Dave The Dastardly

My failed attempt at sarcasm.

I agree about Baldelli being a disappointment this season, but I never bought into this "show some emotion" thing. A manager's job is to think. Thinking is best done while emotions are under control. And we can't be sure if Baldelli hasn't indeed "done something". But if he has, whatever he's tried hasn't worked. So try something else. Who knows, maybe just parking a few butts on the bench for a week or so would get the message across. Personally, I'd start with Sano.

Mound Visit: Coach "This is Sano. Pitch him right down the middle. Don't be cute.

Yeah, but his exit velocity is good.

Going with past writings from the TD guys' that cover the minor leagues Rortvedt is the only "true" catcher in the Twins system; that is, he calls a good game, has excellent defensive skills. and he can hit his weight. Our other options at catcher are "hit first, catch second" guys.

Stringer- My wife and I are both from large families and both sides are playing catch-up after the pandemic. We're up to our eyeballs in showers, weddings, reunions, picnics and just weekend get-togethers. So in the interest of family harmony I was giving relatives dibs on June and July commitments. However all have now spoken and I can with some surety offer my services as a threader on June 3, 9 and 29. Hmm. I wonder if there's some magic in those 3's and 9's... Gonna have to check with Vegas.

Maybe it's time Donaldson takes Wee Willie's advice to heart and "hit 'em where they ain't"

Sounds like Samantha Thiede's got her feet on the ground while her boyfriend has his head up his... well, you know where. This is Minnesota for gods' sakes! Land of 10,000 Professional Team Sports Disappointments (PTSD)!

Takes two burly guys and a Finlander. The burly guys each get a vicegrips which they clamp on the cable about a foot apart. The Finlander steps in with a hacksaw and has at it. But you gotta watch it, if the burly guys lose their grip the loose end of the cable wraps itself around your billfold and sucks out the money faster than a Dyson vacuum.

Good luck with the unpacking. Moved here 21 years ago and still find the occasional box that hasn't been unpacked. Found a box full of moldy paperbacks out in my shop just this last winter; the authors now gone to that Best Seller's List in the Sky, though I know at least three of them are still writing books from the grave. Ghostwriters I guess. Ditched satellite ten years ago. Can't say as I missed it, especially the constantly climbing monthly bills. Fees are now almost as high as the satellites.

Almost perfect.

Correction: Happ-less is one of our guys.

Really? I never made the connection. Sorry, Vanimal, but I took the $50 Lesson On the Evils of Gambling on one of your games. The one and only time I ever wagered on a baseball game. A lesson well-remembered.

Is that a bed pan?

Ah! The infamous Vance Worley! I remember him well. Unfortunately. PJ? Doesn't ring a bell. Hendricks of course went on to bigger and better things.

Which one?

20 pitches to get out of the 1st inning. The Shoe's going to hit Rocco's Line In The Sand by the 4th inning.

I'm about 45 minutes south of Mpls as the crow flies and just had a couple of thundershowers roar through here. Grab your raincoat and hold on to your eyebrows.

A Byrd In Hand The Byrds. No, not the Birds, the Byrds, the folk-rock band of the ’60’s. You know, “Roger McQuinn had a 12-string guitar it was like nothing I’d ever heard.” - David Alan Coe lyrics from his song “Willie, Waylon and Me”. I was always envious of Roger McQuinn of the Byrds. He could make a Rickenbacker 12-string guitar jingle-jangle while I had trouble plucking your basic 6-string. That’s how I wound up a bass man. Only had to pluck four strings. It was said I could play the bass by ear, but to be honest, I only ever used my fingers. I had a buddy, our rhythm guitar player, who also liked to play bass and sometimes the two of us would get together to drink a little beer and try to create a two-bass riff. Usually, after a couple hours of intense “practice”, the basses were loaded. The runs often came later. We both played in a garage band, that’s like Low A ball in the music world. We were just good enough to play cheap taverns for all the surreptitious beer we could drink, but occasionally we’d get real cash in payment; sometimes to stop playing. But there was one small town tavern that booked us every couple of months because we always packed the place. I often wondered if the semi-isolated town was that hard up for entertainment or if the local population was tone deaf. If so it could've been genetic. They kept calling each other “Cousin”. One of the cousins, a dishwater blonde with chapped hands, had a thing for me. I once told her an off-color joke during one of our frequent intermissions and she wrinkled up her face in disgust and scornfully demanded “God! How low can you go?” “Well, I am a bass man,” I told her. Needless to say I struck out. “So what the hell does all this have to do with the Twins game?” you demand impatiently, suspecting the Dastard is about to throw you a curve ball. “Patience, Grasshopper,” I reply in my best impression of a learned Shaolin monk. “A master weaver threads carefully.” Or should that be “treads carefully”? You know, so you don’t tear the rice paper as you run away from irate dishwater blondes. However I will graciously concede Roger McQuinn has nothing to do with today’s game or the Baltimore Orioles for that matter. But he does have something to do with Minnesota. You see the Byrds first hit was “Mr. Tambourine Man” which was composed by none other than Bob Dylan, a native Minnesotan who actually has musical talent. Dylan, according to legend, began writing “Tambourine Man” while attending Mardi Gras and completed it during a cross-country trip from New Orleans to New York with friends. One of those friends, according to Dylan, was none other than the ubiquitous yet often inspiring Mary Jane. Anyway, if you drive cross-country from New Orleans to New York City, you have to go through or around Baltimore. And if you’re into one of those wide-eyed driving-stupors that come on after too many hours behind the wheel, with or without Mary Jane, and get caught up in Baltimore rush-hour traffic you just might see a bird or two. Not a baseball player. Or Roger McQuinn. The middle finger kind. I know this from personal experience. Which, circuitously brings us back to today’s game with the Orioles; aka in sports writer slang; The Birds. It seems John Means, today’s pitcher for the Birds, recently got the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate award for almost throwing a Perfect Game. Apparently Means did throw a Perfect Game, but since his catcher dropped a third strike pitch and the batter made it safely down to first, a runner did reach base and therefore technically Means threw a Perfect Game that can’t be scored as a Perfect Game. Talk about getting the middle finger. Just goes to show you that the end doesn’t always justify the Means. I know, I went a long way to get that one in and lend this effort a somewhat tenuous connection to baseball, but in my own defense I would like to point out that I devilishly turned the phrase “basses were loaded” and also used such iconic baseball words as “Low A”, “struck out”, "runs" and “curve ball” while threading my way to this denouement. I guess you could say I’ve been stringing you along. Whatever, it's time for the Twins to stop stringing us along and turn this season around if they want to avoid getting "birded" by their fans. Today's Duelists on the Mound Orioles - John “What Does It” Means 4-0 ERA 1.70 K- 59 Twins - Matt “The Cobbler” Shoemaker 2-5 ERA 6.08 K - 25

I haven't, but I'll jump at the opportunity.

Somebody better stop me. I'm getting hungry.

The Sano Slam - a pound and a half of sliced beef on a 24" sub. Mayo, lettuce, chopped onions and three stacker pickles. Goes a long way.

The Thorpedo - a kangaroo hot dog smothered in honey mustard, pickle relish and chopped red onions. Looks good but sure to sink your expectations. A couple of bites and you'll want to slip it Down Under.

The Barely Ober - one paper-thin slice of ham between two slender slices of French bread. Tasty, but needs more seasoning. Leaves the customer looking for more.