The Twins take the field tomorrow for the first time in 2013's regular season. It'd be an awful lot easier to find some hope for the year if the snow wasn't so stubborn in getting off of my lawn.
Starting tomorrow, I'm going to record my impression of every Twins baseball game on this, my TwinsDaily blog. I'm taking a page from Stephen King and Stewart O'Nan, who documented a Red Sox season in their book Faithful.
Red Sox won the World Series when they wrote that book.
I've been married for over ten years, so trying to find an emotional connection with this group of Minnesota Twins pitchers is really hard for me.
Let me explain.
Trying to keep up with the Twins players getting their innings in on the mound feels like trying to keep up with a string of bland blind dates that almost - but don't quite - squash the hope right out of your heart.
I know this from single friends. It sounds like there's always something to like
I've liked Cory Provus from day one. The man calls a good ballgame. He doesn't oversell the drama. He sounds like baseball ought to.
Since I've permanently ditched cable for the radio, I've been spending a lot more time listening to Mr. Provus. My opinion hasn't changed.
However, I've begun to notice something.
He's really funny.
He isn't flashy about it. He's not about loud voices, zingers, or crazy stories. I can't quote
While I was moping behind my snowblower, I noticed an unusual formation of snow. I turned off the machine and stepped closer to it.
The identify of those piles of snow became clear. You've seen them before, too. They're the smiling, handshaking baseball players whose image lights up when Twins players hit home runs. The players looked at me as if they were waiting for me to speak.
"Who will these 2013 Twins be?" I asked. "Who can I cheer for? Who can I believe
Weather reports tell me something wicked this way comes. I've got two gallons of gas for the snowblower and just enough left in my own tank to dig out from this one.
Downtown, Target Field better be ready. Come April, we're all coming over to watch the game.
With the weather waiting to pummel us yet again, how many of us are imagining a Wintery Wasteland Opening Day nightmare? Ever since they announced the stadium, the truly pessimistic of have smirked small, bitter smirks
I think Twins magic begins with a car radio, a commute of erratic, skidding traffic, and staring at the sun while waiting for red lights.
Returning to baseball life is a greater gift to the fans living in places where the offseason is covered in snow and loneliness.
When the bat cracks and the crowd cheers, we know the small city filled with red- and blue-clad fans will be born around Target Field. There will be beer, hugs, and shouting.
At that moment, the