Axel Kohagen

The Twins are down in Florida, getting ready to play baseball. I AM excited, of course. It just feels like all us Twins' fans got a Christmas tree out, and we're trying to pretend the packages that look and feel like bags of tube socks aren't really tube socks. It's gonna be a tube socks year, folks. Need to make it a goal to at least TRY to remember the names of the starting pitchers. Think I might try cue cards. Two crappy seasons behind us. Someone has to be mad in that clubhouse. We're free from Danny Valencia now, can't they trade in the swagger for chips on their shoulders? I'm talking scrappy, and not the cute, non-threatening Nick Punto kind. I'm talking Mike Redmond legging out a triple with what was left his aging body and acting like he totally saw it coming the whole way. Just, you know, scrap that can occasionally hit the ball. And like that my good mood is gone. How tough can a team be when your star player always walks up to a song that sounds like the level end of an unpopular Nintendo game and the stadium PA celebrates each victory by blaring an arena rock anthem that's as exhilarating as a paint-by-numbers of the "one" side of a die? I don't want to be a hater, but everything coming up tube socks and bad rock in my mind.

The Twins are down in Florida, getting ready to play baseball. I AM excited, of course. It just feels like all us Twins' fans got a Christmas tree out, and we're trying to pretend the packages that look and feel like bags of tube socks aren't really tube socks. It's gonna be a tube socks year, folks. Need to make it a goal to at least TRY to remember the names of the starting pitchers. Think I might try cue cards. Two crappy seasons behind us. Someone has to be mad in that clubhouse. We're free from Danny Valencia now, can't they trade in the swagger for chips on their shoulders? I'm talking scrappy, and not the cute, non-threatening Nick Punto kind. I'm talking Mike Redmond legging out a triple with what was left his aging body and acting like he totally saw it coming the whole way. Just, you know, scrap that can occasionally hit the ball. And like that my good mood is gone. How tough can a team be when your star player always walks up to a song that sounds like the level end of an unpopular Nintendo game and the stadium PA celebrates each victory by blaring an arena rock anthem that's as exhilarating as a paint-by-numbers of the "one" side of a die? I don't want to be a hater, but everything coming up tube socks and bad rock in my mind.

UPDATE: Don't Go To The Reunion was funded and will be shooting this year!

This is off-topic, but if you grew up around the same time period as me, you know what happened after the summer Little League games. You went to a sleepover and you watched a scary movie. Probably one where a guy with a mask and a sharp object chased teenagers around the woods. Like the song says, they just don't make 'em like that anymore. UNLESS . . . Slasher Studios is looking for a few more donations to fund their movie Don't Go To The Reunion, and they could use a few bucks from anyone with a soft spot for sleepless nights at slumber parties. They have already produced three short films, including the award-winning Teddy. You can listen to their podcast on iTunes and read articles about horror movies on their website http://www.slasherstudios.com (where I write reviews). Wanna support people from Wisconsin doing something good? Head to Kickstarter and donate a few bucks. But hurry - you only have two days to help make this happen!

This is off-topic, but if you grew up around the same time period as me, you know what happened after the summer Little League games. You went to a sleepover and you watched a scary movie. Probably one where a guy with a mask and a sharp object chased teenagers around the woods. Like the song says, they just don't make 'em like that anymore. UNLESS . . . Slasher Studios is looking for a few more donations to fund their movie Don't Go To The Reunion, and they could use a few bucks from anyone with a soft spot for sleepless nights at slumber parties. They have already produced three short films, including the award-winning Teddy. You can listen to their podcast on iTunes and read articles about horror movies on their website http://www.slasherstudios.com (where I write reviews). Wanna support people from Wisconsin doing something good? Head to Kickstarter and donate a few bucks. But hurry - you only have two days to help make this happen!

Thought about the title of this blog. How would I feel if someone sends it back to me after a victorious Twins season? Then, I decided I'd feel pretty damn good about a winning season and probably wouldn't care someone reminded me I started out bitter. Twins fans across the Internet are writing like the team was dying and they're planning the services in its hospital room. Opening Day will be the funeral service, and Spring Training the visitation. Too morbid? What's the proper way to prepare for a team that's just not going to cut it? Do I wave my homer hanky or just cry into it? Do I have to pretend like I've got high hopes? Wait. Maybe I gotta be honest with myself. I do have high hopes, even though my brain keeps reminding me I should know better. As soon as the Twins win one game I'll be convinced they're going to the World Series. They won't, and I won't tell a single person I'm thinking it, but I'll be picking my spot on the parade route. Somebody taught me once that cynics were just idealists that got hurt. Anybody else notice how long baseball games last when your team has no chance to seal the deal? Could go with the "it's always nice to get out to the ballpark," but that's kind of a crock, huh? If the away team gets a five run lead before the end of the third, your seat gets uncomfortable and the cutesy scoreboard videos are insufferable. I have so much hope for 2014, but have you flipped through a calendar to see how far away that is? When the season starts, whatever is left in the Twins dugout will come staggering out when the PA system promises they'll knock the cover off the ball. I look at my Minnie and Paul and I just have one favor to ask of them. However the season goes, let me see someone start a fire that will get me through the winter between this season and the next. Someone has to ignite this deadness.

Thought about the title of this blog. How would I feel if someone sends it back to me after a victorious Twins season? Then, I decided I'd feel pretty damn good about a winning season and probably wouldn't care someone reminded me I started out bitter. Twins fans across the Internet are writing like the team was dying and they're planning the services in its hospital room. Opening Day will be the funeral service, and Spring Training the visitation. Too morbid? What's the proper way to prepare for a team that's just not going to cut it? Do I wave my homer hanky or just cry into it? Do I have to pretend like I've got high hopes? Wait. Maybe I gotta be honest with myself. I do have high hopes, even though my brain keeps reminding me I should know better. As soon as the Twins win one game I'll be convinced they're going to the World Series. They won't, and I won't tell a single person I'm thinking it, but I'll be picking my spot on the parade route. Somebody taught me once that cynics were just idealists that got hurt. Anybody else notice how long baseball games last when your team has no chance to seal the deal? Could go with the "it's always nice to get out to the ballpark," but that's kind of a crock, huh? If the away team gets a five run lead before the end of the third, your seat gets uncomfortable and the cutesy scoreboard videos are insufferable. I have so much hope for 2014, but have you flipped through a calendar to see how far away that is? When the season starts, whatever is left in the Twins dugout will come staggering out when the PA system promises they'll knock the cover off the ball. I look at my Minnie and Paul and I just have one favor to ask of them. However the season goes, let me see someone start a fire that will get me through the winter between this season and the next. Someone has to ignite this deadness.

I drive by Target Field nearly every day. In the off-season, it looks like a brand new piece of playground equipment. The next time I go past it, it'll look broken-in. Target Field's not Yankee stadium, but it deserves history. And what's history without a few ghosts? Revere was a player with a future. Moving him is smart. Giving up winter dreams about his potential will still hurt. I was as ready as I could be to lose Span. Losing Revere came as a surprise. I'm an jag-off for not getting Revere to sign my picture of his leaping catch this year. Others are gone, and more will probably be traded. I don't own a shirsey with the name of a current Twins player on the back of it. The Twinsfest tables holding discounted shirts with departed names on their backs will be overflowing this January. Things are brewing in the farm systems. A new team dynamic will rise from the ashes of two cruddy seasons and a lack of hope for the future. At least we're not the Royals, trapped in a beautiful stadium with a team that can't get out of first gear. Maybe if they keep sucking, we can trade for that center field fountain to fill the spot where the trees used to be.

I drive by Target Field nearly every day. In the off-season, it looks like a brand new piece of playground equipment. The next time I go past it, it'll look broken-in. Target Field's not Yankee stadium, but it deserves history. And what's history without a few ghosts? Revere was a player with a future. Moving him is smart. Giving up winter dreams about his potential will still hurt. I was as ready as I could be to lose Span. Losing Revere came as a surprise. I'm an jag-off for not getting Revere to sign my picture of his leaping catch this year. Others are gone, and more will probably be traded. I don't own a shirsey with the name of a current Twins player on the back of it. The Twinsfest tables holding discounted shirts with departed names on their backs will be overflowing this January. Things are brewing in the farm systems. A new team dynamic will rise from the ashes of two cruddy seasons and a lack of hope for the future. At least we're not the Royals, trapped in a beautiful stadium with a team that can't get out of first gear. Maybe if they keep sucking, we can trade for that center field fountain to fill the spot where the trees used to be.

Finally, I made the trip. Cedar Rapids is only an hour away from where my parents live, and I finally got out on the open road to watch the Beloit Snappers play the Cedar Rapids Kernels. The following notes and pictures will not provide any interesting baseball knowledge, but they might inspire others in the Twin Cities to make the trip to Cedar Rapids to see the visiting Snappers play. All pictures are my own, which is more of a confession of guilt than an attempt at bragging. [ATTACH=CONFIG]2146[/ATTACH] 1) If you're driving on 35, it's worth sidetracking to see the Surf Ballroom, where Buddy Holly and company played their last show, as well as the cornfield where the plane crashed. The ballroom is well-preserved. The crash site is a less polished and takes a half mile of walking to reach. Seeing both is mandatory experience for true rock and rollers. More info here. At the crash site, people leave items as a memorial. One of these items made me wonder it the Minnesota Twins really are cursed. [ATTACH=CONFIG]2147[/ATTACH] 2) Veterans Memorial Stadium is a pretty nice place to visit. Ticket prices are more than fair, and autographs aren't too hard to come by (if you are so inclined). 3) The Kernels mascot is a corn-based Frankenstein named Mr. Shucks. I think this name is so funny I have already alienated two family members giggling about him. I bought a hat solely so I could say "Mr. Shucks" more often. [ATTACH=CONFIG]2148[/ATTACH] 4) Seeing Miguel Sano, and getting his autograph, felt like meeting Elvis right before he got on Ed Sullivan. [ATTACH=CONFIG]2151[/ATTACH] 5) Sano's signature confuses me, but some quick Googling shows this seems to be pretty normal. I actually watched him sign it, so that helps confirm it for me. [ATTACH=CONFIG]2150[/ATTACH] 6) If you're hungry and have time on your trip north, out of Cedar Rapids, get a tenderloin at Joensy's in Center Point. The sandwiches are delicious, reasonably priced, and majestic in size. If you're going to be in Iowa, and you don't eat a tenderloin, your life will be poorer. My brother-in-law recommended it, so I am currently in his debt. 7) The whole trip would have been less enjoyable without meeting up with @jimcrikket, who made me feel like a visiting dignitary with his kindness. Thanks, Jim! Also, thanks again to Seth Stohs for his prospect handbook. I consulted it before and after my trip -- can't wait to buy my 2013 copy! 8) Finally, here is an encore presentation of my best "Mr. Shucks" related Tweets. Follow @mrhorrorpants on Twitter for more things that are almost, but not quite, funny. -- "He is a husky guy with big ears, and the chicks can't leaf him alone!" -- "You know, #MrShucks of the Cedar Rapids #Kernels would be the ideal mascot to STALK!" -- #MrShucks needs a mascot partner named #MrJives -- The #Kernels should have a Hip-Hop Night culminating in a rousing performance by their mascot, Mr. Shucks D. -- Every #Kernels game should have their mascot pulling a fan on the dugout roof and singing "Shuck E.'s In Love" to them. (Thanks to @mntwinkie and @gaultcommasarah for joining in on the Mr. Shucks madness).

THE DAY-TO-DAY ZONE FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 3 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY BASED ON AN IDEA BY MICHAEL HAAS (@digitalHaas) INT. BLACK AND WHITE. A MOD 50s LIVING ROOM. THERE ARE SEVERAL COUCHES MADE UP OF LIGHT GRAY RECTANGLES. A COFFEE TABLE SITS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM, COVERED IN MAGAZINES. DENARD SPAN ENTERS THE ROOM, LOOKING CONFUSED AND FRUSTRATED. HE SITS ON ONE OF THE COUCHES. HE SHAKES HIS HEAD AND STARES AT A DOOR IN FRONT OF HIM. THE DOOR IN FRONT OF HIM IS LABELED "TARGET FIELD - PLAYER'S ENTRANCE." THE CAMERA PULLS BACK TO REVEAL MR. HORRORPANTS. HE IS WEARING A SUIT AND TIE, AND HIS HAIR IS PARTED TO THE SIDE. MR. HORRORPANTS Another Twin. Another injury. Another ballplayer waits for his chance to play again. When will that chance come? DENARD SPAN (shrugs) MR. HORRORPANTS Some things aren't very clear, in the Day-to-Day Zone. THE DAY-TO-DAY ZONE THEME PLAYS. DENARD SPAN, NOW ALONE AGAIN, GOES TO LISTEN TO THE DOOR MARKED "PLAYER'S ENTRANCE." HE HEARS THE SOUNDS OF BASEBALL BEING PLAYED. DENARD SPAN Plouffe, is that you? Plouffey? How'd you get out of here? THERE IS NO ANSWER. DENARD SPAN SITS DOWN. HE FANS THROUGH THE MAGAZINE ON THE COFFEE TABLE AND NOTICES SOMETHING HAS BEEN SCRATCHED INTO THE SURFACE OF THE TABLE. SPAN PUSHES THE OTHER MAGAZINES AWAY AND SEES THE PHRASE "THOME WAS HERE!" DENARD SPAN Okay. Relax, Denard. Nobody else has gone through that door, so they need you. This can't be the DL or someone else would've come through that door, right? DENARD SPAN SLUMPS BACK INTO THE COUCH. AS HE DOES SO, HE NOTICES A FINGERTIP POKING OUT FROM UNDER THE A CUSHION. DENARD STANDS UP AND RIPS THE COUCH CUSHIONS OFF THE COUCH. HE STAGGERS AND FALLS TO THE GROUND, NARROWLY MISSING THE COFFEE TABLE. HE IS COVERING HIS MOUTH IN SHOCK. UNDER THE CUSHIONS, STILL WRITHING IN PAIN, IS THE DETACHED ARM AND SHOULDER OF MATT CAPPS. DENARD SPAN It fell off! He was here until it completely fell off! MR. HORRORPANTS WALKS IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA. Mr. Horrorpants Not a very pretty ending. But, is it an ending? Will it ever end? You can never be sure . . . in the Day-to-Day Zone. CUE CREDITS, FADE TO BLACK. (Follow @mrhorrorpants on Twitter. He gets even weirder.)

THE DAY-TO-DAY ZONE FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 3 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY BASED ON AN IDEA BY MICHAEL HAAS (@digitalHaas) INT. BLACK AND WHITE. A MOD 50s LIVING ROOM. THERE ARE SEVERAL COUCHES MADE UP OF LIGHT GRAY RECTANGLES. A COFFEE TABLE SITS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM, COVERED IN MAGAZINES. DENARD SPAN ENTERS THE ROOM, LOOKING CONFUSED AND FRUSTRATED. HE SITS ON ONE OF THE COUCHES. HE SHAKES HIS HEAD AND STARES AT A DOOR IN FRONT OF HIM. THE DOOR IN FRONT OF HIM IS LABELED "TARGET FIELD - PLAYER'S ENTRANCE." THE CAMERA PULLS BACK TO REVEAL MR. HORRORPANTS. HE IS WEARING A SUIT AND TIE, AND HIS HAIR IS PARTED TO THE SIDE. MR. HORRORPANTS Another Twin. Another injury. Another ballplayer waits for his chance to play again. When will that chance come? DENARD SPAN (shrugs) MR. HORRORPANTS Some things aren't very clear, in the Day-to-Day Zone. THE DAY-TO-DAY ZONE THEME PLAYS. DENARD SPAN, NOW ALONE AGAIN, GOES TO LISTEN TO THE DOOR MARKED "PLAYER'S ENTRANCE." HE HEARS THE SOUNDS OF BASEBALL BEING PLAYED. DENARD SPAN Plouffe, is that you? Plouffey? How'd you get out of here? THERE IS NO ANSWER. DENARD SPAN SITS DOWN. HE FANS THROUGH THE MAGAZINE ON THE COFFEE TABLE AND NOTICES SOMETHING HAS BEEN SCRATCHED INTO THE SURFACE OF THE TABLE. SPAN PUSHES THE OTHER MAGAZINES AWAY AND SEES THE PHRASE "THOME WAS HERE!" DENARD SPAN Okay. Relax, Denard. Nobody else has gone through that door, so they need you. This can't be the DL or someone else would've come through that door, right? DENARD SPAN SLUMPS BACK INTO THE COUCH. AS HE DOES SO, HE NOTICES A FINGERTIP POKING OUT FROM UNDER THE A CUSHION. DENARD STANDS UP AND RIPS THE COUCH CUSHIONS OFF THE COUCH. HE STAGGERS AND FALLS TO THE GROUND, NARROWLY MISSING THE COFFEE TABLE. HE IS COVERING HIS MOUTH IN SHOCK. UNDER THE CUSHIONS, STILL WRITHING IN PAIN, IS THE DETACHED ARM AND SHOULDER OF MATT CAPPS. DENARD SPAN It fell off! He was here until it completely fell off! MR. HORRORPANTS WALKS IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA. Mr. Horrorpants Not a very pretty ending. But, is it an ending? Will it ever end? You can never be sure . . . in the Day-to-Day Zone. CUE CREDITS, FADE TO BLACK. (Follow @mrhorrorpants on Twitter. He gets even weirder.)

I, for one, suggest we definitely spend some time celebrating Aaron Gleeman on 10 years of maintaining his blog. Gleeman is a succinct and clear writer who never sacrifices quality, even when producing articles in great quantity. He makes it easy to join into online conversation with other Twins fans, and I'm thankful for what he's done. So with that in mind, the 10 year anniversary of AaronGleeman.com has to go down like it was classic Johnny Carson stuff. Here are some suggestions: 1) Where Are They Now That They've Unfollowed Aaron: Various Twitter users type in prompts until Aaron can guess who the sports personality is and why they unfollowed him. 2) Happy Birthday! A ranked Official Fantasy Girl of the site sings "Happy Birthday, AaronGleeman.com!" to Aaron in a sultry way. 3) Surprise Twins Geek! In a surprise guest appearance, John Bonnes would arrive and demand to be repaid for all of the off-the-cuff bets Aaron has made on Gleeman and the Geek. 4) Sending Us Home Soulfully. The man himself gets on the microphone and belts out a soulful seventies number to thank all of his regular readers. Rhinestone jumpsuit optional. Congrats, Aaron, on a great site and a great standard of excellence!

I, for one, suggest we definitely spend some time celebrating Aaron Gleeman on 10 years of maintaining his blog. Gleeman is a succinct and clear writer who never sacrifices quality, even when producing articles in great quantity. He makes it easy to join into online conversation with other Twins fans, and I'm thankful for what he's done. So with that in mind, the 10 year anniversary of AaronGleeman.com has to go down like it was classic Johnny Carson stuff. Here are some suggestions: 1) Where Are They Now That They've Unfollowed Aaron: Various Twitter users type in prompts until Aaron can guess who the sports personality is and why they unfollowed him. 2) Happy Birthday! A ranked Official Fantasy Girl of the site sings "Happy Birthday, AaronGleeman.com!" to Aaron in a sultry way. 3) Surprise Twins Geek! In a surprise guest appearance, John Bonnes would arrive and demand to be repaid for all of the off-the-cuff bets Aaron has made on Gleeman and the Geek. 4) Sending Us Home Soulfully. The man himself gets on the microphone and belts out a soulful seventies number to thank all of his regular readers. Rhinestone jumpsuit optional. Congrats, Aaron, on a great site and a great standard of excellence!

CH-CH-CH AH-AH-AH FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 3 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY THE CAMERA PANS OVER AN EMPTY TARGET. DESPITE THE STADIUM'S BARRENNESS, WE CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS OF BASEBALL. PERHAPS THE HAPPY SOUNDS OF THE 2010 SEASON. MR. HORRORPANTS IS STANDING ALONE AT HOME PLATE. HIS LAB COAT IS FLAPPING IN THE BREEZE. BEHIND HIM, FROM THE OPPOSING DUGOUT, THE SPECTRAL IMAGE OF JOHAN SANTANA APPEARS. JOHAN SANTANA It's time. MR. HORRORPANTS I knew this day would come. We've all know it. JOHAN SANTAN When the wind is not blowing out of the stadium, it brings HIM. MR. HORRORPANTS NODS. HE LOOKS INTO CENTER FIELD. IN CENTER FIELD, THERE IS A LONE FIGURE. HE IS DRESSED LIKE THE GRIM REAPER,BUT BELOW HIS ROBE HE WEARS STIRRUP SOCKS AND CLEATS. HE IS THE BAD TRADE REAPER. A SINGLE TEAR ROLLS DOWN MR. HORRORPANTS' CHEEK. THE BAD TRADE REAPER BEGINS TO DO HIS HIDEOUS, AWKWARD DANCE. MR. HORRORPANTS Who does HE come for? JOHAN SANTANA We can never truly know. MR. HORRORPANTS HE takes so much. HE gives back so little. JOHAN SANTANA It has always been HIS way. THE BAD TRADE REAPER STOPS DANCING AND POINTS TO THE TWINS DUGOUT. MR. HORRORPANTS When does HE begin? A HAND SUDDENLY GRABS MR. HORRORPANTS' SHOULDER. THE STARING FACE OF WILSON RAMOS IS LEERING AT HIM WILSON RAMOS Sooner than you think!

CH-CH-CH AH-AH-AH FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 3 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY THE CAMERA PANS OVER AN EMPTY TARGET. DESPITE THE STADIUM'S BARRENNESS, WE CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS OF BASEBALL. PERHAPS THE HAPPY SOUNDS OF THE 2010 SEASON. MR. HORRORPANTS IS STANDING ALONE AT HOME PLATE. HIS LAB COAT IS FLAPPING IN THE BREEZE. BEHIND HIM, FROM THE OPPOSING DUGOUT, THE SPECTRAL IMAGE OF JOHAN SANTANA APPEARS. JOHAN SANTANA It's time. MR. HORRORPANTS I knew this day would come. We've all know it. JOHAN SANTAN When the wind is not blowing out of the stadium, it brings HIM. MR. HORRORPANTS NODS. HE LOOKS INTO CENTER FIELD. IN CENTER FIELD, THERE IS A LONE FIGURE. HE IS DRESSED LIKE THE GRIM REAPER,BUT BELOW HIS ROBE HE WEARS STIRRUP SOCKS AND CLEATS. HE IS THE BAD TRADE REAPER. A SINGLE TEAR ROLLS DOWN MR. HORRORPANTS' CHEEK. THE BAD TRADE REAPER BEGINS TO DO HIS HIDEOUS, AWKWARD DANCE. MR. HORRORPANTS Who does HE come for? JOHAN SANTANA We can never truly know. MR. HORRORPANTS HE takes so much. HE gives back so little. JOHAN SANTANA It has always been HIS way. THE BAD TRADE REAPER STOPS DANCING AND POINTS TO THE TWINS DUGOUT. MR. HORRORPANTS When does HE begin? A HAND SUDDENLY GRABS MR. HORRORPANTS' SHOULDER. THE STARING FACE OF WILSON RAMOS IS LEERING AT HIM WILSON RAMOS Sooner than you think!

TERROR AT THE MARTIN ROMERO INSTITUTE: FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 2 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY INT. A LIVING ROOM OF AN ABANDONED HOUSE. Mr. Horrorpants enters the room. He kicks at a crushed plastic beer cup. From the corner, a crouched human being stirs. The crouched stranger stands and reveals himself to be Carl Pavano, dressed as a teenager from the 1950s. PAVANO Nick? MR. HORRORPANTS Something is amiss here! PAVANO They're all gone! All of my friends! We thought we were just having a good time, but then people started leaving to examine that abandoned building across the way. Pavano points out the window. Lightning crashes. EXT. AN ABANDONED BUSINESS, LABELED "THE MARTIN ROMERO INSTITUTE." PAVANO When they go their, they usually don't come back . . . right. If they come back at all. Look what happened to Frankie. Frankie Liriano peeks out over the back of an arm chair. He is wearing a beanie with a propeller on it. LIRIANO Once was a phenom . . . Once a phenom . . . PAVANO What if . . . What if . . . What if I'm next? MR. HORRORPANTS I don't understand. Pavano stands and grabs Mr. Horrorpants by the lapels of his lab coat. He shakes Mr. Horrorpants. PAVANO Look at the initials! M. R. I.! Lightning crashes again. Liriano hides behind the chair again. EXT. MARTIN ROMERO INSTITUTE The shadow of a man with a cleaver appears in the window. Maniacal laughter fills the air.

TERROR AT THE MARTIN ROMERO INSTITUTE: FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 2 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY INT. A LIVING ROOM OF AN ABANDONED HOUSE. Mr. Horrorpants enters the room. He kicks at a crushed plastic beer cup. From the corner, a crouched human being stirs. The crouched stranger stands and reveals himself to be Carl Pavano, dressed as a teenager from the 1950s. PAVANO Nick? MR. HORRORPANTS Something is amiss here! PAVANO They're all gone! All of my friends! We thought we were just having a good time, but then people started leaving to examine that abandoned building across the way. Pavano points out the window. Lightning crashes. EXT. AN ABANDONED BUSINESS, LABELED "THE MARTIN ROMERO INSTITUTE." PAVANO When they go their, they usually don't come back . . . right. If they come back at all. Look what happened to Frankie. Frankie Liriano peeks out over the back of an arm chair. He is wearing a beanie with a propeller on it. LIRIANO Once was a phenom . . . Once a phenom . . . PAVANO What if . . . What if . . . What if I'm next? MR. HORRORPANTS I don't understand. Pavano stands and grabs Mr. Horrorpants by the lapels of his lab coat. He shakes Mr. Horrorpants. PAVANO Look at the initials! M. R. I.! Lightning crashes again. Liriano hides behind the chair again. EXT. MARTIN ROMERO INSTITUTE The shadow of a man with a cleaver appears in the window. Maniacal laughter fills the air.

From: Michael Fakename To: Marlins Home Run Feature Design Team. I. Love. It. When I said I wanted something that looked like Rainbow Brite puked on a snowglobe, I was just a boy with a dream. You and your design team made this boy's dreams come true! Can I make one small request? Could you add just ONE MORE Marlin to the display? I'm envisioning a marlin that comes out of the top of the display, but real slowly. I mean, REALLY slowly. Almost creepy slow. It should just stop for a moment when it gets to the top, like, what's it going to do next? Then, boom! The marlin does a slow backward flip. Then, what's it going to do? Sinks back down behind the display just as slowly as it came! If you can do that -- Perfection! Michael Fakename [video=youtube_share;1kOIp0gUDMM]http://youtu.be/1kOIp0gUDMM

From: Michael Fakename To: Marlins Home Run Feature Design Team. I. Love. It. When I said I wanted something that looked like Rainbow Brite puked on a snowglobe, I was just a boy with a dream. You and your design team made this boy's dreams come true! Can I make one small request? Could you add just ONE MORE Marlin to the display? I'm envisioning a marlin that comes out of the top of the display, but real slowly. I mean, REALLY slowly. Almost creepy slow. It should just stop for a moment when it gets to the top, like, what's it going to do next? Then, boom! The marlin does a slow backward flip. Then, what's it going to do? Sinks back down behind the display just as slowly as it came! If you can do that -- Perfection! Michael Fakename [video=youtube_share;1kOIp0gUDMM]http://youtu.be/1kOIp0gUDMM

IT'S ALIV . . . NO, NOPE. IT'S NOT. SORRY: FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 1 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY INT. MAD SCIENTIST'S CASTLE. MR. HORRORPANTS IS WEARING A LAB COAT AND STANDING IN FRONT OF A LARGE BODY ON A SLAB. HE IS ACCOMPANIED BY STELLA, HIS TRUSTY ASSISTANT GREAT DANE. Mr. Horrorpants pulls a sheet off of the body on the slab to reveal a Frankenstein creation wearing a Minnesota Twins Jersey. On the sleeve is a patch revealing the creation represents Minnesota Twins Fan Spirit. MR. HORRORPANTS Stella, why won't Twins Fan Spirit rise and live again? Stella blinks, then finds a patch of straw to lie down upon. Mr. Horrorpants lifts a weak, poorly stitched together arm from the creature's side. MR. HORRORPANTS The arms! We needed better arms to inspire life to beat in the creature's chest! These arms are used and poorly stitched together! These feet are easily tangled! The eyes cannot see! Stella is already bored and asleep. Mr. Horrorpants looks out the window of Castle Horrorpants. EXT. A DIRT ROAD IN THE COUNTRYSIDE. A MOB OF ANGRY TWINS FANS MARCH TOWARD THE CASTLE. THEY CARRY TORCHES AND CHANT NAMES LIKE "PUNTO" AND "RADKE" AND "HUNTER." INT. THE CASTLE. MR. HORRORPANTS Maybe it has been dead for TOO LONG! If the creature could have been revived last year, maybe we would have stood a chance! We should NEVER have waited so long. The villagers now pound loudly on the castle door. From an open window, bottles and empty cups begin to fly into the room. MR. HORRORPANTS Stella, it's worse than I feared! The Twins fans are so angry they're prepared for Knoblauching! Quick! Call Tom Kelly. Stella is already snoring. Mr. Horrorpants turns back to the Twins 2012 Season. He shakes his head and grabs his EKG defibrillator paddles. MR. HORRORPANTS This experiment has just begun. There must be SOME spark that could salvage it. The castle door loudly splinters and falls apart under the onslaught of the frustrated Twins fans. MR. HORRORPANTS Hold off, fans! There's still time . . . The angry villagers keep advancing . . .

IT'S ALIV . . . NO, NOPE. IT'S NOT. SORRY: FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF ROSIN PART 1 A MR. HORRORPANTS SCREENPLAY INT. MAD SCIENTIST'S CASTLE. MR. HORRORPANTS IS WEARING A LAB COAT AND STANDING IN FRONT OF A LARGE BODY ON A SLAB. HE IS ACCOMPANIED BY STELLA, HIS TRUSTY ASSISTANT GREAT DANE. Mr. Horrorpants pulls a sheet off of the body on the slab to reveal a Frankenstein creation wearing a Minnesota Twins Jersey. On the sleeve is a patch revealing the creation represents Minnesota Twins Fan Spirit. MR. HORRORPANTS Stella, why won't Twins Fan Spirit rise and live again? Stella blinks, then finds a patch of straw to lie down upon. Mr. Horrorpants lifts a weak, poorly stitched together arm from the creature's side. MR. HORRORPANTS The arms! We needed better arms to inspire life to beat in the creature's chest! These arms are used and poorly stitched together! These feet are easily tangled! The eyes cannot see! Stella is already bored and asleep. Mr. Horrorpants looks out the window of Castle Horrorpants. EXT. A DIRT ROAD IN THE COUNTRYSIDE. A MOB OF ANGRY TWINS FANS MARCH TOWARD THE CASTLE. THEY CARRY TORCHES AND CHANT NAMES LIKE "PUNTO" AND "RADKE" AND "HUNTER." INT. THE CASTLE. MR. HORRORPANTS Maybe it has been dead for TOO LONG! If the creature could have been revived last year, maybe we would have stood a chance! We should NEVER have waited so long. The villagers now pound loudly on the castle door. From an open window, bottles and empty cups begin to fly into the room. MR. HORRORPANTS Stella, it's worse than I feared! The Twins fans are so angry they're prepared for Knoblauching! Quick! Call Tom Kelly. Stella is already snoring. Mr. Horrorpants turns back to the Twins 2012 Season. He shakes his head and grabs his EKG defibrillator paddles. MR. HORRORPANTS This experiment has just begun. There must be SOME spark that could salvage it. The castle door loudly splinters and falls apart under the onslaught of the frustrated Twins fans. MR. HORRORPANTS Hold off, fans! There's still time . . . The angry villagers keep advancing . . .

The following are my thoughts on the blogger versus journalist "debate." They are largely unresearched and completely subjective, but I hope they offer something to the public discussion. 1) It's not really a debate. This discussion is about the journalistic appraisal of the talent of the blogging community. I don't believe the discussion lends itself toward critiquing the journalistic community. Some mainstream journalists (Jon Heyman comes to mind) get more blogger abuse than others, but usually this vitriol is directed toward an individual and not a community. 2) Nothing is really at stake. Bloggers will keep blogging regardless of criticism. Having a blog is a free way to get your opinions out to the entire world. It's unlikely public disfavor would stop people from complaining about things on the internet - especially when it's free to do so. What's it all about? This is my informal conclusion: Conclusion: We fear change. If you have bloggers writing from the outside and journalists writing form the inside, you have two separate views of reality within a particular sports world. If you're comfortable living in a world without absolute, yes-or-no answers, this is not likely to upset you. However . . . if you need heroes and villains, having multiple views on a topic means you have to identify who is right and who is wrong. If you're from the side losing power, you'll pick the other side to play the bad guy. It's what people do when they're scared. In some ways, we should all be scared of losing professional journalistic voices. I wouldn't want to live in a world without professional journalistic standards, where all of the news was written by bloggers. I'm writing this piece while my wife plays Super Mario Brothers. I'm publishing at as "Mr. Horrorpants," a name you're unlikely to see attributed to an article in the New York Times. When I publish it, I will hit a button. I will not submit it to an editor and/or copy editor for approval. No one will check my facts. Blogging IS different, after all. However, bloggers often provide an informal discussion of my favorite sports teams. Some of them provide news and content that can compete with the pros, and I respect that. I also respect fans with attitude, even if it's more gossip and goofiness than actual news. I work odd hours and I'm not always able to get together with friends or go to a bar to talk about the game. Regular journalism is not adequate in these areas. Neither bloggers nor journalists are heroes or villains. I suspect a more balanced way of looking at this problem is this: Sportwriting is becoming more informal. Increased access creates community and offers more opportunities for people to share their voices. It's also likely to create a dip in certain standards of professionalism. We can love this or hate this, but it's not likely to go anywhere.