhood, and vision. Of course, being an umpire, Ripperger decided to take it personally, and he curtly bid Torii hold his tongue and finish his at-bat. As Torii turned back to face the pitcher, he thought he discerned the words from Ripperger's mouth as he breathed heavily down Salvador's neck: "Just wait; you'll see me deal with this good-for-nothing smart aleck." On hearing this, the sneer disappeared from Torii's lip and was replaced with teeth clenched in hate as he pounded with cruel violence his bat upon the plate. And now the pitcher held the ball...and now he let it go...and leaning over Perez's back, Ripperger called Torii out on balls. Down went the bat and Torii was upon the umpire before he could even stop and congratulate himself on his success. However, with visible effort Torii restrained himself and managed to keep relatively cool while speaking the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (meanwhile dropping in a few magic words in appropriate places where they seemed to best belong). Rippenger had never seen the likes of it before, and will probably never see it again, either. Strongly sympathizing with his sorry self and letting his growing hatred for Torii get the better of him once more, he tore off his mask and tossed Hunter from the game. Now from the dugout came the skipper of the Twins. He knew that the umpire was getting out of control, and it was his duty as the oldest, wisest, and most mature man present to maintain the order at Target Field. He marched up to Ripperger and started to ask him to explain himself, but before he had a chance to get the first three words past his lips and to Ripperger's unwilling ear, he had been ejected as well. The scene that followed will go down in the books as one of the better post-ejection performances in the history of baseball. Tearing off his elbow pad, shin guard, and batting gloves, Torii hurled them one by one onto the ground near where Ripperger had been standing just moments before. As he dismissed each article as unworthy of adorning his infuriated being, the shouts from the stands grew louder. Here, they thought, was something worth seeing, sweep or no sweep. It wasn't every day that they got to see their rookie skipper ejected, and, even more interesting, they would never have thought ten minutes previously that they might get to see a major leaguer undress on the field...much less Torii Hunter. So amid combined boos and giggles, Torii clutched at the ends of his jersey and pulled it over his head. With a few more choice words of spiteful derision, he tossed it away as a final hurrah and returned to the dugout unassisted. Thus ends our story. I must say that I am impressed with Torii's rant. He carried it on just long enough to keep people excited and wondering what would happen next, but at the same time he stopped before anyone dreamed of turning their eyes to the night sky and therefore missing part of the enactment. He had left a lasting impression, and that was the whole point. He had a perfectly legitimate undershirt which could have joined the pile of dirty laundry, but he wisely chose to let it stop at that. He could have kept on going until he ran out of resources, but he knew that that would spoil the whole effect. It was better to leave while his antics were still being appreciated and just give the cameraman one parting glance as he stepped down into the dugout that said plainer than words, "You've had your fun, and now you're done." The man is a true genius; the Twins will be wise to make him their general manager when he grows up. --- Read full entry here: Torii at the Bat

The Twins’ home opening crowd gathered early in downtown, filling the area’s establishments with a hum that can only come from the exhilaration of skipping a day of responsibility in order to consume the first baseball game of the season in gorgeous weather. Even after several years of ineptitude and 90+ losses, Monday would still bring the first sellout at Target Field since August 2013 and all would be forgiven with a clean slate. Well, as clean as a one-and-five slate can be. Credit the Twins for doing the best they could to distract everyone with the new items around the ballpark. There were new bars, new food offerings, new drink rails, new hooded sweatshirts. But the festivities and feelgoodery would last only until the end of the seventh inning when it became clear that the same old problems exist.A mixture of poor defense, bad bullpen and unproductive chunks of the lineup would sink the Twins for their first home loss in 2015. Before the start of the game, Trevor Plouffe was asked if the team was looking for respite from the steady barrage of elite pitchers like David Price, Anibal Sanchez and Chris Sale. With a 2-for-19 start to his season, no one would fault the Twins’ third baseman for seeking more humane matchups. Plouffe just shook his head. “This is the big leagues and you gotta want to face those guys and if you don’t want to face those guys then you shouldn’t be here. We are also in a tough division for pitching and we have to face them all year.” After striking out in each of his first two at bats against Royals’ starter Danny Duffy, in the bottom of the seventh Plouffe launched Duffy’s 1-1 offering into the left field bleachers to bring the Twins within two. The home run would be his 36th at Target Field - the most by any hitter. Before the game Plouffe acknowledged that the team’s offensive shortcomings but believed there would be a feast at the end of the famine. “We obviously didn’t hit like we wanted to hit the first six games but I think that we’re going to be very capable and score some runs this year. So I don’t think anyone is going to be too worry about the way we started. We’d like to have hit better but we’re not worried about it.” Plouffe’s contribution on Monday would not be nearly enough to help starting pitcher Trevor May, who would pitch well but ultimately be undone by the stomach-turning performance from his defense behind him. In the third, Lorenzo Cain was able to score Salvador Perez on a sacrifice fly which was set up earlier in the inning by several middle infield misplays by Danny Santana and Brian Dozier. In the sixth, Cain doubled to right with Mike Moustakas on base. Cain moved up to third and Moustakas scored when Torii Hunter threw the ball back to the infield to simply no one in particular. In the following at-bat, Cain scored on Eric Hosmer’s deep drive to the spacious left-center field bullpen alley. Twins left fielder Oswaldo Arcia gave chase and covered just enough real estate to have the ball deflect off his glove at the wall. May left the game after 78 pitches and several effective innings with a scattering of a few hard hit balls, including Kendrys Morales’ 405' shot to right-center field. Manager Paul Molitor said he opted to remove him from the game after the Royals’ contact grew louder in the sixth despite the low pitch count. “All the guys behind me earned their way here and deserve to be here and I know everyone’s working and doing everything they can,” May said after the game refusing to place the blame on his teammates in the field. “Sometimes you just need them to hit it a little bit harder or softer.” Following Plouffe’s seventh inning home run, the Twins were within two but a six-run eighth inning put the game firmly out of reach. The inning was punctuated by two hit batsmen, a fumbled grounder by Danny Santana and four Twins pitchers needed to record three outs. When asked whether the defense of the game was concerning to him, Molitor was straightforward. “We just have to play better.” Easier said than done around these parts as the defensive blunders are more of the same for the Twins. Sunday’s matinee in Chicago featured several routine plays fall that general manager Terry Ryan called out during his pregame media session. “We gave them way too many outs. Ironically they didn’t come back and hurt us, the three misses,” Ryan said of Eduardo Nunez, Eduardo Escobar and Kurt Suzuki’s inability to catch pop flies. True, Sunday’s White Sox game mistakes did not hurt but the Royals took their ounce of flesh like good teams do. Continuing the trend of giving away outs -- either because of fielding miscues or because of inferior coverage -- will be painful. The Twins entered Monday’s game as one of the worst teams at turning batted balls into outs. Only the Yankees and the Dodgers have converted fewer balls into outs. Based on a seven game sample, this team has a lot of repairs to make before it will be able to win games consistently. As far as the home opener goes, at least the weather was good. Click here to view the article