What is there to do?

[Werner Herzog]

The inarticulate majesty of suffering. One wonders, after so many minuscule failures, if the lost season is a metaphor for something beyond the human capacity for pain. I prefer to watch the game from the highest corners of the stadium, where the players appear as tiny shadows on a vast green plain, stripped of their celebrity. It is a paradox to view the game this way. From here, the players no longer seem like players, nor men. Instead, I feel as if I am watching atomic particles scramble chaotically through their molecular orbits. Gazing upon the activities, I cannot overcome the sensation that I am staring into my own fingerprints, that I am lost in the elegant swirls of human individuality, afraid that the fact of my skin has erased me as a person.

 

Can an entire group of men go simultaneously insane?

 

A ball drops, and two shadows go after it, until one of them obtains it and flings it back toward the nucleus of the game. I soon leave, unaware of the particulars--who has won, and who has lost. But these facts seem incidental. I walk instead through an inescapable vortex, aware that I myself am more shadow than man, one constituent of the unruly cosmos governing our realities--the game is a cell composed of cells, of which I myself am one and many, and the universe is the entirety, the grand conqueror staring upon the world from the darkened recesses of being.

[TheHoff]

Best. Post. Ever

[Pardon My Dinger]

Wunderbar. Simlply wunderbar.

[Han Joelo]

And then TC bear went and ate all the players.

 

"The silver-tipped ûrsus horriblisˆ could contain its primal instincts no longer.  Where, in all the epochs of history had prey been so ready?  So ripe for the taking?  These pink and brown skinned men were like elk in a dew-tipped vale, standing with vacuous expressions, the smell of fear and defeat a palpable essence permeating the crisp spring air.  The smell was crisp, like bacon sizzling in a cast iron frying pan, or perhaps more like chicken, juicing and dripping on a spit.  

 

The bear doffed its hat and sprung into action.  The big, lumbering right fielder was first; it's arm whacked his thick hide at 80 grade strength to no avail.  Had the meal been 260 pounds as advertised, the bears appetite may have been sated, but the extra 15 pounds only served to invigorate the beasts passion for flesh.  The blind first-basemen was next, he patiently waited for a second chance to run that never came.

 

In a clockwise fashion, the carnage continued, finishing with the center fielder, who, had he chosen a better route, might have escaped the now tiring bear.  But alas, he got a poor break and the beast cut him off as he futiley zig-zagged his way through the outfield grass.

 

Satisfied at last, the bear looked toward the mound, at the man standing there, shaking in fear.  The man through a white rock at him, but it bounced impotently in the ground several feet away.  The bear sniffed at the man, and then sauntered away in disdain."

[Hosken Bombo Disco]

And then TC bear went and ate all the players.

 

"The silver-tipped ûrsus horriblisˆ could contain its primal instincts no longer. Where, in all the epochs of history had prey been so ready? So ripe for the taking? These pink and brown skinned men were like elk in a dew-tipped vale, standing with vacuous expressions, the smell of fear and defeat a palpable essence permeating the crisp spring air. The smell was crisp, like bacon sizzling in a cast iron frying pan, or perhaps more like chicken, juicing and dripping on a spit.

 

The bear doffed its hat and sprung into action. The big, lumbering right fielder was first; it's arm whacked his thick hide at 80 grade strength to no avail. Had the meal been 260 pounds as advertised, the bears appetite may have been sated, but the extra 15 pounds only served to invigorate the beasts passion for flesh. The blind first-basemen was next, he patiently waited for a second chance to run that never came.

 

In a clockwise fashion, the carnage continued, finishing with the center fielder, who, had he chosen a better route, might have escaped the now tiring bear. But alas, he got a poor break and the beast cut him off as he futiley zig-zagged his way through the outfield grass.

 

Satisfied at last, the bear looked toward the mound, at the man standing there, shaking in fear. The man through a white rock at him, but it bounced impotently in the ground several feet away. The bear sniffed at the man, and then sauntered away in disdain."

Hey, go get your own discussion thread. I was enjoying this one!

[Han Joelo]

Hey, go get your own discussion thread. I was enjoying this one!

 

30 seconds in, you might get the relevance:  https://youtu.be/gWycuaWJFCM

 

 

[zchrz]

 

And then TC bear went and ate all the players.

 

"The silver-tipped ûrsus horriblisˆ could contain its primal instincts no longer.  Where, in all the epochs of history had prey been so ready?  So ripe for the taking?  These pink and brown skinned men were like elk in a dew-tipped vale, standing with vacuous expressions, the smell of fear and defeat a palpable essence permeating the crisp spring air.  The smell was crisp, like bacon sizzling in a cast iron frying pan, or perhaps more like chicken, juicing and dripping on a spit.  

 

The bear doffed its hat and sprung into action.  The big, lumbering right fielder was first; it's arm whacked his thick hide at 80 grade strength to no avail.  Had the meal been 260 pounds as advertised, the bears appetite may have been sated, but the extra 15 pounds only served to invigorate the beasts passion for flesh.  The blind first-basemen was next, he patiently waited for a second chance to run that never came.

 

In a clockwise fashion, the carnage continued, finishing with the center fielder, who, had he chosen a better route, might have escaped the now tiring bear.  But alas, he got a poor break and the beast cut him off as he futiley zig-zagged his way through the outfield grass.

 

Satisfied at last, the bear looked toward the mound, at the man standing there, shaking in fear.  The man through a white rock at him, but it bounced impotently in the ground several feet away.  The bear sniffed at the man, and then sauntered away in disdain."

 

If we ever meant anything to you TC, please take the pitcher.

[Craig Arko]

"Why is it so painful to watch a person sink? Because there is something unnatural in it, for nature demands personal progress, evolution, and every backward step means wasted energy."

 

- August Strindberg

[Han Joelo]

It would be a shame to let this go to waste.  Werner Herzog is one of the greatest documentary filmmakers of all time, and the fact that the Twins horrible season was notable enough for him to take the time to attend a game and open an account to pen this essay should not go unnoticed.

 

Baseball is a science yes; but also an art.  Let us appreciate both sides of the coin.  Poetry is the art of saying as much as possible in as few words as possible.  This one post says what a thousand fist-pounding expository diatribes cannot.

[ashbury]

It would be a shame to let this go to waste.  Werner Herzog is one of the greatest documentary filmmakers of all time, and the fact that the Twins horrible season was notable enough for him to take the time to attend a game and open an account to pen this essay should not go unnoticed.

 

Baseball is a science yes; but also an art.  Let us appreciate both sides of the coin.  Poetry is the art of saying as much as possible in as few words as possible.  This one post says what a thousand fist-pounding expository diatribes cannot.

If his point was that Terry Ryan should be fired, I think the author failed to make his case.

[Craig Arko]

https://youtu.be/CGcWTIWYDMQ

 

Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe.

[Hosken Bombo Disco]

The problem I had with this post is that the author made Twins games seem so..... meaningless.

[formerly33]

Nice, but it's somewhat disrespectful to compare such an intricately functioning system as a molecule to this disorganized Twins team.

[Twinfan & Dad]

I want what you're smoking. Make these miserable games more fun. Lol

[Platoon]

It has been a constant that math should never be done on TD, are we now going to have to add poetry? . Actually I thought it was very good, and a nice change of pace. Not one reference to the FO, the RF, or the BP. .

[Platoon]

And then TC bear went and ate all the players.

 

"The silver-tipped ûrsus horriblisˆ could contain its primal instincts no longer.  Where, in all the epochs of history had prey been so ready?  So ripe for the taking?  These pink and brown skinned men were like elk in a dew-tipped vale, standing with vacuous expressions, the smell of fear and defeat a palpable essence permeating the crisp spring air.  The smell was crisp, like bacon sizzling in a cast iron frying pan, or perhaps more like chicken, juicing and dripping on a spit.  

 

The bear doffed its hat and sprung into action.  The big, lumbering right fielder was first; it's arm whacked his thick hide at 80 grade strength to no avail.  Had the meal been 260 pounds as advertised, the bears appetite may have been sated, but the extra 15 pounds only served to invigorate the beasts passion for flesh.  The blind first-basemen was next, he patiently waited for a second chance to run that never came.

 

In a clockwise fashion, the carnage continued, finishing with the center fielder, who, had he chosen a better route, might have escaped the now tiring bear.  But alas, he got a poor break and the beast cut him off as he futiley zig-zagged his way through the outfield grass.

 

Satisfied at last, the bear looked toward the mound, at the man standing there, shaking in fear.  The man through a white rock at him, but it bounced impotently in the ground several feet away.  The bear sniffed at the man, and then sauntered away in disdain."

I noticed TC, like all wild animals focused on the slow to adapt to their environment, and the overly patient. Fortunately for the weak, TC had already had his fill. (As have many Twins fans) . Sadly the third baseman remembered the old Chief joke about not having to outrun the bear, only the catcher. If you wonder, why sadly, you have never seen our third baseman run!

[dbminn]

Klaus Kinski for GM

[Pardon My Dinger]

 

Klaus Kinski for GM

Ozzie Guillen for Manager. It's gonna be a bloodbath.