Axel Kohagen

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.

Honestly, I can go between 1 and 10 in a single day, maybe even during a single game. Maybe even during one at bat. I guess "mercurial" would be the best word. I prefer highly emotional. When I watch any game, the Twins are simultaneously the greatest team to ever play baseball and lousy bums. My objectivity is shot. For me, their can be no greater testament of love than this chaotic insanity. Go Twins!

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.

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.

I agree those players still have potential. I just don't think the Twins can afford to wait on them.

Nishioka's demotion to Rochester woke the Internet like a robin singing. At that moment, Spring Training truly arrived. Players without unquestionable abilities are now assets, each compared to similar players and measured for potential value for the team. When someone like Nishioka is cut early, it adds drama to the entire process. He represents a large investment of time and money, and sending him to the minors so quickly says a lot. This leaves the Twins with a bench spot to fill, and a whole lot of underwhelming players left to fill it. It seems like a good time to remember one of Bill James' 10 Commandments of Sabermetrics. "Place thy faith not in veterans, when youth be available to ye." Every season, it seems like the Twins trust in some known quantity ballplayer over taking the chance on a younger player with more potential. Some of those players live up to expectations (Orlandos Hudson and Cabrera acquitted themselves nicely). Others came and left as ghosts of their former selves (Adam Everett and Mike Lamb come to mind). Some are bench players who leave the team without doing much more than handling a glove most of the time and handling a bat more infrequently (Nick Punto representing the best case scenario here, Matt Tolbert the worst). Right now, the Twins need to re-consider the opportunity cost of trotting their veterans out for another season of the same-old, same-old. Players like Luke Hughes, Alex Burnett, Drew Butera, and Jeff Manship have been in the league long enough to evaluate. If the Twins were a stable, productive team, banking on their continued adequacy might make more sense. However, the Twins need big rewards, and that means they need to take big risks. Since it'd be ridiculous to assume every big risk would pan out (see, for example, Joel Zumaya), the Twins need to take lots of risks. This may mean risking a 100 loss season, but it might mean finding 1 or 2 players to build on for 2013. With storm clouds gathering over Justin Morneau and Scott Baker, playing it safe won't uncover new talent. No fan wants another failed season, but paying for one failed season costs less than paying for a string of less-disappointing seasons, if that string stretches on for years and years.

Nishioka's demotion to Rochester woke the Internet like a robin singing. At that moment, Spring Training truly arrived. Players without unquestionable abilities are now assets, each compared to similar players and measured for potential value for the team. When someone like Nishioka is cut early, it adds drama to the entire process. He represents a large investment of time and money, and sending him to the minors so quickly says a lot. This leaves the Twins with a bench spot to fill, and a whole lot of underwhelming players left to fill it. It seems like a good time to remember one of Bill James' 10 Commandments of Sabermetrics. "Place thy faith not in veterans, when youth be available to ye." Every season, it seems like the Twins trust in some known quantity ballplayer over taking the chance on a younger player with more potential. Some of those players live up to expectations (Orlandos Hudson and Cabrera acquitted themselves nicely). Others came and left as ghosts of their former selves (Adam Everett and Mike Lamb come to mind). Some are bench players who leave the team without doing much more than handling a glove most of the time and handling a bat more infrequently (Nick Punto representing the best case scenario here, Matt Tolbert the worst). Right now, the Twins need to re-consider the opportunity cost of trotting their veterans out for another season of the same-old, same-old. Players like Luke Hughes, Alex Burnett, Drew Butera, and Jeff Manship have been in the league long enough to evaluate. If the Twins were a stable, productive team, banking on their continued adequacy might make more sense. However, the Twins need big rewards, and that means they need to take big risks. Since it'd be ridiculous to assume every big risk would pan out (see, for example, Joel Zumaya), the Twins need to take lots of risks. This may mean risking a 100 loss season, but it might mean finding 1 or 2 players to build on for 2013. With storm clouds gathering over Justin Morneau and Scott Baker, playing it safe won't uncover new talent. No fan wants another failed season, but paying for one failed season costs less than paying for a string of less-disappointing seasons, if that string stretches on for years and years.

This morning, I sat down with my granola and Diet Mountain Dew, ready to begin my day. As my hindquarters hit the couch, and before my hand could reach the remote, I noticed a strange presence sitting in a chair in my living room. I was surprised, but somehow I recognized this intruder. "Jason Tyner?" I asked. Tyner nodded. "How did you get in my living room?" "You're imagining me here," he said. His mouth did not move. "You've been avoiding me inside your own brain, and I had to appear to you before the 2012 Twins baseball season begins." "What message do you bear, spirit?" I asked. The Tyner-hallucination slapped its forehead in disgust. "Stop being a diva," he said. "Do you remember when I hit my one home run, ever, as a major leaguer? You thought to yourself I was going to be an All-Star after that." "Maybe," I said. "Don't lie to your own imagination!" the Tyner said. "I guess I just got hopeful," I said. My granola was getting soggy. "Remember when you said Mike Lamb would solve the Twins infield problems, and then that Joe Crede would? And then that Nishioka would?" "Okay," I said. "Remember when you thought Livan Hernandez and Ramon Ortiz were going to be amazing starters for a whole season? Remember saying the 2009 Tigers wouldn't be successful because they were too good?" "Fine. I get it," I said. "What's your point?" "Your brain wants you to stop being such a homer, because if you don't you're just going to be a giant, whiny mess by July. You gotta love the game for what it is, not the best case scenario you've concocted in your head. Stop setting yourself up for disappointment." "Like when you ended your career after getting traded for . . ." "This isn't about me," the spectral-Tyner said. "I came here for a reason. There's something you need to realize before this season begins." He held up a picture, and I screamed out loud. He began to fade out of existence. "You knew it was that already. You know you did," Tyner said as he slowly disappeared. He was right, but like all of the other disappointments he had mentioned, I was trying to keep from thinking about it. In his hand, the spirit had held a picture of Scott Baker's elbow.

This morning, I sat down with my granola and Diet Mountain Dew, ready to begin my day. As my hindquarters hit the couch, and before my hand could reach the remote, I noticed a strange presence sitting in a chair in my living room. I was surprised, but somehow I recognized this intruder. "Jason Tyner?" I asked. Tyner nodded. "How did you get in my living room?" "You're imagining me here," he said. His mouth did not move. "You've been avoiding me inside your own brain, and I had to appear to you before the 2012 Twins baseball season begins." "What message do you bear, spirit?" I asked. The Tyner-hallucination slapped its forehead in disgust. "Stop being a diva," he said. "Do you remember when I hit my one home run, ever, as a major leaguer? You thought to yourself I was going to be an All-Star after that." "Maybe," I said. "Don't lie to your own imagination!" the Tyner said. "I guess I just got hopeful," I said. My granola was getting soggy. "Remember when you said Mike Lamb would solve the Twins infield problems, and then that Joe Crede would? And then that Nishioka would?" "Okay," I said. "Remember when you thought Livan Hernandez and Ramon Ortiz were going to be amazing starters for a whole season? Remember saying the 2009 Tigers wouldn't be successful because they were too good?" "Fine. I get it," I said. "What's your point?" "Your brain wants you to stop being such a homer, because if you don't you're just going to be a giant, whiny mess by July. You gotta love the game for what it is, not the best case scenario you've concocted in your head. Stop setting yourself up for disappointment." "Like when you ended your career after getting traded for . . ." "This isn't about me," the spectral-Tyner said. "I came here for a reason. There's something you need to realize before this season begins." He held up a picture, and I screamed out loud. He began to fade out of existence. "You knew it was that already. You know you did," Tyner said as he slowly disappeared. He was right, but like all of the other disappointments he had mentioned, I was trying to keep from thinking about it. In his hand, the spirit had held a picture of Scott Baker's elbow.

12 March, 2012. Ft. Myers, Florida. I trust this Letter finds you Well and in Good Health and Spirit. Tell Mother I miss her Hot Dish Casserole every Day. I fear this Baseball Season will be what We feared it would be when this Spring Training Campaign began. It is now mid-March, as you can see, and we are still faced with the same Questions of last Year's horrid and shameful Defeat. The Artillery was splendid yesterday, on 11 March 2012, but surely that one sublime Gift of Providence cannot mask our lack of long ranged Attack Options. The loss of splendid Players like Cuddy and Thome have done little to brighten our Moods. Indeed, some still moan the loss of the one they called Hardy. We expect to defend Ourselves from The Heathen Foe, but for how long? The Men who lead our Defensive Efforts have not proven able, and yet have much Experience on the Field of Battle. Baker and Liriano show Flashes of True Inspiration, then fall into D---ed Slumps and are Themselves oft wounded. Pavano maintains a hearty Character full of Grit, yet he has aged so. I do not think I like the looks of this Marquis, and the less said about the one called Blackburn the better. It is difficult to write with any Conviction or Certainty in the time of Preparation, yet one Thing remains clear - There is much to be cautious about in this 2012 Campaign. Mr. H. Pants, Esq. PS - If they are to begin singing that "Chicken Fried" Song again, I shall not be able to restrain from splashing my Vomit on the Dugout Floor.

12 March, 2012. Ft. Myers, Florida. I trust this Letter finds you Well and in Good Health and Spirit. Tell Mother I miss her Hot Dish Casserole every Day. I fear this Baseball Season will be what We feared it would be when this Spring Training Campaign began. It is now mid-March, as you can see, and we are still faced with the same Questions of last Year's horrid and shameful Defeat. The Artillery was splendid yesterday, on 11 March 2012, but surely that one sublime Gift of Providence cannot mask our lack of long ranged Attack Options. The loss of splendid Players like Cuddy and Thome have done little to brighten our Moods. Indeed, some still moan the loss of the one they called Hardy. We expect to defend Ourselves from The Heathen Foe, but for how long? The Men who lead our Defensive Efforts have not proven able, and yet have much Experience on the Field of Battle. Baker and Liriano show Flashes of True Inspiration, then fall into D---ed Slumps and are Themselves oft wounded. Pavano maintains a hearty Character full of Grit, yet he has aged so. I do not think I like the looks of this Marquis, and the less said about the one called Blackburn the better. It is difficult to write with any Conviction or Certainty in the time of Preparation, yet one Thing remains clear - There is much to be cautious about in this 2012 Campaign. Mr. H. Pants, Esq. PS - If they are to begin singing that "Chicken Fried" Song again, I shall not be able to restrain from splashing my Vomit on the Dugout Floor.

Last year, as some of you know, I wrote an online novel called The HooseCows. It's about an independent league baseball team where broken ballplayers try to find peace dealing with ballpark ghosts and bad people. It's available at http://www.cfcows.com. Currently, I'm preparing it for publication. The problem is I missed writing fiction, and I wanted to write something else. I missed having a story to tell, so there was only one thing to do . . . The new story will have under 5% baseball, and I won't be promoting it here because it wouldn't fit in. However, if you were a fan of The HooseCows, you might like this novel. It takes place in Iowa and deals with love and death for men who live for guitars, bars, and drinking by the river. Thanks for letting me have a moment of your time, folks. http://cfcows.com/2012/03/11/the-lonely-bed/

Last year, as some of you know, I wrote an online novel called The HooseCows. It's about an independent league baseball team where broken ballplayers try to find peace dealing with ballpark ghosts and bad people. It's available at http://www.cfcows.com. Currently, I'm preparing it for publication. The problem is I missed writing fiction, and I wanted to write something else. I missed having a story to tell, so there was only one thing to do . . . The new story will have under 5% baseball, and I won't be promoting it here because it wouldn't fit in. However, if you were a fan of The HooseCows, you might like this novel. It takes place in Iowa and deals with love and death for men who live for guitars, bars, and drinking by the river. Thanks for letting me have a moment of your time, folks. http://cfcows.com/2012/03/11/the-lonely-bed/

In my continuing quest to improve the ferocity of Target Field Walk-Up Music, I have had an epiphany. For around a 100 years, horror movies have hired composers to add intensity to the moment. Why not go with the professionals on this one? After all, some of the Twins players could use a jolt of intensity in the pysch-out department. Here are some horror themes that would sound mighty smart pumping out the speakers at the ballgame. Song: "Psycho: A Suite for Strings" Composer: Bernard Herrmann Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in 100. Although well-know, it does its job a little too well. Instead of intimidating opposing players, it'd leave them wondering if the hitter kept Mother in the fruit cellar on road trips. Potential Player: Glen Perkins, taking the mound. He's enough of a smart-ass to do it, and it kind of fits his whirling dervish attitude. Song: "Theme from Jaws" Composer: John Williams Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in 10. It probably shouldn't be used, because it's famous enough to be a cliche. Also, it'd seem really silly if the player grounded out weakly to first instead of launching one skyward. Potential Player: Ben Revere. Because it may be a little mean, but it's a lot funny. Song: "Godzilla Main Title" Composer: Akira Ifukube Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in 4. It's got all the right moments for anticipating and cheering. Also, it's not so over-the-top that a lackluster at bat makes it seem ridiculous. Potential Player: Justin Morneau. If he rises from the sea ready to hit again, it'd be a sweet soundtrack for a second act. Especially if he's primarily a DH. Song: "The Thing" Composer: Ennio Morricone Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in a Billion. I know, it'd make more sense to use another classic John Carpenter film score -- Halloween. That said, stay with me on this. It's a slow, brooding song about the tension of what might be waiting just below the surface, ready to strike. Which makes it perfect for . . . Potential Player: Joe Mauer. Suddenly, all of the quiet grace of the Twins catcher becomes seething potential. Picture it. It's kinda neato. Song: "Gremlins - Suite" Composer: Jerry Goldsmith Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in a Billion. Still, it'd be a heckuva thing. This is a uptempo rag, with out of control energy and swagger. Potential Player: Alexi Casilla. Because, as with the song, you really aren't sure if he's got it under control.

In my continuing quest to improve the ferocity of Target Field Walk-Up Music, I have had an epiphany. For around a 100 years, horror movies have hired composers to add intensity to the moment. Why not go with the professionals on this one? After all, some of the Twins players could use a jolt of intensity in the pysch-out department. Here are some horror themes that would sound mighty smart pumping out the speakers at the ballgame. Song: "Psycho: A Suite for Strings" Composer: Bernard Herrmann Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in 100. Although well-know, it does its job a little too well. Instead of intimidating opposing players, it'd leave them wondering if the hitter kept Mother in the fruit cellar on road trips. Potential Player: Glen Perkins, taking the mound. He's enough of a smart-ass to do it, and it kind of fits his whirling dervish attitude. Song: "Theme from Jaws" Composer: John Williams Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in 10. It probably shouldn't be used, because it's famous enough to be a cliche. Also, it'd seem really silly if the player grounded out weakly to first instead of launching one skyward. Potential Player: Ben Revere. Because it may be a little mean, but it's a lot funny. Song: "Godzilla Main Title" Composer: Akira Ifukube Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in 4. It's got all the right moments for anticipating and cheering. Also, it's not so over-the-top that a lackluster at bat makes it seem ridiculous. Potential Player: Justin Morneau. If he rises from the sea ready to hit again, it'd be a sweet soundtrack for a second act. Especially if he's primarily a DH. Song: "The Thing" Composer: Ennio Morricone Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in a Billion. I know, it'd make more sense to use another classic John Carpenter film score -- Halloween. That said, stay with me on this. It's a slow, brooding song about the tension of what might be waiting just below the surface, ready to strike. Which makes it perfect for . . . Potential Player: Joe Mauer. Suddenly, all of the quiet grace of the Twins catcher becomes seething potential. Picture it. It's kinda neato. Song: "Gremlins - Suite" Composer: Jerry Goldsmith Chance of Actually Being Used: 1 in a Billion. Still, it'd be a heckuva thing. This is a uptempo rag, with out of control energy and swagger. Potential Player: Alexi Casilla. Because, as with the song, you really aren't sure if he's got it under control.

More likely that than seeing it get washed down the Rivera.