Axel Kohagen

We're Still Doing This? (Twins 3 Rangers 2 -- Game 133) Forgot this was a solid win until a Rangers fan reminded me of it on Twitter. Close game against a great pitcher and a good team. Twins win. I was more excited about another Morneau homer. Morneau may be Canadian, but his backstory makes him a real American hero. Brash but charming slugger finds early success, suffers a career- (and life-) threatening injury, and is just now getting to the part where the audience stands back on their feet. Rudy and all that. Loss of a Load-Bearer (Twins 1 Rangers 2 -- Game 134) Twins lost, 1-2. That's all that need be said about the game. The real loss came when the Twins traded Morneau to the Pirates for puzzle pieces that can't be properly appraised yet. I heard the news that day on a tweet from Aaron Gleeman. Gleeman's tweets and the Twins official tweets are both sent to my phone, but Gleeman's are usually faster and better. Of course, this means I also notice everything he ever tweets ever and risk getting blocked and banned by him, but I'm never behind on Twins news. Ever. I'm happy to see Morneau back with "Let's Hear It for Franky" Liriano in Pittsburgh, but I'm going to miss him. He has perfected the ultimate baseball combo of having a chip on his shoulder and a smirk in the corner of his mouth. I used to think maybe Trevor Plouffe was waiting in the wings to fill this role, but I don't think so now. The Twins have a long way to go to put some punch on this team again. When they do, though, will they just trade it away? No Twins Hat in the Mirror (Twins 4 Rangers 2 -- Game 135) Without the promise of a post-season to entice me, there's no way the Twins game can keep me from a Sunday nap. Morneau trade compensation player Alex Presley had himself a nice game. Correia acquitted himself nicely. Twins win the series 2 to 3 and most Twins fans are probably still bloated on State Fair food. I always thought of myself as the kind of Twins fan who was in it for thick and thin. Looking back on my recent posts, I'm a crappy fair-weather cheerleader who doesn't have the time of day for ballplayers who can't win to breaking even. I doubt that'll change any time soon, but it's worth remembering the next time I think about cussing out those whiny, drama-starting Twitter personalities who know just what not to say, then say it. Evolutionarily speaking, we're not that far removed.

Slam the Door (Twins 1 Royals 6 - Game 130) I won't pretend any interest in following this game. A certain combination of real life emergencies left my family shell-shocked and living in a bunker mentality. This delayed my game recaps, and as you can imagine that delay was the least of our concerns. I woke up from a nap that felt like a flatline to the Twins taking the fall on a heavy-hitting eighth inning. A score like that tells me I didn't miss anything by skipping out on the cleats and stirrups set for the evening. In fact, in a world of real life, the Minnesota Twins feel increasing less real and more like an outdated social nicety. You know, like not answering the phone during dinner. I don't want to be bitter, but I feel like I'm providing more spark in this relationship than the team is. Why So Undemanding? (Twins 1 Royals 8 - Game 131) Referencing goth-rock legends Sisters of Mercy in my recap title doesn't bode well for my mood regarding Minnesota baseball. Albers fever, as a fad, sure didn't have much to it. The day of this game, people were really stretching to keep Miley Cyrus's performance socially relevant. It's a fickle world. Morneau hit a home run, putting him within range of 20 in a nice bounce-back season. That's one thing to cheer for. I've already had one conversation with a friend about how we can't even remember what it felt like to be excited about a ballgame. Earlier in the season, some folks on the Internet were demanding bullpen cars for Target Field. If they brought those cars into play now - and be honest - is there anything else fans would remember about the season? This Feels Like a Dumping (Twins 1 Royals 3 - Game 132) A Bruce Chen beating. A Royals sweep. At Target Field. Deduno doesn't get much done. I caught part of this one on the radio, and I didn't feel like life was doing me any favors. It occurred to me that switching over the Pirates would even allow me more access to watching the team. Thanks to blackout restrictions, I can't watch my Twins without navigating the cable waters. However, taking advantage of late season discounts could have me watching a whole lot of Pirates games. The autograph party and various Pro-Shop signing used to keep me connected to the team. Now it's Twins Unplugged and fancy events. Even the radio station, when the games aren't playing, feels like it's talking to someone else. A someone else who buys a whole lot of Greatest Hits CDs. I'm complaining, but I'm not demanding. This may be a fit for a lot of fans, and the Twins and those fans have every right to enjoy themselves and be happy. I just feel like I signed on for a tough and humble bunch of athletes who really connected with the fans. Now, the whole vibe of the team feels like it's separated by a plastic sneeze guard and snotty receptionist. Does a bad mood and rough month cloud my judgment? It's worth considering. But if this sickly gut feeling resonates with other fans out there, maybe it isn't just me.

Cheating On My Mind (Twins 5 Indians 1 - Game 127) I missed cheering for Deduno, who held the Indians to 3 hits in 6 innings. I was excited after the game ended, but I forgot Close Encounter of the Wild Kind took the mound. Truth is, Twins gang, I’ve been sending all my hopes and dreams down Pittsburgh’s way. If the Pirates have a winning season I’ll screech in joy. If they make the playoffs I’ll hit a sports bar to watch. The Pirates have made for a nice baseball mistress over the years. Cheering for them always felt charitable. Also, my Cubs-loving friend always poo-poos my claims the Pirates were going to worm their way out of baseball hell. If they pull this off, I get to poo-poo all over him. And with Frankie Liriano pitching himself silly for the team? I couldn’t love them more. I still get excited to check scores at night, but now it’s for another team. Don’t judge me, because I know most of you have another baseball team to be the delight of your dog days of summer. Twins won. Pirates won. Guess everybody won, huh? Leading With My Gut (Twins 2 Indians 7 - Game 128) At Twins Fest, I told Liam Hendriks he was going to bounce back this year. I believed it in my gut. I told Kubel the same thing before his final year with the Twins, and look how well he did. I left that autograph line smugly convinced I’d heralded the coming of greatness. Now, Hendriks only cameos with the Twins, and he gave up 7 runs on 7 hits in under 5 innings. More proof – if any was needed – that gut instincts tend to be the end result of finishing a story as best you see fit, not as the evidence suggests it will happen. If your gut ever let you down, tip a beverage to all things statistical. Imagine what baseball teams would look like if everyone led with their guts. Body Blows (Twins 1 Indians 3 - Game 129) Pelfrey was another gut instinct nightmare for me. I can’t help it. Once I think a pitcher’s going to break out, I never give up that belief. Pelfrey got filed in my “Watch That Man” bin and he’ll never leave, even if he develops a life-threatening allergy to baseballs or is shot into space. You’d think I still believed in Santa Claus. Pelfrey gave plenty of evidence that he will not be the Twins pitcher of the future. He was edged out by Cleveland pitcher Scott Kazmir, another pitcher from my “Watch That Man” file. Kazmir’s probably not reaching the pantheon of greatness, either. My gut instincts need a few thousand crunches and a double dose of reality. Twins lose. Pirates lose. I was riding high back on Friday.

Focal Point (Twins 6 Tigers 3 -- Games 124) The Twins win, but do so with an albatross hanging around their neck. An albatross with a catcher's mask and sideburns. Joe Mauer sat out this game and ended up on the 7 day concussion DL. This has the potential to be beyond bad. Mauer is the reference point that holds the Twins in position. If his efficacy is limited or destroyed by the lingering side effects of a concussion, down goes up and up goes down. In these trying times, I watch the scores thinking "At least Joe's out there, getting on base and staying focused." Now, what do I have left? An okay start by Mike Pelfrey? You can't build on that. Snooze 'N Lose (Twins 1 Tigers 7 -- Games 125) I played this baseball game between my ears as I settled in for a hump day nap. The score was still nothing nothing. I put my feet over my trusty Great Dane, who grudgingly agreed to share the couch with me. I imagined the focus in the eyes of each pitcher as they threw pitch after pitch of a near legendary duel. There's something in pitcher's duels that feels peaceful, like scales that are completely balanced. This was not such an event. Sometime after my eyes shut, Correia took a metaphoric rapier to the crotch and lost the duel. Such is how a tiring season drags itself into September. The Great Wall of No (Twins 7 Tigers 6 -- Games 126) Justin Verlander is a Great Wall of No to opposing hitters, but somehow the lowly Twins found a way to get around him today. Doumit, my favorite Danzig-trumpting ballplayer, blasted a home run. Late-inning hero Chris Herrmann went 3 for 5. A game I wouldn't have guessed the Twins would win, but some how the team with the out-of-focus future won. But wait, is there a lone sob to be heard in this victory? Albers gave up 9 hits in 5.2 innings, and his ERA is mortal again? I always wonder if it was really fun when it lasted, or if it just hurts that much more when it ends. Hope he comes back to where he was, of course, but this is where he is now. Actually, this is kind of where all the Twins are now, victory or not.

(Twins 1 Mets 6 -- Game 123) Today, two teams who won't get near the playoffs came together to play one final game that didn't mean much of anything. Except the Twins still lost. Pitcher Kyle Gibson lost his job, too. I decided years ago he was going to be the future of the organization, so I made plans to stick with him throughout his ups and downs so I could say I always knew he'd be an ace. I willed it, but it didn't happen. I can't say I'm sure anymore, which means I have tumbled off of the Kyle Gibson bandwagon after all. I'd tell you I'll never give up just to look stalwart for the fanbase, but I know any my heart I don't expect anything beyond fourth or fifth starter for him. I'm not saying I'm an expert at anything, except at being cynical and reacting too emotionally.

(Twins 4 White Sox 3 -- Game 119) Twins win on a walk-off hit from Chris Herrmann. That's a memory he'll keep in his back pocket forever. Pelfrey made a game of it on the mound. Maybe there's something to him, but I don't know if I can take another season of wondering what's going to end up on the Target Field mound, and what pitch its arm will fall off while throwing. What are the chances it's going to get better, though? I'm as optimistic about the future of Twins pitching as I was about finding a movie on VHS worth watching at the local gas station when I was a kid. Second Date (Twins 3 White Sox 5 -- Game 120) Mauer starting things off with a home run, so you'd think someone as polite as Joe Mauer would apologize for the let-down that was the rest of the game. Correia has a two year contract with the Twins, which reminds me of my personal rule to never commit to a formal event date with someone you just started dating. You don't want to have to put on finery to wince at a buffoon all night. I Got Somethin' To Say (Twins 5 White Sox 8 -- Game 121) Doumit went 2 for 4 with a home run and 2 RBI on the same night metal icon Danzig crooned the catcher's walk-up song, "Mother," to a bouncy bunch of black-clad headbangers. If omens and dramatic timing meant anything in the real world, the Twins would've won. Albers slipped out of his heroic narrative and left the baseball floating in the real world, where the hits kept coming. Danzig brought out the hits, too. He's in his fifties but he moves pretty well from station to station, hitting the right notes and howling with the best of them. I had so much fun the sweaty fist I took to my package didn't ruin the evening. Maybe next time I oughta be more like ballplayer and wear a cup. Puppy Love (Twins 2 White Sox 5 -- Game 122) On my way back from meeting my parents and their six week old Dalmatian puppy at a park south of the Cities, I asked my cell phone if I wanted to bother trying to tune in the Twins game, already in progress, on the car stereo. My phone said no. I put the iPod on shuffle and shrieked along. My parents new puppy will be a Vikings fan, and will likely have her own little jersey. My beloved Great Dane has a Twins bandana. Pets are people, too, and they cheer for our teams whether they like it or not. I wonder if they make any connections in their doggy minds. When their owners put on certain clothes, at certain times, they start yelling and making too much noise. Sometimes they force ill-fitting outfits onto puppy bodies (GUILTY!). If pets doctored humans, they'd consider sports a virus. This season certainly is.

We’re So Happy, Andrew Albers (Twins 3 Indians 0 – Game 116) Andrew Albers must’ve felt relieved when he finally hit the sack last night. He picked the Twins up with his right arm, the Twins fans up with his left, and still pitched a complete game shutout. That’s a lot of weight to haul around. I miss watching the games on cable more as the season stumbles toward a finish. Carroll’s gone to the Royals, who are eyeing life beyond the season finish. Even if the players don’t get cut or traded, they’ll be hibernating for the winter. Gotta love a brand new pitcher who can warm a town’s heart, even if his fastball didn’t bring much heat. Conjuring Hits (Twins 5 Indians 2 – Game 117) I silenced my electronic score updating machine and settled into the movie theater to give The Conjuring a chance to scare the crap out of me. The hit horror flick didn’t have the stuff to get it done, and when I pulled my phone out of my pocket the Twins didn’t have the good stuff, either. And after Andrew Albers mania announced itself to the world, I had high hopes for both the movie and the game. Scaring people with a movie is basically pitching. Disrupting timing. The scares The Conjuring pitched to me got left hanging over the plate, and I never felt unsettled. The good ones, like the original The Haunting, The Shining, or Rosemary’s Baby, leave you shaken. Andrew Albers is getting hyped up, too. People trip over themselves to be the first to proclaim a new scariest movie or scariest pitcher, because both are rare and beautiful. Also, both rarely live up to the hype. Blown Ending (Twins 9 Indians 8 – Game 118) Things would be neater if the Twins had won this game. Fans are still giddy with Albers fever, and the Twins put up a four run lead and held on. Until they let go and lost the game. I heard the Giambi home run on the radio and I could feel it in my bones. From there the game got energetic, almost pleasantly spiteful. Mauer paired his supernatural ability to get base hits with a dramatic home run, putting him at 5 for 7 for the day and keeping the Twins alive in the game’s late innings. Great story, but it ended more Bad News Bears than Major League. I wanted to be pissy about the loss, but I couldn’t. A good fight is a good fight. With fall crispness returning to the air, I’ll take any glory in a ballfield battle I can find.

A Grand Slam is Always Something (Twins 7 White Sox 5 -- Game 112) Even in a losing a season, a grand slam is something special. The Twins won the game, but even if they hadn’t, Morneau’s grand slam would have been something special. On the second to last pitch of a formerly 20-0 game, a grand slam is still special. Morneau hit two home runs in this game. I guess when you have to strain to see where you’ll be next year, you’re focused well past the skyline. And then you send the baseballs out of the ballpark in that direction. Spinning a Little Fiction (Twins 3 White Sox 2 – Game 113) Every run of this game was scored from a solo shot home run. It gave the Twins Twitter update folks a lot to crow about. I’ve invented my own version of the game. I’m positive it’s completely false, and I’m sure even a cursory look at the box score would disprove the tale I’m about to tell. Thing is, some stories are too important for me to worry about the truth. I like to think the Twins and White Sox talked during the first game, on the basepaths and between innings. I like to think they were sick of the grind of losing seasons and playing two games in a day. I like to think they made a pact. Every player would swing like mad, putting every bit of body mass from toe to head into it. Pitchers gave it everything they had, too. The only goal was swatting all those red stitches out of the ballpark. Five solo home runs. I like to pretend this would happen because this is how little boys would solve the problem. Sometimes, it’s nice to remember the spirit of sandlot boys lives in major league baseball. Music Is My Life (Twins 4 White Sox 5 – Game 114) I took advantage of a quiet night to listen to some albums I’d put onto my iPod but never really given the time of day to. In between revelations and disappointments, I took the time monitor a Twins game that was pretty much what a person would expect. Note: I still mentally categorize music by album, not on a song by song basis. The mp3 age may have made album guys like me dinosaurs, but I’ll always take my songs in themed bunches. Comparatively speaking, this makes me the equivalent of a baseball fan who hates fantasy baseball. Twins won the battle for my attention but lost the war. There was a wisp of hope in the ninth, but it didn’t amount to anything. I have to say the phrase “Addison Read replaces Donnie Veal” inspires pure baseball delight, doesn’t it? It just sounds basebally. Morneau and Arcia shared home run glories again, their careers in sync until school lets out for the winter. I hope the fall fireworks keep coming. Wake Up Cheering (Twins 5 White Sox 2 – Game 115) I’ve reached a point in my life where I require a Sunday nap. If this nap doesn’t happen, someone will pay for it later. I sometimes pretend I might skip this nap, but my wife and I both know I’m lying. This nap ended with a nice, soft breeze and a quick check of the cell phone. No score. I busied myself with getting awake and ready. When I came back to the phone, the Twins woke up as well. Two home runs, five runs, and I was wide awake. Three out of four is better than “ain’t bad,” so take that, Meatloaf. The Twins will leave U.S. Cellular behind to a team that’s doing far, far worse. Considering how rough it is for the South Siders, I can’t be mad they got two solo homers at the end of the ninth. You can’t over-salt scorched earth.

A Grand Slam is Always Something (Twins 7 White Sox 5 -- Game 112) Even in a losing a season, a grand slam is something special. The Twins won the game, but even if they hadn’t, Morneau’s grand slam would have been something special. On the second to last pitch of a formerly 20-0 game, a grand slam is still special. Morneau hit two home runs in this game. I guess when you have to strain to see where you’ll be next year, you’re focused well past the skyline. And then you send the baseballs out of the ballpark in that direction. Spinning a Little Fiction (Twins 3 White Sox 2 – Game 113) Every run of this game was scored from a solo shot home run. It gave the Twins Twitter update folks a lot to crow about. I’ve invented my own version of the game. I’m positive it’s completely false, and I’m sure even a cursory look at the box score would disprove the tale I’m about to tell. Thing is, some stories are too important for me to worry about the truth. I like to think the Twins and White Sox talked during the first game, on the basepaths and between innings. I like to think they were sick of the grind of losing seasons and playing two games in a day. I like to think they made a pact. Every player would swing like mad, putting every bit of body mass from toe to head into it. Pitchers gave it everything they had, too. The only goal was swatting all those red stitches out of the ballpark. Five solo home runs. I like to pretend this would happen because this is how little boys would solve the problem. Sometimes, it’s nice to remember the spirit of sandlot boys lives in major league baseball. Music Is My Life (Twins 4 White Sox 5 – Game 114) I took advantage of a quiet night to listen to some albums I’d put onto my iPod but never really given the time of day to. In between revelations and disappointments, I took the time monitor a Twins game that was pretty much what a person would expect. Note: I still mentally categorize music by album, not on a song by song basis. The mp3 age may have made album guys like me dinosaurs, but I’ll always take my songs in themed bunches. Comparatively speaking, this makes me the equivalent of a baseball fan who hates fantasy baseball. Twins won the battle for my attention but lost the war. There was a wisp of hope in the ninth, but it didn’t amount to anything. I have to say the phrase “Addison Read replaces Donnie Veal” inspires pure baseball delight, doesn’t it? It just sounds basebally. Morneau and Arcia shared home run glories again, their careers in sync until school lets out for the winter. I hope the fall fireworks keep coming. Wake Up Cheering (Twins 5 White Sox 2 – Game 115) I’ve reached a point in my life where I require a Sunday nap. If this nap doesn’t happen, someone will pay for it later. I sometimes pretend I might skip this nap, but my wife and I both know I’m lying. This nap ended with a nice, soft breeze and a quick check of the cell phone. No score. I busied myself with getting awake and ready. When I came back to the phone, the Twins woke up as well. Two home runs, five runs, and I was wide awake. Three out of four is better than “ain’t bad,” so take that, Meatloaf. The Twins will leave U.S. Cellular behind to a team that’s doing far, far worse. Considering how rough it is for the South Siders, I can’t be mad they got two solo homers at the end of the ninth. You can’t over-salt scorched earth.

Crumb-Faced (Twins 0 Royals 13 – Game 109) I abandoned this game at 6-0, and all I missed was Jamey Carroll pitching a clean ninth inning. And a whole bunch of suffering. Checking the box score to see who stunk on the mound is like lining up elementary kids to see who has chocolate on their face after the cookie jar was emptied. This time, Correia and Pressly are crumb-bearded and cookie-handed. I’ve never been a pitcher at any level. Is there a point in a brutal shelling where you lose your grip on time and place and just let the baseballs shoot past you? Do you remember each time a guy crossed the plate, or is it just all cold flop sweat and blank memories at some point? After a sweep of the Astros, this game was a pantsing passport back to the reality of the 2013 baseball season. Don’t Can the Cheese (Twins 7 Royals 0 – Game 110) Twins smash the Royals at the plate and newcomer Andrew Albers couldn’t have made a finer major league entrance if he showed up in a tuxedo and ordered a martini. This would have been a nice game to catch, but I was out at The National that night instead of enjoying the national night out. I go to see a band singing the beauty of losing and the Twins win. There’s something in that. The real story here is a scandal, and it’s not the one with A-Rod. The New Britain Twins affiliate admitted to faking a failed marriage-cam proposal to create a viral video. This is an outrage, and it could shake the foundations of baseball as we know it. This not a drill. This is the real apocalypse. I get that baseball has to sweeten up the show to keep the homespun joy consistent for 162 games. I just don’t want them to get caught doing it. I mean, when a clown puts on facepaint it shouldn’t take phone calls about its retirement plan. Every stadium, for every game, needs to be a village gathered peacefully to share in the festivities. You can fake a mascot race, but don’t turn Americana into professional wrestling. Or at least don’t get caught doing it. Hold the Gap (Twins 5 Royals 2 – Game 111) The hits kept coming, but somehow Deduno kept this game reasonable. Only three strikeouts, too. No walks, and it looks like everything is improving from last year. Maybe slow growth is better, or maybe he’ll just join Diamond in Rochester next year. Still. I Want To Believe in the Deduno story. Most of the Twins batting averages are street addresses for the early part of the 200 block. I fear the day the new blood on the Twins team finally gives out and the losses pour through the collapse like flood water.

Crumb-Faced (Twins 0 Royals 13 – Game 109) I abandoned this game at 6-0, and all I missed was Jamey Carroll pitching a clean ninth inning. And a whole bunch of suffering. Checking the box score to see who stunk on the mound is like lining up elementary kids to see who has chocolate on their face after the cookie jar was emptied. This time, Correia and Pressly are crumb-bearded and cookie-handed. I’ve never been a pitcher at any level. Is there a point in a brutal shelling where you lose your grip on time and place and just let the baseballs shoot past you? Do you remember each time a guy crossed the plate, or is it just all cold flop sweat and blank memories at some point? After a sweep of the Astros, this game was a pantsing passport back to the reality of the 2013 baseball season. Don’t Can the Cheese (Twins 7 Royals 0 – Game 110) Twins smash the Royals at the plate and newcomer Andrew Albers couldn’t have made a finer major league entrance if he showed up in a tuxedo and ordered a martini. This would have been a nice game to catch, but I was out at The National that night instead of enjoying the national night out. I go to see a band singing the beauty of losing and the Twins win. There’s something in that. The real story here is a scandal, and it’s not the one with A-Rod. The New Britain Twins affiliate admitted to faking a failed marriage-cam proposal to create a viral video. This is an outrage, and it could shake the foundations of baseball as we know it. This not a drill. This is the real apocalypse. I get that baseball has to sweeten up the show to keep the homespun joy consistent for 162 games. I just don’t want them to get caught doing it. I mean, when a clown puts on facepaint it shouldn’t take phone calls about its retirement plan. Every stadium, for every game, needs to be a village gathered peacefully to share in the festivities. You can fake a mascot race, but don’t turn Americana into professional wrestling. Or at least don’t get caught doing it. Hold the Gap (Twins 5 Royals 2 – Game 111) The hits kept coming, but somehow Deduno kept this game reasonable. Only three strikeouts, too. No walks, and it looks like everything is improving from last year. Maybe slow growth is better, or maybe he’ll just join Diamond in Rochester next year. Still. I Want To Believe in the Deduno story. Most of the Twins batting averages are street addresses for the early part of the 200 block. I fear the day the new blood on the Twins team finally gives out and the losses pour through the collapse like flood water.

Road Goes On Forever (Twins 4 Astros 3– Game 105) Left a great time at Diversicon, a science fiction and fantasy convention, to find the Twins were still playing. The game was tug of war, and the rag tied onto the rope was still in the middle of the mudpit in the center. I’d spent the day with my mind wrapped around the business of writing the unreal and then bringing it to life (for more on my life out from under the baseball cap, click here). Listening to good old fashioned baseball soothed me. Baseball wasn’t far away at Diversicon, mind you. There was a TV playing the game in a meeting area, and I stopped by to check scores and comment on the wondrous world of Deduno. I left Bandana Square and drove past Midway Stadium, one baseball game on my stereo and another on my right. I kept driving as the game teetered and tottered but didn’t end. The game was still going on when I drove past Target Field, and it was going on when I collapsed into a comfy chair and found out the Twins won via Twitter. At a certain point, it seems fair to say baseball is its own magical world. It’s an altered reality with hot dogs and a seventh inning stretch. Pom Poms are Blooming (Twins 6 Astros 4 – Game 106) The short walk to my car tonight confirmed it. Get your sweatshirts ready, because football season is coming. Cheerleaders are at the ready, and right now some drunk dude is buying the groceries he’ll later eat and barf all over you. When football arrives at the party, baseball seems even more gentlemanly by comparison. There are a few stories left to finish in major league baseball, but lots of teams wrote out their final chapter before August began. Two of them played in Minneapolis tonight, and one of them won. Twin Hitters (Twins 3 Astros 2 – Game 107) Whenever the Twins sweep a series, it means the bedtime story ends with me imagining Ron Gardenhire saying “And they lived happily ever after.” It means there were ups and downs, but the Twins won every game they could. No shame in that game. Morneau and Arcia each hit home runs today. In fact, those home runs knocked in the only runs the Twins scored in the game. Luckily, three runs were all the team needed. Morneau hit his home run first. The slugger still has something in the tank, and the question on everyone’s mind how much, and how clean is that fuel going to burn? He might slip out of town on waivers or stay with the team till he retires, but we are measuring his time from the end of his career, not the beginning. Arcia hit a solo shot later. The lumps he’s taken as a rookie are probably still smarting, but he keeps making his way into the lineup. He’s just a few steps away from the start of his career, and the view from his path seems to have a few mountains worth noting. Today, they met for high fives. When you look at their progress on a bigger map, the distance between them is too far to reach across.

Road Goes On Forever (Twins 4 Astros 3– Game 105) Left a great time at Diversicon, a science fiction and fantasy convention, to find the Twins were still playing. The game was tug of war, and the rag tied onto the rope was still in the middle of the mudpit in the center. I’d spent the day with my mind wrapped around the business of writing the unreal and then bringing it to life (for more on my life out from under the baseball cap, click here). Listening to good old fashioned baseball soothed me. Baseball wasn’t far away at Diversicon, mind you. There was a TV playing the game in a meeting area, and I stopped by to check scores and comment on the wondrous world of Deduno. I left Bandana Square and drove past Midway Stadium, one baseball game on my stereo and another on my right. I kept driving as the game teetered and tottered but didn’t end. The game was still going on when I drove past Target Field, and it was going on when I collapsed into a comfy chair and found out the Twins won via Twitter. At a certain point, it seems fair to say baseball is its own magical world. It’s an altered reality with hot dogs and a seventh inning stretch. Pom Poms are Blooming (Twins 6 Astros 4 – Game 106) The short walk to my car tonight confirmed it. Get your sweatshirts ready, because football season is coming. Cheerleaders are at the ready, and right now some drunk dude is buying the groceries he’ll later eat and barf all over you. When football arrives at the party, baseball seems even more gentlemanly by comparison. There are a few stories left to finish in major league baseball, but lots of teams wrote out their final chapter before August began. Two of them played in Minneapolis tonight, and one of them won. Twin Hitters (Twins 3 Astros 2 – Game 107) Whenever the Twins sweep a series, it means the bedtime story ends with me imagining Ron Gardenhire saying “And they lived happily ever after.” It means there were ups and downs, but the Twins won every game they could. No shame in that game. Morneau and Arcia each hit home runs today. In fact, those home runs knocked in the only runs the Twins scored in the game. Luckily, three runs were all the team needed. Morneau hit his home run first. The slugger still has something in the tank, and the question on everyone’s mind how much, and how clean is that fuel going to burn? He might slip out of town on waivers or stay with the team till he retires, but we are measuring his time from the end of his career, not the beginning. Arcia hit a solo shot later. The lumps he’s taken as a rookie are probably still smarting, but he keeps making his way into the lineup. He’s just a few steps away from the start of his career, and the view from his path seems to have a few mountains worth noting. Today, they met for high fives. When you look at their progress on a bigger map, the distance between them is too far to reach across.

The Way the Ball Bounces (Twins 2 Royals 7 – Game 102) With the trade talk making the Minnesota Twins look like the garage sale everybody drives past, baseball kept being baseball. The game sounded great in my car, with the window down, and a few hints of fall in the breeze. Provus described a routine foul ball and it reminded me how elegant but complicated the game is. The ball goes in the air, affected by the way it was thrown, the way it was hit, and the atmospheric conditions with which it’s forced to contend. Universal truths, but so many ways for a ball to bounce. The nostalgia lasted about as long as Pelfrey did. I stopped seeing the forest and started seeing the trees (trees always being a sore subject for lovers of Target Field). I quit listening. When baseball has no chance at a postseason, you really just have to be there. Who Traded Catcher Robin? (Twins 3 Royals 4– Game 103) Butera is no longer a Minnesota Twin, but Justin Morneau is safe for now. Waiver wire wildness is on its way, and the Twins might still shed a player or two from their roster now that BreakEvening is totally unrealistic. Drew Butera was Robin on a team without a Batman. The boy wonder had his moments, and definitely handled his business behind the plate, but sidekicks need a different class of hero than the Twins have. Twins lose another one to the Royals, too. In the pop music world, there’s a song called “Royals” by Lorde. The ditty praises low-brow living, but this time it’s the Kansas City boys are showing more upward mobility. (Twins 2 Royals 7 – Game 104) Didn’t the Twins already lose 7-2 to the Royals this series? Is this like when college students just copy and paste old homework assignments and pass it off as brand new? While the door was still slamming shut from Butera’s departure, Scott Diamond and Aaron Hicks found out there is more than one way to exit a major league ballpark. The Aaron Hicks story is filled with false starts and painful slumps. I still think he gets it, and at least this means we get to see Oswaldo Arcia again. Diamond, though. A year of broken dreams is rough, and it scrubs away at a magical year of exceeding expectations until that story’s completely scraped away. Whatever comes back from Rochester will be a different man. Harder, perhaps, but maybe wiser and better as well.

The Way the Ball Bounces (Twins 2 Royals 7 – Game 102) With the trade talk making the Minnesota Twins look like the garage sale everybody drives past, baseball kept being baseball. The game sounded great in my car, with the window down, and a few hints of fall in the breeze. Provus described a routine foul ball and it reminded me how elegant but complicated the game is. The ball goes in the air, affected by the way it was thrown, the way it was hit, and the atmospheric conditions with which it’s forced to contend. Universal truths, but so many ways for a ball to bounce. The nostalgia lasted about as long as Pelfrey did. I stopped seeing the forest and started seeing the trees (trees always being a sore subject for lovers of Target Field). I quit listening. When baseball has no chance at a postseason, you really just have to be there. Who Traded Catcher Robin? (Twins 3 Royals 4– Game 103) Butera is no longer a Minnesota Twin, but Justin Morneau is safe for now. Waiver wire wildness is on its way, and the Twins might still shed a player or two from their roster now that BreakEvening is totally unrealistic. Drew Butera was Robin on a team without a Batman. The boy wonder had his moments, and definitely handled his business behind the plate, but sidekicks need a different class of hero than the Twins have. Twins lose another one to the Royals, too. In the pop music world, there’s a song called “Royals” by Lorde. The ditty praises low-brow living, but this time it’s the Kansas City boys are showing more upward mobility. (Twins 2 Royals 7 – Game 104) Didn’t the Twins already lose 7-2 to the Royals this series? Is this like when college students just copy and paste old homework assignments and pass it off as brand new? While the door was still slamming shut from Butera’s departure, Scott Diamond and Aaron Hicks found out there is more than one way to exit a major league ballpark. The Aaron Hicks story is filled with false starts and painful slumps. I still think he gets it, and at least this means we get to see Oswaldo Arcia again. Diamond, though. A year of broken dreams is rough, and it scrubs away at a magical year of exceeding expectations until that story’s completely scraped away. Whatever comes back from Rochester will be a different man. Harder, perhaps, but maybe wiser and better as well.

Daydream Disbeliever (Twins 2 Mariners 8 – Game 98) The Twins got knocked out early in this game, but everybody played nine innings anyway. During my little league tour of duty, I spent most of time at whichever part of the outfield they felt saved me from embarrassing attempts at fielding fly balls. If I was lucky and the ball stayed far away from my glove, I had nothing to do but daydream away until I was forced to humiliate myself at the plate. Getting blown out of the water early, one thousand miles from your fan base and further away from a shot at post-season baseball . . . I wonder if the Twins outfielders daydream as much as I did. Kinda warms my heart to think they’re out there, in a big league uniform with families and drunkards screaming all around them, and all they’re thinking about is what TV series they’re going to power through next on Netflix. If they’re hoping the softball players they have a crush on don’t see them strike out with three off-kilter swings, then I know exactly how they feel. Felix is a Real Cool Cat (Twins 3 Mariners 2 – Game 99) I never hate it when King Felix bests the Twins. I might lose home-team zealotry points for saying it, but it’s true. Seems like no matter who steps into the batter’s box, he’s got a fistful of answers to whatever questions they raise. I have warm feelings for the Mariners, and always will, just because of Ken Griffey Jr. The guys who knew sports (at this time in my life, I was not one of them) adored Junior without question or reservation. No athlete, except for Michael Jordan, could top him. The King didn’t have a full game in him, so both teams kept playing so rookie Chris Colabello could give the Twins a 13th inning lead, then the game. New growth under scorched earth, maybe. Epilogues and Codas (Twins 4 Mariners 0 – Game 100) I didn’t know it was a day game, but Twins basically won the thing before I noticed they were playing ball. It difficult, as a fan, to know the team can manage a victory without me fretting over them. I like to think they need me. Morneau hit a homer. Moments like this are quick jabs to the heart. The badass brawler who came up with the team already became a husband and father, and then disaster arrived with a knee to the helmet. Morneau developed a grimness, but he didn’t quit. Now he might end up being traded, even if his trade value is nothing like it would’ve been, once. No matter how likely or unlikely a trade is, fans mark each event from a point of future nostalgia. “That was his last game as a Twin.” “That was his last home run as a Twin.” “That was his last shaving creamed towel to the face as a Twin.” I talked about Chris Colabello as new growth under the burned-out wreckage of past winning seasons. There’s growth everywhere, even if some of it’s not immediately growing straight up to the sky. Sano’s going through some attitude-related growing pains, but at his age, that’s what he’s supposed to do. Somehow, Deduno still has the capacity to fascinate. Whether or not he’s for real, he’s demonstrated a deeper root structure than I would have expected. A new team is growing, and it looks like Morneau is old growth. No Colabello Getaway (Twins 4 Mariners 6 – Game 101) Tiny sparks of life weren’t enough to turn a day game into a Twins victory, but they were there just the same. Chris Colabello slugged another home run. Maybe he won’t grow into a Twins landmark, but he might have a place in the ecosystem. Elsewhere, Miguel Sano gets back to the business of baseball, perhaps a step closer to being big-league ready. The fans tidy up their houses to prepare for jobs on Monday, and the Twins do some travelling. When the Twins set up shop in Target Field again, fans will suddenly realize there aren’t as many home games left as they thought.

Daydream Disbeliever (Twins 2 Mariners 8 – Game 98) The Twins got knocked out early in this game, but everybody played nine innings anyway. During my little league tour of duty, I spent most of time at whichever part of the outfield they felt saved me from embarrassing attempts at fielding fly balls. If I was lucky and the ball stayed far away from my glove, I had nothing to do but daydream away until I was forced to humiliate myself at the plate. Getting blown out of the water early, one thousand miles from your fan base and further away from a shot at post-season baseball . . . I wonder if the Twins outfielders daydream as much as I did. Kinda warms my heart to think they’re out there, in a big league uniform with families and drunkards screaming all around them, and all they’re thinking about is what TV series they’re going to power through next on Netflix. If they’re hoping the softball players they have a crush on don’t see them strike out with three off-kilter swings, then I know exactly how they feel. Felix is a Real Cool Cat (Twins 3 Mariners 2 – Game 99) I never hate it when King Felix bests the Twins. I might lose home-team zealotry points for saying it, but it’s true. Seems like no matter who steps into the batter’s box, he’s got a fistful of answers to whatever questions they raise. I have warm feelings for the Mariners, and always will, just because of Ken Griffey Jr. The guys who knew sports (at this time in my life, I was not one of them) adored Junior without question or reservation. No athlete, except for Michael Jordan, could top him. The King didn’t have a full game in him, so both teams kept playing so rookie Chris Colabello could give the Twins a 13th inning lead, then the game. New growth under scorched earth, maybe. Epilogues and Codas (Twins 4 Mariners 0 – Game 100) I didn’t know it was a day game, but Twins basically won the thing before I noticed they were playing ball. It difficult, as a fan, to know the team can manage a victory without me fretting over them. I like to think they need me. Morneau hit a homer. Moments like this are quick jabs to the heart. The badass brawler who came up with the team already became a husband and father, and then disaster arrived with a knee to the helmet. Morneau developed a grimness, but he didn’t quit. Now he might end up being traded, even if his trade value is nothing like it would’ve been, once. No matter how likely or unlikely a trade is, fans mark each event from a point of future nostalgia. “That was his last game as a Twin.” “That was his last home run as a Twin.” “That was his last shaving creamed towel to the face as a Twin.” I talked about Chris Colabello as new growth under the burned-out wreckage of past winning seasons. There’s growth everywhere, even if some of it’s not immediately growing straight up to the sky. Sano’s going through some attitude-related growing pains, but at his age, that’s what he’s supposed to do. Somehow, Deduno still has the capacity to fascinate. Whether or not he’s for real, he’s demonstrated a deeper root structure than I would have expected. A new team is growing, and it looks like Morneau is old growth. No Colabello Getaway (Twins 4 Mariners 6 – Game 101) Tiny sparks of life weren’t enough to turn a day game into a Twins victory, but they were there just the same. Chris Colabello slugged another home run. Maybe he won’t grow into a Twins landmark, but he might have a place in the ecosystem. Elsewhere, Miguel Sano gets back to the business of baseball, perhaps a step closer to being big-league ready. The fans tidy up their houses to prepare for jobs on Monday, and the Twins do some travelling. When the Twins set up shop in Target Field again, fans will suddenly realize there aren’t as many home games left as they thought.

Behind the Maps (Twins 4 Angels 2 – Game 95) Putting the Twins on a West Coast road trip is like keeping something in your glove compartment. No matter how much you swear you won’t forget this time, your mind goes blank when it counts. California time victories are nice to find between smashes of the “snooze” button on my cell phone. It’s like getting a nice letter, except no one mails anything anymore. Even the junk mail people gave up the ghost years ago. Since there’s no reason to focus on postseason pipe dreams, I keep coming back to the old saying: “If there’s a jersey on your back, you still got a chance.” It’s a game, but most of life is a game. Especially the most important parts. Any game is a chance to tune in to perfection and start some kind of magical streak. Great moments get remembered after bad seasons fade away. Even if those great moments happen half a country away, against a team who reached for the crown and fell in the moat. MauerKinder (Twins 10 Angels 3 – Game 96) No one cared about the game tonight. The Minnesotan Royal Babies were coming, and Papa Joe Mauer left on a jet plane to meet his kids at the plate. Twitter exploded in joy, then made the comparisons to the royal birth in England and exploded all over again. Mauer is tied to this region so deep it goes past DNA into the soul of the state itself. His days as kid ballplayer were already finished. Now, he’s a new father. If you’re sipping from a half-full glass, you’ll appreciate the beauty of change. See things half empty and it’s just another sign time moves too damned fast to keep up. So the game got left behind, but it still got played because that’s the whole point of everything. This game kept going so Chris Herrmann could hit his first career grand slam in extra innings. It’s the smallest moment in a losing season, and Herrmann isn’t on track to be a superstar. But the game doesn’t stop giving out great stories and moments of heroism just because the season is already over for a team. Nothing But Bathwater (Twins 0 Angels 1 – Game 97) We have MauerBabies. Twin girls with beautiful names. It’s a perfect hometown and hugs moment from the man who looks perfectly natural posing next to dairy products. Later on, former Twin Francisco Liriano turned heads by pitching an excellent game against the Nationals. If he can’t be our hero, I’m okay with him saving the day in Pittsburgh. It’s karmic. In between these events, the Twins played and lost. They turned in a bland 0-1 scorecard and the loss hit me with all the force of a bored shrug. With hope gone, baseball’s much bigger than games and scores. The race turned into a Sunday drive through the country, and suddenly the scenery matters.