Axel Kohagen

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.

You can view the page at http://twinsdaily.com/content.php?r=2143-Green-Shoots-from-Broken-Bat-Rubble-(Twins-at-Mariners-Games-98-101)

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.

You can view the page at http://twinsdaily.com/content.php?r=2123-If-Twins-Play-In-CA-Does-Anyone-Remember-What-Time-(Twins-at-Angels-95-97)

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.

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.

You can view the page at http://twinsdaily.com/content.php?r=2108-End-of-Twins-Beginning-of-Baseball-(Twins-vs-Indians-92-94)

No More All-Star Moments (Twins 3 Indians 2 – Game 92) This is the story of the 2013 Twins, and there’s really not a whole lot left to cover in these remaining games. True believers will hold out for a miracle, a string of victories, and playoff glory. I love all things TC, but I can’t believe in this campfire tale. If it happens, I’ll jump on the bandwagon and stand in the parade like I always belonged there. The Twins came out of the All-Star Break plucky, like nobody told them the odds. Mauer and Morneau made some late-inning magic. Perkins took the mound for a save opportunity with his fly down, which oughta be a story he tells in radio interviews into his gray-haired years. Still, the team is thirteen games under .500, so this tale is destined to end in tragedy. Doppelganger (Twins 3 Indians 2 – Game 93) Twins win again, almost exactly like they did the night before. Except Perkins kept his fly zipped. I kinda hope he left that zipper down on purpose. Could’ve started out as a bullpen dare and ended up with a box of steaks delivered to Perkins house. It’s a long shot – and clearly I have no inside information – but it’s a nice little daydream for me. If the Twins can’t win, they can at least bond. Share some emotional scars and find out what the guy they’re warming up with really has under the hood. Mischief and ritual can build trust. Maybe what I’m saying is this: We need another Kent Hrbek, and maybe a dash of Gary Gaetti. They may not be the straws that stir the drink, but they are the hands that shake up the can of beer. Maybe this could be the team that rises up out of that foam, like a phoenix from the ashes. Game of Moans (Twins 1 Indians 7 – Game 94) Around first pitch, my wife and talked about the lack of time we’d been spending with the Twins. We were taking our dog for a walk by the mighty Mississippi, and we didn’t talk much about Twins baseball. It was too beautiful a day to ruin. After getting lunch and returning home, I checked the score to find the Twins were down 6-0. I shut off the phone, shut down my give-a-damn, and continued enjoying time with my wife. I miss baseball, but I can’t submit to this reign of bad pitches and low energy. No one needs another blog post lamenting the slow death of this team. Writing dozens of posts about what’s wrong with the Twins will kill joy inside my heart. My game needs to change. There’s really no need to watch baseball games to see the Twins’ season progress. It’s time to watch the Twins’ season progress to appreciate baseball. The game remains the game. Four bases, 90 feet apart, and three strikes to get a chance to dance. Even without a World Series in a team’s sights, a two-out home run still brings glory. Every home run crosses a very real border into immortality. Real life is rarely so satisfying. It’s dismal, everyone, but there’s still baseball out there.

No More All-Star Moments (Twins 3 Indians 2 – Game 92) This is the story of the 2013 Twins, and there’s really not a whole lot left to cover in these remaining games. True believers will hold out for a miracle, a string of victories, and playoff glory. I love all things TC, but I can’t believe in this campfire tale. If it happens, I’ll jump on the bandwagon and stand in the parade like I always belonged there. The Twins came out of the All-Star Break plucky, like nobody told them the odds. Mauer and Morneau made some late-inning magic. Perkins took the mound for a save opportunity with his fly down, which oughta be a story he tells in radio interviews into his gray-haired years. Still, the team is thirteen games under .500, so this tale is destined to end in tragedy. Doppelganger (Twins 3 Indians 2 – Game 93) Twins win again, almost exactly like they did the night before. Except Perkins kept his fly zipped. I kinda hope he left that zipper down on purpose. Could’ve started out as a bullpen dare and ended up with a box of steaks delivered to Perkins house. It’s a long shot – and clearly I have no inside information – but it’s a nice little daydream for me. If the Twins can’t win, they can at least bond. Share some emotional scars and find out what the guy they’re warming up with really has under the hood. Mischief and ritual can build trust. Maybe what I’m saying is this: We need another Kent Hrbek, and maybe a dash of Gary Gaetti. They may not be the straws that stir the drink, but they are the hands that shake up the can of beer. Maybe this could be the team that rises up out of that foam, like a phoenix from the ashes. Game of Moans (Twins 1 Indians 7 – Game 94) Around first pitch, my wife and talked about the lack of time we’d been spending with the Twins. We were taking our dog for a walk by the mighty Mississippi, and we didn’t talk much about Twins baseball. It was too beautiful a day to ruin. After getting lunch and returning home, I checked the score to find the Twins were down 6-0. I shut off the phone, shut down my give-a-damn, and continued enjoying time with my wife. I miss baseball, but I can’t submit to this reign of bad pitches and low energy. No one needs another blog post lamenting the slow death of this team. Writing dozens of posts about what’s wrong with the Twins will kill joy inside my heart. My game needs to change. There’s really no need to watch baseball games to see the Twins’ season progress. It’s time to watch the Twins’ season progress to appreciate baseball. The game remains the game. Four bases, 90 feet apart, and three strikes to get a chance to dance. Even without a World Series in a team’s sights, a two-out home run still brings glory. Every home run crosses a very real border into immortality. Real life is rarely so satisfying. It’s dismal, everyone, but there’s still baseball out there.

You can view the page at http://twinsdaily.com/content.php?r=2076-Summer-of-Massacres-Tornadoes-of-Sharks-(Twins-at-Yankees-Games-89-91)

The Twins Were Sharknados First (Twins 0 Yankees 2 - Game 89) A SyFy televion movie called Sharknado took over the world of Twitter, and I’ll bet most Twins fans didn’t put up too much of a struggle. Sharknado is a movie whose title tells you exactly what you’re going to see on your TV. The Internet Movie Database estimates it cost about a million to make. I’ll bet no one over the age of eight expected any quality from it, and yet it stole the world’s heart for a moment in time. The Twins are supposed to be Sharknados. They’re supposed to clap together the right pieces at the right time for the right price to steal the country’s attention. Exploiting opportunities and taking chances are two patron saints for both trashy movies and small-ball baseball teams. People watch Sharknado-type movies hoping they’ll be so bad they’re good. Right now, the Twins are just plain bad. Unlike drive-in classics, straight-to-video masterpieces, and basic cable must-watch TV, the Twins don’t seem to have any tricks up their sleeves. Around Twins territory, channels are changing. Three Deep in the Waste Lands (Twins 4 Yankees 1 - Game 90) I monitored this game from the time-warped world of social media and smart phones. Information isn’t updated simultaneously in this world, so sometimes my phone said the Twins were down when Twitter had something different to say. Who knows how the radio and TV feeds fit into this temporal rift. This game involved three home runs, including one from one Mr. Ryan Doumit, and a Twins victory in the Big Apple. And yet, I feel little joy. It’s like someone put together all the ingredients for a nice cheesecake and I found myself in the mood for dry crackers. Or sour grapes. It feels pretty good to write that, even if I know it’s partially a lie. The Yankees got spank-eed by the Twins in NYC. I want to stay bitter enough to be cool and detached, but I can’t help but smile a little bit. A Pleasant Sunday Thumpin’ (Twins 10 Yankees 4 – Game 91) On a pleasant Sunday, right before the All-Star break, the Minnesota Twins put a double-digit thumping on the New York Yankees. Sounds like pitching missteps and horror-show fielding played a part in the Yankees demise, but all I need to know is that the Twins won a series in New York City. For the Twins, the midseason cliffhanger isn’t “Will they or won’t they?” It’s closer to being like the tagline for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre – “Who will survive and what will be left of them?” Players will be cut from the team. Players will be shipped to other teams. Players will get injured. What it all means is this: there is less of the 2013 season to play than has already been played. Baseball is going away again. Like any good scary movie, it’ll end with the promise of a new chapter. I just hope there’s enough left of the team to cast next year’s heroes. As I finish typing this, I hear that Parmelee, Arcia, and Escobar are going to Rochester. More ballplayers down in the dust and the heat of summer.

The Twins Were Sharknados First (Twins 0 Yankees 2 - Game 89) A SyFy televion movie called Sharknado took over the world of Twitter, and I’ll bet most Twins fans didn’t put up too much of a struggle. Sharknado is a movie whose title tells you exactly what you’re going to see on your TV. The Internet Movie Database estimates it cost about a million to make. I’ll bet no one over the age of eight expected any quality from it, and yet it stole the world’s heart for a moment in time. The Twins are supposed to be Sharknados. They’re supposed to clap together the right pieces at the right time for the right price to steal the country’s attention. Exploiting opportunities and taking chances are two patron saints for both trashy movies and small-ball baseball teams. People watch Sharknado-type movies hoping they’ll be so bad they’re good. Right now, the Twins are just plain bad. Unlike drive-in classics, straight-to-video masterpieces, and basic cable must-watch TV, the Twins don’t seem to have any tricks up their sleeves. Around Twins territory, channels are changing. Three Deep in the Waste Lands (Twins 4 Yankees 1 - Game 90) I monitored this game from the time-warped world of social media and smart phones. Information isn’t updated simultaneously in this world, so sometimes my phone said the Twins were down when Twitter had something different to say. Who knows how the radio and TV feeds fit into this temporal rift. This game involved three home runs, including one from one Mr. Ryan Doumit, and a Twins victory in the Big Apple. And yet, I feel little joy. It’s like someone put together all the ingredients for a nice cheesecake and I found myself in the mood for dry crackers. Or sour grapes. It feels pretty good to write that, even if I know it’s partially a lie. The Yankees got spank-eed by the Twins in NYC. I want to stay bitter enough to be cool and detached, but I can’t help but smile a little bit. A Pleasant Sunday Thumpin’ (Twins 10 Yankees 4 – Game 91) On a pleasant Sunday, right before the All-Star break, the Minnesota Twins put a double-digit thumping on the New York Yankees. Sounds like pitching missteps and horror-show fielding played a part in the Yankees demise, but all I need to know is that the Twins won a series in New York City. For the Twins, the midseason cliffhanger isn’t “Will they or won’t they?” It’s closer to being like the tagline for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre – “Who will survive and what will be left of them?” Players will be cut from the team. Players will be shipped to other teams. Players will get injured. What it all means is this: there is less of the 2013 season to play than has already been played. Baseball is going away again. Like any good scary movie, it’ll end with the promise of a new chapter. I just hope there’s enough left of the team to cast next year’s heroes. As I finish typing this, I hear that Parmelee, Arcia, and Escobar are going to Rochester. More ballplayers down in the dust and the heat of summer.

You can view the page at http://twinsdaily.com/content.php?r=2063-Loss-Leaders-(Twins-at-Rays-Games-85-88)

Lots of Hits, No Crossovers (Twins 4 Rays 7 - Game 85) Crossed through the radio broadcast of the game like going over the same creek, again and again, driving down a country highway. Things were peaceful enough until I crossed paths with the game one more time to find the Twins down three runs. As I listened, a fourth Rays run crossed the plate. There was still hope when I got home. Aaron Hicks got his fourth hit of the game and then scored a run. I got home and hurried through a few chores, but I knew it didn’t matter. The text announcing the loss arrived on my phone before my body hit my favorite spot on the couch. It does ease the pain to see Hicks getting it right. He and Arcia show promise from the future. Still, I’d like for the Twins coaching staff to sit Hicks and Arcia down for the “Don’t be Danny Valencia after the 2010 season” talk. This whole team has a long way to go. What’s Blogger for “The Wave” (Twins 1 Rays 4 - Game 86) The Twins losses keep mounting, and I decided to let the team spend a day without me caring about them as punishment. I’m a rational man, but somehow I really do believe the team can feel apathy and spite through the airwaves. Just a normal, everyday craziness, I guess. A dip into the Twitter pool led me to believe lots of bloggers gave up along with me. If there was a way to bounce a beach ball from one tweet of suffering to the ext, I think lots of people would’ve kept things bouncing. All of these losses share the same lack of energy. It’s like the Twins identified some perfect exemplar of loss and have set themselves about replicating it in every game. I’ll be back tomorrow. Pouting is great, but it doesn’t make up for a world without baseball. Guess I do need this team more than they need me, even when they’re losing. Then Miss Jackson It Is (Twins 3 Rays 4 - Game 87) Didn’t realize I was lying in yesterday’s recap when I said I’d care about the Twins game tonight, but I was. Forgot it was even happening until the Internet told me. It scares me how much I wait for the Internet to keep me posted these days. Internet brought me good news with a two run Florimon homer that gave the Twins the lead. I felt no thrill. Past history has taught me a one run Twins lead had the same chances of survival as the last jelly donut at a boring meeting. So the boys in the out of town jerseys made it a two-run lead, and I thought that was something. But the Twins continued to do the same thing they’ve done for me lately and found a way to lose the game. This time, they managed to stretch the game’s death throes into extra innings. When they finally lost the game as my head hit the pillow, I don’t know if it was more or less sad. Passengers (Twins 3 Rays 4 - Game 88) There was under an inning to celebrate the Twins avoiding a no-hitter before the home runs came screaming through the air. Two of them, back to back, like an execution to end the series. What happens to all of Gardy’s commercials after the Twins let him go? I don’t know if Gardy’s going to get fired or not, but all of the fingers tapping on keypads has turned into the loud clanging of a bell tolling for the end of his tenure as Twins coach. Hard to have any feelings about that potential loss when every Twins’ loss numbs me like Novocain. Now it’s off to New York, What beatings await the team there?

Lots of Hits, No Crossovers (Twins 4 Rays 7 - Game 85) Crossed through the radio broadcast of the game like going over the same creek, again and again, driving down a country highway. Things were peaceful enough until I crossed paths with the game one more time to find the Twins down three runs. As I listened, a fourth Rays run crossed the plate. There was still hope when I got home. Aaron Hicks got his fourth hit of the game and then scored a run. I got home and hurried through a few chores, but I knew it didn’t matter. The text announcing the loss arrived on my phone before my body hit my favorite spot on the couch. It does ease the pain to see Hicks getting it right. He and Arcia show promise from the future. Still, I’d like for the Twins coaching staff to sit Hicks and Arcia down for the “Don’t be Danny Valencia after the 2010 season” talk. This whole team has a long way to go. What’s Blogger for “The Wave” (Twins 1 Rays 4 - Game 86) The Twins losses keep mounting, and I decided to let the team spend a day without me caring about them as punishment. I’m a rational man, but somehow I really do believe the team can feel apathy and spite through the airwaves. Just a normal, everyday craziness, I guess. A dip into the Twitter pool led me to believe lots of bloggers gave up along with me. If there was a way to bounce a beach ball from one tweet of suffering to the ext, I think lots of people would’ve kept things bouncing. All of these losses share the same lack of energy. It’s like the Twins identified some perfect exemplar of loss and have set themselves about replicating it in every game. I’ll be back tomorrow. Pouting is great, but it doesn’t make up for a world without baseball. Guess I do need this team more than they need me, even when they’re losing. Then Miss Jackson It Is (Twins 3 Rays 4 - Game 87) Didn’t realize I was lying in yesterday’s recap when I said I’d care about the Twins game tonight, but I was. Forgot it was even happening until the Internet told me. It scares me how much I wait for the Internet to keep me posted these days. Internet brought me good news with a two run Florimon homer that gave the Twins the lead. I felt no thrill. Past history has taught me a one run Twins lead had the same chances of survival as the last jelly donut at a boring meeting. So the boys in the out of town jerseys made it a two-run lead, and I thought that was something. But the Twins continued to do the same thing they’ve done for me lately and found a way to lose the game. This time, they managed to stretch the game’s death throes into extra innings. When they finally lost the game as my head hit the pillow, I don’t know if it was more or less sad. Passengers (Twins 3 Rays 4 - Game 88) There was under an inning to celebrate the Twins avoiding a no-hitter before the home runs came screaming through the air. Two of them, back to back, like an execution to end the series. What happens to all of Gardy’s commercials after the Twins let him go? I don’t know if Gardy’s going to get fired or not, but all of the fingers tapping on keypads has turned into the loud clanging of a bell tolling for the end of his tenure as Twins coach. Hard to have any feelings about that potential loss when every Twins’ loss numbs me like Novocain. Now it’s off to New York, What beatings await the team there?

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