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Axel Kohagen

What Games? Twins at Indians.

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Department of Water and Power (Twins 1 Indians 5 Game 69)
Itís really easy to forget about a baseball game when you open up your blinds to see water slapping into your window like gravity made a 90 degree mistake.

Weekend baseball series are like a family cookout you can take with you on the car stereo. When the Twins are out of town, the cookout covers the Twin Cities and keeps going. You can ask strangers in blue and red for a score and theyíll tell you. If your biological family is far away, Twins Territory never is.

That said, the rain announced something bigger than baseball was coming, and then the power dropped out. Somewhere in between the storm and the silence, my phone informed the Twins had already lost. At least I wouldnít have that to fret about.

Sometime around 1 AM, my wife and I took to the roads to get ice, water, and batteries. I wondered what would have happened if the storm hit when the Twins were holding court in Target Field. I donít think I even looked to see if the lights were on. Seeing that place dark just breaks my heart.

Kick in the Pants (Twins 7 Indians 8 - Game 70)

I expect the power to come back on within two hours of it going out. Iím not saying this is realistic, but itís true for me. I donít even get worried; I just know I have to wait two hours and the power will come back on.

The Twins took the field 24 hours after power went out, and my house was powerless. I was powerless. The Target I went to for candles and trail mix was half-powerless, and the freezer section was a casualty of the storm.

I bought a brick of batteries to put in a twelve-year-old portable radio. One trip out of the house had brought me from the Stone Age to the 1980s. I could set the radio outside, put my feet up on a lawn chair, and listen to the Twins play.

Except P.J. Walters spoiled the evening I was brewing. If I had power in my house, Iíd be scouring Twitter and the Internet beyond for reasons why before I really let myself cuss him out for all those walks. Rendered powerless, I was forced to give him the benefit of the doubt.

There are parts about not having electricity Iíve learned to enjoy. Reading Games of Thrones by candlelight seemed rather fitting, which was a blessing. I downed 500 pages of that book while killing time. I like holding my flashlight like a cop and pretending like Iím in a late 90s suspense/thrill when I go downstairs. I even get to watch the cars driving past my window and imagine flipping off the ones Iím pretty sure have electricity.

Moseying into Town (Twins 4 Indians 3 - Game 71)

The Twins won, but I didnít notice until afterwards. Weíre still powerless, and I keep losing track of time without having a cell phone clock to check.
I caught the postgame show in my car on the way from a trip into civilization to fill my saddlebags with power for my batteries. Then, at home, I caught Gleeman and the Geek on my portable radio as I stared at my Stariní Tree and hoped I had enough juice to finish my game recap while itís still fresh in mind.

Iím such a cry-baby. Couple days without tech toys and I feel like Major League Baseball is sailing away from me across the seven seas. This is just a temporary loss of obsessive electronic fandom. Gone is the illusion I can harness the entire game in my head, the moment it happens.

Now, when Iím gazing at my Stariní Tree, I imagine the game in my head. These mental phantoms arenít real, and they canít be analyzed. Still, thereís an added heroic element to these daydreams, as if boyhood dreams came home at last.


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