Who Needs to Stop and Pee?

Confession: This is the point of the baseball season when I get a little bored. It happens every year, not just seasons like this one. And last one. Mid to late August until mid-September when the playoff races start tightening just kind of drag.

It's like we're at hour 15 of a 19 hour road trip and we're exhausted and a little strung out, the Twizzlers are gone and we really just want to see the ocean.

So, consider the next few posts like an off-the-beaten-path side trek -- we'll stay sports related, but wander a bit.

Here is a video that is beautifully insane and very not boring:



Ciao, buddies.
-christine

p.s., click the video to full screen and turn on your speakers. Do it.

Rajai Davis Has Some Mad Hops, Yo.

This catch is ridiculous.  The jump + climb the wall part is insane, but that stutter step to nail the timing just pops my top off.

Wait... pops my lid. Pops my lid off?

Whatever. This catch is ridiculous.

Ciao, buddies.
-cr.

Just a Quick Question

Read this and then tell me...

is it weird that I find the imagery of Morneau and Muffinbutt cutting fresh produce together kind of totally hot?

Bro, I picked up this organic kale at the co-op before bp today.  You'll die for it.  I'm serious, you'll just die.

I thought so.

Thanks, buddies.
-cr.

The Art of Writing. Er... Blogging

Yeah, I know.  I'm sorry.

I think I'm having some kind of strange blog fatigue thing and it's all my fault. It has to do with social media + sports punditry overload, as well as a crazy-business + a general exhaustion of being a Twins fan these days... but I'm not blaming anyone but myself.

Lately, every time I've sat myself down to write something I've had this feeling that it's all been said, tweeted, posted, sound-bite(ed) to death already.

I seem to have forgotten how this blog thing works and, actually, how writing works, which is like this : that I have my own, unique perspective because I am me, not you, not Phil Mackey, not La Velle E. Neal, not TwitterFace33. And what I write because it occurs to me (thank you William Stafford) might just be something you've never heard before or that makes you think or that makes you mad or that moves you.

So, I'm considering this post as a writing exercise of sorts, a reset to remember what it is I do here.

So there.


OK, here we go!
Here are five random thoughts on the Twins right now:

• I'm really surprised that base-running genius, all around little cutie-pie, Mastroianni's first name is Darin. Really? Darin?

• I still call Justin Morneau "Porno." When he first came up we all called him 'more-NO' (remember?), which I remembered by thinking 'like bordeaux.' Then he corrected us and we were all embarrassed and my new trick became 'like porno.'  I guess it stuck.

• It turns out I have no opinion on the Liriano trade. I just don't really care (who knew?).

• It would be awesome if the Twins had a dugout cat. Maybe a grouchy looking persian named TK who just paces and looks disappointed for no reason. 

• It will be incredibly sad when Denard Span is no longer a Twin, which I'm guessing will happen in the offseason. What a great player; what a great guy. 

Thanks, buddies. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts (especially on dugout cat).
-christine

Bad Apples: How the Number 23 is Ruined for Me Forever

I don't know about you, but I cringed a little when I heard Mauer would be the lonely Twins cowboy saddling up for Kansas City next week. And not because I don't think he deserves to be there -- not for a  hot second.  No, I cringed because, before I could even finish reading the tweet, I could already hear the haters getting their hate on. 

And hate on they did. It was predictable and silly, and also nicely handled in this Twins Daily piece that I totally agree with and will let (along with all kinds of other more recent articles, finally!) provide all of the statistical analysis needed to prove the very no shit! point that hating on Mauer this season is so ridic ridiculous that I'm totes going to use the whole word.

But I still find myself with something to say. 

All of this Mauer hating this season has been just mind-boggling to me. And very sad. I'm embarrassed -- not so much about the tweets or the derivative, simplistic local columns that shaped the narrative in 2011 (sports guy writes it, blogger tweets it, 10 more retweet that and the next thing you know "everyone thinks it" and then somehow everyone thinks it. and so on.) that has somehow carried over to 2012 -- because that is just sort of how it goes these days. It's the Twins fans booing him at Target Field that I just cannot abide. 

Damn, really? That guy with the backwards hat and the popped collars is booing me? He's wearing loafers. Loafers!

First of all ... why? 

If you think Mauer is the problem this season, so much that you need to actually boo your own guy at home, you are just awful at being a baseball fan and you should probably either try to pay closer attention or maybe this just isn't the sport for you.


Second of all ... why? 

When did we start doing this, anyway? When did we turn into dick fans like this? Our own hometown boy, four time all-star, three time batting champion, AL MVP catcher has one bad season and we just turn on him? It's hard to even believe. It really is. I've always been proud to be a Twins fan; I've brought other people to the game on a promise that Twins fans are great, loyal, smart fans. (And I do know it's getting better and that, for the most part, we are still great, loyal and smart fans... it's that whole a few bad apples ruining the bushel thing happening here. I just think these apples really suck.)

Everything comes back to that damn 23 million. I've mentioned before that I am not a fan of conversations about players' salaries -- all of this shit is precisely why. I wish all of the numbers just stayed in the front office. 

It creeps me out to hear people sit around and discuss a person's worth -- like we, as spectators, can somehow determine that. Every move Mauer makes, on and off the field, is held up against this number in a game where those numbers are all so overblown and insane that focusing on any one, or twenty three, of them only leads to these small, jealous apples who you think that they can actually say, half a season into the second year of a guy's 8 year contract, if he is "worth it." Gross.

So, yeah, enough of that. I know I'll be cheering on Mauer with all my might next Tuesday. He might be our only guy, but he's our guy. So there.

Ciao, buddies.
-christine
     

The Question on Everyone's Lips Is: What is the Deal With all These No Nos? Here Is an Excellent Take on That, by Jayson Stark

FULL  STORY

Ciao, buddies.
-christine

BSG does Bryce Harper

Perfection.


 
What, no mention of Harper's own name + bible verse tattoo on his torso in terrible Ed Hardy font? Missed opportunity, BSG.             

Did you know my power comes from my ears?

Watching young Bryce Harper and Steven Strasberg go at it the way they have been for the Nationals has been a highlight of the season so far for me. The Nationals (and the previously mentioned Orioles) in general have been a blast to follow in 2012. If you aren't checking in on these hot young teams a bit, you should.

So, yes, Bryce Harper is an insanely talented kid -- all muscle and passion and hustle and ego. He's a jolt of raw energy that doesn't come along all that often in Major League Baseball that I think is kind of fun as long as it is backed. Up. And so far, so very, very good.


Ciao, buddies!
-christine

I love this.

more funny charts like this, including 'people who are still watching Twins games' ...

All three of these pie parts are funny and true, but that white space one is especially hilarious to me as I am embarrassingly guilty of this.  In fact, last week I met a lady from Baltimore and the conversation went like this:

     CR: Where are you from?

     Lady: Baltimore.

     CR: Stringer Bell.

     Lady: Yeah.

Yep, I did. I just blurted out Stringer Bell. And she just said yeah, like either that happens all the time or she thought I had tourettes. Either way,  GO, ORIOLES, GO ! 

Ciao, buddies.

-cr.

p.s., Did you see Drew Butera pitch on Sunday?  For someone who hasn't pitched since high school, that was not half bad.

The Good, The Not Quite There Yet, and The Bad, Take 2

I know. I've been a bad blogger lately-- no new posts in nearly a month. But, to be fair, it's been a really busy month. For me, I mean. For the Twins it's mostly just been more of the same. So, I'll skip the recapping and instead do a quick (sorry, still really busy over herrre) version of feature: the good, the not quite there yet, and the ugly.

THE GOOD

The Twins are making moves. Valencia is down, Liriano is in the bullpen, Clete Thomas is already gone, some other guys I've never really heard of are doing things. I think the roster shake ups are good for the Twins right now. Hey, at least we're trying something-- and a couple of the moves are looking good so far. I'm talking to you Scott Diamond and Brian Dozier.

Other good:

Matt Capps is acting like a real MLB closer.

Jamey Carroll's glorious trucker 'stache he rocked for awhile. (Bring that shit back, Jamey with a y. It makes your face look much less young Dafoe-ish.)

MY, NACHO, BALLS.

THE NOT QUITE THERE YET

The Valenti's mega stuffed meatball = one of the most popular new culinary kids on the block at Target Field. SIG Baseball mom and I split one and we liked it. But just liked it.

The meat has some nice flavors and the sauce is tangy, but the mozz it is "stuffed" with is mostly nonexistent and flavorless. I'd rather see it stuffed with ricotta or not stuffed at all. It was also a little dry and could use some fresh herbs in a bad way.
I think I'd rather have it as a hoagie with melted cheese on top.  Yes, I would definitely rather have that hoagie style.

Also, come on -- a big Italian meatball? That's pretty uninspired if you ask me. And you should ask me; I am seriously into meatballs. Buffalo chicken balls, nacho balls, goat balls stuffed with olives stuffed with ginger, sweet balls, butter balls, turkey and dressing balls in cranberry mushroom sauce, brat balls... this kind of thing is the future the now of meatballs.

Work on your balls, guys.

THE UGLY

Dear Trevor,

You cannot face King Felix, or anyone else for that matter, with a curly Tom Brady bob and expect him, or anyone else for that matter, to take you seriously as a person.

Thank you.

p.s., There also might be a few little issues with your offense. And your defense. Oh, yeah, and your hair.

 
BREAKING NEWS: Plouffe cut off his curls for Locks of Love, tweeting:

"Donating in honor of my mother, Diane," Plouffe (@TPlouffe24) tweeted. "She's a Breast cancer survivor who lost her hair during the chemo. Love her!"

So. I'm a dick. 

Now I'm not even in the mood to say other mean things about Plouffe or tell you how the awesome Larry Sutin called him "The Plouffinator" and I laughed for a week. Well played, Plouffe. 

Well, woopsie, I guess this post isn't so short after all. Who knew I had so to say about meatballs (besides anyone who has ever met me).

Ciao, buddies!

-cr.

p.s., This is so insanely, adorably baseball-nerdy I can hardly stand it. And, honestly, if I didn't believe that Rivera will indeed come back next season, it would probably make me weep.

Happy Birthday, Joe Mauer

Ciao, buddies.
-christine