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Sunk in Atlanta - Twins at Braves (Games 41-43)

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Twins at Braves

Gimme Danger? (Game 41)

Bad night in the US outside of baseball. Tornados took a chunk out of the country again, leaving too many dead (no matter the number) and many of the rest battling post-disaster financial hardship like it was a kind of cancer. For those affected, this will be a mile marker for the rest of their lives.

Sadly, but less tragically, Doors’ keyboardist Ray Manzarek died.

The Doors were dangerous rock and roll. They made music fearlessly, and when they were beautiful, it was almost a side effect. Like baseball, they go great with beer.

I could’ve used a little more dangerous rock and roll with my Twins game tonight. You can tell the tale in two sentences.

Four runs given up in the first. Nothing to write home about after that.

It takes talent and brains to win ball games: that rare combo of dedicated training and calculated application of skills to situations.

So if the Twins can’t win the Twins way, maybe we oughta get a little gritty out there.

How many wins does being creepy out there add to a season? Is their a Mad Hungarian stat floating around somewhere?

Fair in Foul Weather (Game 42)

Except for Plouffe’s unfortunate injury, all I remember about this game is being sure they would win and Perkins would get the save until I always knew Perkins would biff the save and the Twins stood no chance.

I think with my brain but I cheer with my guts and heart. I believe in statistics, but when I’m watching as a fan the Twins are going to win it all at the World Series and lose every game from here on out – often in the same inning.

Losing Plouffe to a play at second splintered Twitter into individual statements of fear and worry. After last year’s never-ending stream of injuries, there’s no joy in Twinsville.

The new car smell is gone, and all of us fans are pointing out the dents and dings while we sigh aloud.

The Wheels Come Off (Game 43)

Cheering for a successful Twins season (including the very humble Break-Evening) involved great suspension of disbelief from the first pitch.

Today I heard the Twins were behind before I even knew they started playing.

I didn’t tune back into the game until it was over. Dan Gladden and everyone else sounded mad about the game. Like, someone brought a complete jerk of a date to Christmas dinner mad.

Even with my fan blinders firmly in place, I felt the season drop like an upset stomach. Embarrassing on-field promotions are coming. It will be more cost efficient to wallpaper your house with Twins tickets than newspaper.

Okay, so? I overreact.

At least I got to see Liriano pitch a solid game for the Pirates. He threw the baseball up, down, and everywhere, but someone Frankie K got it working tonight. I miss him.

One last thing: The Tomahawk Chop is still a thing? Imagine if someone tried to start it at a high school baseball game and it got caught on camera.

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