2006 TWINS BLOGCommentary on the hometown team, in running journal fashion. I haven’t the time or the talent to construct any cohesive columns about the team. Hence, this silly blog-type thing. Mostly random and probably pointless.
What some of you may know: I attended today's Twins game, which marked the fourth postseason game I've attended in my life. Another thing some of you may know: I'm a diehard Twins fan, which isn't really interesting or surprising by any means, but still worth noting. What most of you probably do not know: I have I have a pseudo-photographic memory (don't worry, it's a relevant point). No kidding. I can recall distinct memories from 15 years ago. I remember a conversation I had with my uncle when I was four, the meal that was served the one time I had school lunch during kindergarten (a cheeseburger I ignored), a school assignment from second grade, my mile-run time in fourth grade (7:44). I could provide numerous more examples, but I won’t. Point is, I don’t forget much of anything. My family is constantly freaked out at my ability to retain such useless information from the past. What can I say -- it’s a gift. So considering my detailed memory and boundless love for the Twins, one would assume I’d be able to rattle off meticulous recollections from each of my previously attended Twins playoff games. I cannot. In fact, I remember precisely one distinct moment from each game. Not zero, not two, but one. This is by no means an exaggeration. My first postseason experience was game 1 of the 1991 ALCS against the Toronto Blue Jays. My research shows that Jack Morris was the victor of a hard-fought 5-4 battle that saw three errors by the Blue Jays and no homeruns for either team. I watched nearly every pitch that season and was as close to obsessed with a team as I’ll ever be; I memorized statistics, held my own during debates over managerial decisions – in fact, I’m betting I could’ve rattled off even the birthdays of most of the roster. So having the opportunity to actually attend a playoff game was pretty much the most exciting thing I’d ever done in my life. And all I remember is one harmless fly ball. My grandpa and I were seated in the upper deck down the left field line, which in the Dome provides an unusual viewing angle that I’d previously not experienced. One of the Blue Jays hit a high fly ball, and from my seat I swore it was headed toward Dan Gladden in left field. When it finally came down, it was an infield fly to the right side. I found the angle curious, and for some reason, every other thing that day escapes me. My second playoff game came a few weeks later: game 2 of the World Series. Most people will remember this as the tight 3-2 victory that included Chili Davis’s two-run homer in the first inning, as well as Kent Hrbek’s infamous hard tag on Ron Gant. As for me, the only thing I recall is watching Scott Leius’s game-winning homerun in the eighth inning. It’s a fleeting, four-second memory of watching the ball fly into the leftfield stands among a sea of white. I can still visualize it, but in terms of that game, it’s all I’ve got. Thirteen years later, my sister, brother, then-girlfriend and I were given tickets by our parents to attend an ALDS game against the New York Yankees. We were somewhere in the upper deck, where exactly I don’t recall. I can’t remember an iota of the game, but my research tells me the Twins were leading 5-2 going into the 8th inning. The only moment I actually do remember is Ruben Sierra hitting a go-ahead homerun off Juan Rincon to complete their late-inning comeback and ruin the rest of my day. And, I swear to god, it is the only damn thing I remember about that entire game. Clearly, something is wrong with my brain. But I can’t deny these memories, and the lack of others, which is why I know that the only moment I’m ever going to remember about today’s loss to the A’s is Torii Hunter’s ill-fated dive on Mark Kotsay’s eventual inside-the-park homerun. I want to forget, but I just can’t. It is already singed into my memory. And I know it’s not going away. The Twins had fought back to draw the game to a 2-2 tie, they were just about out of the 7th inning and had all the momentum on their side. The Dome was pulsating with cheers; loyal fans bustling with playoff fever. Kotsay’s looping liner into short center looked harmless off the bat – there was only a runner on first base, so worst case scenario, the A’s would have men on first and second with two gone in the inning – so I expected Torii to stop short, let the ball bounce in front of him and chuck it into the infield. A simple bloop single. No harm done. But Torii got a great jump and started sprinting in, really going hard, just kept hustling after it, hustling, really busting his ass to catch up to the ball, and it really was hanging in the air longer than expected, just a little white pill pausing mid-flight, holy shit Torii might actually get to this, just keep going, keep running, getting closer, closer, motherfucker he might make this play …. Until, of course, he didn’t. We saw him dive forward, and then watched as the ball squirted by him. It skipped lazily all the way to the center field wall, Cuddyer and the relay men unable to get it in until Kotsay had rounded the bases. By the time Mauer got the ball, Kotsay was high-fiving teammates and I was sitting in my chair with my head in my hands. And I’m never going to forget that play. That reality is hard to swallow. For all his ups and downs, Torii has been an absolute force for the organization. What with his fearless outfield play, outgoing personality and occasional red-hot hitting streaks, the man doesn’t deserve for this to be the defining play of his Twins career. But in all likelihood, that’s the one by which he’ll be remembered. I hope I’m the only one with this memory already burning the backs of my eyelids, but something tells me I’m not. As for me, I’m hoping my brain actually allows me to retain more than just one memory this time around. I’d like to remember the giddy walk to the Dome with my family and roommate, the swollen masses of people entering the ballpark, the gutsy performance by Boof, the cheers from the crowd, the sight of Morneau’s mammoth homerun clanging off the seats in right field. I want to have a bear-trap mind that’d soak in every last second of the game – save for the woman in front of me who allowed her daughter to blow on a harmonica for an entire half inning. The rest, though, I want to keep. I don’t care that they lost, that they played like crap for the second straight game, that they’re in a hole only one team in history has dug itself out of. I don’t want Torii’s misguided dive to be my only memory from the game. I want more. But I know all too well how my flawed brain functions. And that’s the play I’ll be taking to the grave with me. On the plus side, I’ve got a ticket for Sunday’s potential game five. Here’s hoping that dive is soon greeted by another sole memory, perhaps of a series-winning celebration. Now that’d be something I’d actually enjoy remembering.
A’s 3, Twins 2. Well, that was a complete letdown. Wasted home-field advantage, wasted a solid start from Johan. Down one game to zero, the Twins will have to take three of the next four to avoid getting knocked out of the postseason by the A’s. But we all know that. We don’t need to rehash the numbers. What I can’t get over was the damn disappointment of the whole thing. Just like that, the Twins went from the fun-loving favorites to a squad full of fellas woefully out of their element. In a game that was theirs for the taking, the M&M boys were non-existent, Torii misplaced his hot streak, Punto reverted to his flail-happy past self and Bartlett looked like someone had shoved a bat handle up his ass before the game. They chased pitches, made errors, failed to move runners over. Gardy panicked and tried to steal a gimpy Luis Castillo in the first inning. He panicked again by bringing in Crain in the ninth, a move that caused the entire state of Minnesota to scratch its collective head even before the towering shot by the Big Hurt. It’s not that the Twins lost, it’s how they lost. By looking like a bunch of nervous wrecks. Remember when the Twins played like surefire winners, keeping cool no matter the score, making even the losses interesting? Remember how they clawed at their nose after every ribbie, like a bunch of cokeheads asking the bench-mates to draw ‘em up another line? The team with a lineup half full of players who started the season in the minors? The team that sat on the bench Sunday watching the Royals spank the Tigers on the big screen with the rest of the fans, which caused you to smile and mention that no other team would do such a thing, that there’s no way these guys can’t win it all, not with all they’ve been through this season, what with the injuries and mid-season lineup shuffling and impossible schedule? Remember those Twins? Well, that wasn’t the squad that showed up Tuesday. The national stage brought out the bed-wetters in the entire lineup. Let’s hope they can find a spark and find it soon, because it’d be a damn shame to end the most memorable season in franchise history losing to a team with half the talent and barely an iota the personality. Let’s hope they loosen up, remember to play with the swagger that got ‘em there, and forget all about Tuesday’s game. I’ll try to do so as well. Because that was just no fun at all. *** I’ll be at the game Wednesday, so be sure to check back for another recap.
If I may speak on behalf of all Minnesota Twins fans, I’d like to breathe a state-wide sigh of relief before uttering in the direction of Twins management a heated “finally.” The Powers That Be have finally (at least at this point) given up on the bargain-priced vets and turned the game over to the youngsters. Rondell White, Tony Batista and Juan Castro – the three-headed brute that’s been giving me nightmares since Opening Day – have been supplanted in the lineup in favor of the kiddie squad. And I -- no, we -- say, finally. To recap the damage: Kubel has been handed a starting spot ahead of Rondell White (who’s still getting PT ‘til Stewart returns), Batista’s been replaced by, well, anyone, and Castro has been relegated to the backup role behind Jason Bartlett. All signs are pointing to a significant lineup improvement, but even if the new guys don’t quite step it up…it can’t get any worse. At least now the next generation is getting some big league experience. Great news, right? Well, yes and no. In a point I already sarcastically touched on in one of my throwaway Deadspin comments, this replacement of White, Castro and Batista with Kubel, Bartlett and who-the-fuck-ever would be a shrewd coaching decision…if the calendar read April. We are, unfortunately, firmly entrenched in June Gloom, a time when our Twinkies find themselves playing decent ball but still remain on the wrong side of the .500 mark. I don’t even want to get into how many games out of first they currently sit. Point is, the battle is an uphill one, and at present time a playoff appearance looks to be nearly impossible. Gardenhire’s slow trigger finger likely cost the ’06 Twins any odd shot at the postseason they may have had. So there’s the rub; our very own “Facts of Life” scenario. You take the good, you take the bad. And even with the recent upswing in play, fans probably have a right to bellyache for the remainder of the campaign. But, at least for me, looking at the big picture…playoff scenario or no, I have to admit I’m enthused. That's me, standing on the sunny side of the street. We’re cheering on our gifted young ballers Mauer, Franny, Morneau, Boof, Kubel and Bartlett like we wanted all along. Probably the most talented young teammates in the game, I’d venture. And sure, the team got off to a putrid start, but the pieces seem to be in place for an enjoyable – well, at least watchable – rest of the summer. A watchable team; shouldn’t that be all that matters? That’s the mood I’m currently wearing. I don’t need the Twins to win it all to make the season worthwhile (that’s a viewpoint that should be exclusive to the players), I just want to enjoy following them, a carefree fan never questioning whether I’m wasting my time. I had a friend sum it up best by saying, “I just want the Twins to be decent. If they suck, it kind of ruins the whole summer.” That’s my point. Pennants are a bonus; all I ask for is a respectable showing. Buncha fellas who play the game right. And with the recent lineup shuffling, the Twins seem to have the squad to do it. No White, no Batista, no Castro. Finally. To set the scene: during tonight's Twins game in Anaheim, American Idol contestant Ace Young stopped up into the FSN booth for an interview with Dick Bremer and Bert Blyleven. After a brief moment of awkward silence, Blyleven blurted out, "Let's talk about Paula Abdul ... Did you get lucky with her?" I am speechless. Utterly speechless.
Today I shall dip into my mail sack to answer a query from a loyal reader. B, What's with Twins fans booing J.C. Romero? I know he was erratic at times, but seriously, name 3 lefty set-up guys in baseball better than him. The Twins were lucky to have him. This isn't the first time Twins fans have booed a former Twin for no reason at all other than he is on a different team now. Your thoughts? - Gates Well, first off, I’ll submit that booing anyone at a sports event, for any reason, is lame. Sports fans that devote that much energy to voicing their disgust at someone they don’t even know is silly, useless, and unnecessary. I mean, what is the end goal? I wonder if the boo-birds actually believe the athlete will think to himself, “You know, this jeering is quite unpleasant. Maybe I should consider what I’ve done to warrant such an unwelcome response from my constituents. These boos have certainly opened my eyes as to the sins I’ve committed.” Reality check, fans: athletes don’t give a shit if they’re booed. It doesn’t make them reassess their behavior and it doesn’t make them perform any worse at their sport. Your insults are falling on deaf ears, and serve only to embarrass yourself. However, if we’re going to consider what players are boo-able in a boo-friendly world, I wouldn’t say J.C. is the worst guy at which to hurl insults. Consider the justification: 1. Romero did not pitch well at all last season, allowing damn near every inherited runner possible. His 3.47 ERA was highly misleading. And since the Twins fell woefully short of their expectations, I suspect many fans see J.C. as one of the (many) reasons. I know I do. 2. He got in a few scuffles with Gardenhire last season. Now, I don’t recall him as ever being known as an out-and-out jerkoff, but considering the unnecessary ‘tude directed at Gardy, plus the fact that he never seemed to warm up to the media and fans…he just didn’t really seem to enjoy being a Twin. He was on the team for seven years (which is forever in this day-n-age) but always struck me as a guy who was eager to fly the coop. Minnesotans like their ballplayers to be the gregarious types who at least pretend to enjoy their time here. And since Romero requested to be traded, you just know the people who were offended that he left (“why would he ever want to leave this glorious place?”) were the same ones booing him. 3. Did you ever once feel comfortable when J.C. entered the game? I did not. Even when he was at the top of his game in 2001, I don’t recall ever thinking, “alright, they’re bringing in Romero, this thing’s over.” I was mostly like, “throw strikes throw strikes throw strikes oh please God just get out of the inning throw strikes.” And while that doesn’t make him a bad pitcher, and certainly doesn’t justify the jeers, I think the edginess felt by the fans throughout J.C.’s tenure left a bad taste in their mouth. 4. For most of Romero’s time here, he was lauded as the most talented pitcher on the team. Everyone from Tom Kelly to the current coaching staff said as much, repeatedly. That’s quite an honor, especially in an organization with so many quality arms. Considering the fact that he never lived up to his potential is highly frustrating for the fans. Especially if he finds the magic once he moves to another team, which both you and I know should serve as an indictment of the Twins pitching coach, but would probably just result in more insults flung at J.C. 5. His finely-manicured facial hair was always a bit unnerving. Minnesotans generally get a bit freaked out around metrosexuals. Trust me on this. Again, I’m not saying any of these are just causes to jeer a professional athlete for having the nerve to be traded to another organization after having the audacity to not be awesome for the hometown team, but I can see these factors resulting in J.C. becoming boo-worthy in some too-serious fans’ minds. Such is life.
Three games this past weekend, three different viewing experiences. I went to the game Friday night, watched the game alone on my beloved couch Saturday, and took in Sunday’s matinee with my family members as we celebrated the resurrection of Jesus H. Christ by eating chocolate and shouting His name in vain at the television screen. Below are a few thoughts from the series (which, by the way, the Twins won 2-1 over Bizarro Ruth and the Evil Empire, much to the shock of experts and my Yankee-loving co-worker, who shrugged the series off as New York simply not taking the Twins seriously. God I love detached bitterness.). FRIDAY But what’s most unfortunate, at least in my opinion, is the missed subtleties of the game. Especially in a game like Friday night, with six total runs scored (five for the good guys, by the way) and no homeruns. The key to baseball’s, how do you saw, awesomeness, is its subtle nuances. The varying-speed pitching of Scotty Baker, the plate discipline of Young Joe Mauer, the nipped corners, the ugly swings, the close calls, Jason Giambi's "I wish I were still in Oakland" face … those things just can’t be captured in person. Of course, it didn’t help that I was standing roughly 600 feet from home plate in the left-center field upper deck. Boy, that was all kinds of lackluster. I haven’t sat that high at a sporting event since my teenage years, when my friends and I would purposely head to the nosebleeds to get away from our square parents so we could say things like “Matt Walbeck is a douchebag,” or “Scott Stahoviak is, like, a total fag,” or “mark my words, Offspring is going to be the Led Zeppelin of our time.” The mid-90s were a confusing time for all of us. At least this time around I was old enough to buy beer. (And buy beer I did. After the game, when my pals and I headed to a bar to meet my cousin and her friend, the friend asked my cousin a few minutes after meeting me, in all sincerity, if I was “a little slow.” I shit you not. It’s one thing to be drunk, but it’s another thing altogether to genuinely be perceived as being mentally handicapped. This much is true: Friday night marked a new low in my life.) SATURDAY Thrilling finish aside, the game was excellent from beginning to end; a superb baseball game no matter how you slice it. The Twins jumped out to an early 4-0 lead with some solid hitting and decent pitching, only to see the lead – and Johan’s shot at his first victory – erased when Jesse Crain (my least favorite Canadian right now, surpassing former Blue Jay and Twin-killer Ernie Whitt) took the mound and promptly gave up three hits in a row. I coulda done that, fer chrissakes. Down 5-4, the few innings leading up to the ninth were fairly uneventful (besides another unreal performance from phenom Franny Liriano), which was okay because it allowed me the time to create a Jesse Crain voodoo doll. After a tense top o’ da ninth that included a marathon 13-pitch at-bat to Sheff (ending in a strikeout), it was on to the bottom of the ninth and eventual jeans-cream-inducing game-winning hit from Morneau (my most favorite Canadian right now, temporarily surpassing Elisha Cuthbert). The Twins celebration following the game-winner was filled with more unabashed glee than I’ve ever seen after a regular season game, including a hilarious "well there's no one else around so we might as well" hug between Mauer and Luis Castillo. They were running around and embracing with a fervor usually reserved for postseason affairs. Normally I’d frown upon such emotional behavior, decrying it as silly, unnecessary, and, frankly, a bit pathetic. Succumbing to emotions is cancerous to a baseball player, so ordinarily…not a good sign to celebrate so overtly. Plus, it’s almost like saying, “ohmahgaw, we actually beat the Yankees! I can’t believe it! They are so awesome and we actually won!” Better to act as if you’ve done it before, and as if you were supposed to win all along. Saturday’s glee, however, can be forgiven. Not only was it against the best closer in the game – one of the best ever, in fact – but it (a) continued a winning streak, (b) made up for the two previous strikeouts in the inning, which were devastating at the time, and (c) came in an at-bat when they were down by a run, not merely tied. If that ball gets caught, there’s no extra innings, no series victory, no celebration. Just another blown opportunity by a young team not quite ready to take its place at the big boy table. Instead? Game-winning hit; unmitigated hog-piling ensues. And I’ll allow it, just this once. You wanna hug each other like you just wrapped up game seven? You wanna jump around, slap asses, bump knuckles, get a little frisky in the shower? Hey, it’s your world, Twins. We just live in it. SUNDAY
As of this writing, the Minnesota Twins boast a 4-5 record and are coming off a sweep of the highly-regarded Oakland A’s. After a rough first week of play, the Twins have rebounded with three straight wins by playing rock-solid baseball. The bats have come alive (including Jesus freak Tony Batista, causing the entire state of Minnesota to collectively eat its own words) -- knocking out 34 hits the past three games -- and the pitchers have turned in decent, if unremarkable, outings. The Twins outplayed the supposed powerhouse A’s in nearly every facet. Stat by stat, the Twins were the superior team. And because of their play, they are currently on what we in the biz call a “winning streak.” I know, I know -- I can’t believe it either. Now, I’m not yet going to anoint the Twins as official World Series contenders. The season, she’s a marathon, and one April sweep doesn’t mean a whole lot in the grand scheme. Not to mention, there are a handful of AL teams with both a better record and a more talented squad than our Twins, so they’ve got along way to go. Hell, they aren’t even to .500 yet. That said, the sweep of the A’s was remarkably important for this team and its fans. For the first time this season, we were able to see how good the team can be. Before, we weren’t sure, and for good reasons. The 2006 Twins are fielding a squad laden with question marks; some players are getting old, some are injury-prone, some are unproven and some are downright sub-par. No one really knew what to expect of this year’s team. During the offseason, we sat around ticking off the “ifs” necessary to be competitive. If Stewart returns to form, and if Castillo can put the ball in play, and if Morneau can hit for power, and if Liriano match his potential…if all that happens, then maybe we can compete, right? We did this constantly, and the ifs were always different. After the performance this past series, we can definitively say that, yes, the Twins can compete. Not saying they will, but at least we know they can. We’ve seen all the puzzle pieces in place (with the exception of Rondell White, the most snakebitten hitter in recent memory), and the team looked nasty. Thus, my mood ring is currently sporting a hue signifying “cautious optimism.” Of course, in a week from now I just may have cursed the Twins and left them for dead. So you never know. ********** Random game notes: > Interesting Twins stats: Luis Castillo is the only starter with more walks than strikeouts.....Shannon Stewart has more RBIs than Joe Mauer (solidifying my theory that the Twins would be better with Castillo leading off, Mauer batting second and Stewart following him).....Lew Ford is hitless so far but still has a better OBP than Rondell White. > You almost have to feel for Kyle Lohse. The guy’s been a regular starter in the league for four seasons, and all of a sudden he’s on the verge of losing his rotation spot to a supposed phenom five years his junior with virtually no big league experience. Talk about unwelcome pressure. Today Lohse took the hill and actually turned in a strong performance (6 innings, 2 runs), only to have Francisco Liriano – said phenom – follow him with a performance that was absolutely lights out. Two innings pitched, five strikeouts. We fans were in Lohsey’s corner for about ten minutes (“hey, maybe this guy isn’t so bad!”), only to hop right back on the Liriano bandwagon the very next inning (“Aw, screw Lohse, Liriano is the shit!”). I wouldn’t feel too much sympathy though; if Lohse wasn’t so piss poor he wouldn’t even be part of the discussion. Scotty Baker would be the one on the blocks. > Speaking of Liriano, I wonder what it was like for him to face Frank Thomas today. Thomas is a first-ballot Hall of Famer, a guy who was dominant year in and year out while Liriano was just a wee lad. And today, when Liriano pitched against him…I mean, it wasn’t even fair. Thomas is old and chunky and has no bat speed, whereas Liriano is one of the most talented pitchers in the game. The result? Not good for Thomas. Not good at all. Liriano was so much better than the Big Hurt he probably felt bad for the old man. He blew the first two pitches right by Thomas and was probably all, “oh man, that was too easy. Damn, I feel bad. Look at him standing up there. Poor guy. He doesn’t have a chance in hell of making contact. I could probably blow a medicine ball by him at this point. Maybe I should ease up a bit, serve one up to the guy. We’re killing this team, what’s the harm?” Of course, he struck him out two pitches later, so he may not have been thinking those things at all. Maybe it was just me. I suppose that’s a possibility.
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