Holding a Handful of Water (Twins 7 White Sox 5 – Game 66)

As a kid, I used to fill my cupped palm with water to see how long I could hold onto it. No matter how steady I held my hand, the water always slipped away.

I grew up Iowa. We made our own fun and we liked it.

As an adult Twins fan, the feeling returns to me. Game after game I see the Minnesota team find a big inning – like their four run first inning – and then slowly let it slide through their fingers.

The tall tale used to be that the Twins managed the infield like an enchanted bear trap. Now I’m just happy if they give up fewer than four runs a game.

Doumit came up clutch again, and I’m loving that. Doumit would be a great hero for devout Twins fans to reminisce about for winter after winter. He’s scrappy and he’s 99.9% rock and roll. He might not get his own verse in the Ballad of 2013, but he deserves a mention.

Late Inning Seepage (Twins 7 White Sox 4 – Game 67)

Something sickening about watching runs go up in the late innings against the Twins.

This game is about Justin Morneau breaking a homerless streak and giving out imaginary high-fives in the dugout.

And it’s about trying to find my hatred for the White Sox.

I miss really hating a baseball team. I’m too old to believe in evil super villains and demons summoned by a golden puzzle box.

I don’t believe in that the rag-tag, plucky team of ballplayers beat the richer, stronger team from across town, either.

Used to be different. I used to listen to games on the radio and tell my brother-in-law “Don’t worry, the Twins find a way.” And I would be RIGHT so much of the time.

When those Twins from the past beat the White Sox, it was like Smaug taking a nosedive.

No need to give up hope. Maybe I can work up some bile and brimstone for the Yankees.

All Day on All Days (Twins 8 White Sox 4 - Game 68)

Like a vampire in reverse, baseball is more powerful in the daylight.

In fact, regular daylight living might be what’s sucking the life out of everyone. Everything’s so convenient we have to have hissyfits about the three seconds of life we lost when someone cut us off in traffic.

You can handle your money with a human-free drive-thru. Not even the billboards stand still these days.

But when the Twins play a day game, something heroic has a chance to enter into your bumper-to-bumper, quickie cell phone check kind of day.

There’s the tale of Oswaldo Arcia, who came to the pros fully formed and ready. I’m quite partial to Arcia – when I heard John Bonnes praising him on Gleeman and the Geek I got mad someone else had noticed him.

There’s the awkwardness of Jared Burton’s struggles (and the aforementioned Arcia dropping a ball didn’t help out here) and his redemption in closing at the game.

More compelling than wondering if you’re driving past the chain restaurant in your neighborhood or the exact same restaurant two cities over, isn’t it?