Losing to Traffic AND the Marlins (Twins 2 Marlins 4 - Game 72)
Began the drive home with the Twins down by two runs and an unexpected optimism they could pull this thing off. Maybe getting a phone call from my wife informing me we had power after a 91 hour drought made me sentimental. Maybe it was seeing Minnesotans looking over piles of chopped wood, proud to have survived another beating from Mother Nature.
My hope didn’t die when then Twins attempts to score a run died on the basepaths, like floodwaters cresting before the top of a dam. I carried those hopes with me into the Chipotle and temporarily forget them while trying to order fast enough for the rapid-fire burrito assembly line. Ordering Chipotle during a supper rush is not for the faint of heart.
I turned the key and heard Kris Atteberry’s voice. This was a potentially disastrous omen, as Atteberry is the voice of the post-game recap. He mentioned some other scores and then, false alarm, the game was back on. At least when the Twins do lose, he always finds something unique to focus his wrap-up on. He’s like a grandpa trying to cheer up a kid who just lost a scoop of ice cream to gravity.
Thielbar kept his 0.00 ERA. It’s got to be good to be him right now. He beat the odds and now he’s conquering the world, holding onto that baseball like a bloody battle axe. Odds are he can’t rule that mound forever, but right now he’s king of the hill until someone changes the tune. There’s no better feeling than cheating death and inevitability.
Around this time, the world’s loudest whistler blasted a serviceable rendition of “Charge!” . . . and then things got weird. The whistler kept right on whistling, until the tune went all free form jazz. From there, the whistling went mad like a hatter and he kept on tooting and shrieking away, presumably hoping someone would slap him on the back to stop the noises forever. I fear this whistler may still be whistling, in the dark, unable to stop.
I think the Twins’ batters came up to the plate in the 9th, but not so anyone with an untrained eye would’ve noticed. Then, Kris Atteberry came on with a the real wrap up and I brought supper in to my wife. The Twins lost, and somehow gave up one more run than I had noticed. I had hoped for nothing.
But somehow, hoping and being wrong didn’t kill me. That might be worth remembering for next time.
Magically Ineffective (Twins 3 Marlins 5 - Game 73)
I didn’t turn the radio on because the Twins were up by three.
This makes sense, you see. Because if I listened to the Twins play out the rest of the game, I’d have to hear them ground out and fly out and strike out and poop out. Then, there’d be a home run or two and we’d lose.
But if I stopped listening, the Twins would forget to choke. The game would proceed in a straight, uneventful line until the Twins win and The Most Wonderous Crown of BreakEvening was in our hands.
Truly, I believed this would work.
It didn’t, of course. My phone coughed and I got a text saying the Twins had breathed their last breath in Miami, where all of about four people probably witnessed it. If they’d have won that game, I would’ve been sure it was because I didn’t jinx them. Since they lost, I get to settle in for a long night of being a sucker. Awesome.