I'm Homeless
Here we are.
The Minnesota Twins are bad, and garsh, I sure am eating a hot pie made of crows. I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve had that recipe in my pantry for some time. It doesn’t taste good, but it’s affirming.
The Twins, as of this writing, are 14 games behind the first-place Cleveland Indians in the white-hot filth dump that is the AL Central, where 80 percent of teams have lost more games than they’ve won, including the Minnesota Goddamn Fucking Kill Me Twins. What's worse, the Twins christened their 2018 season with the slogan "This Is How We Baseball."
Historically speaking, this is absolutely how we baseball.
Yes, I am ashamed of seeing even a glimmer of hope in what has always been a bad team. Bad. They’re bad. The Twins are bad. I’ve never typed faster. They are not good.
Here’s a list of all the Twins players that were supposed to be impressive this year but weren’t and aren’t.
Lance Lynn
Logan Morrison
Byron Buxton
Miguel Sano
Brian Dozier, until we dealt that fabulous head of hair to a contending team.
Probably more, who knows. I stopped watching, like, thirty games ago.
I can't entirely fault Buxton or Sano, both plagued by injuries and stuck rehabbing in the minors. Sano, despite batting .207/.285/.418 and striking out in 43 percent of his at bats, actually seems to have improved his eye and presence in the batter’s box -- a phrase riddled with subjectivity that my stupid heart formed to make me feel better but makes zero statistical sense and is not factually verifiable.
“He has made a concerted effort to recognize spin better,” [Twins’ manager Paul] Molitor said, according to this Star Tribune article.
Molitor continues, feeding us savory emotional word morsels intended to warm our spirits while distracting our brains from what objectively makes no sense.
“The fact he can engage his lower half a little better and do what he needs to do to cover [the plate], that’s giving him a better chance,” Molitor said.
Mmm, delicious. My heart feels good.
I’m so fucking upset that I don’t even feel like talking about Lance Lynn, or the fact that the ever-brilliant Twins’ TV commentary crew continually brought up how Lynn was late to spring training, and that made him bad but, hey, it’s not his fault. It was his alarm clock, or calendar, or he had a thing that day. We’ve all had things that day. We can all learn something from Lance Lynn and that thing he had that one day.
So I’ll recap my frustrations by saying this: I’m homeless. Can I use your couch and also your toothbrush? I’ll buy my own later, I promise. There’s a CVS down the street. Yes, I’ll go tomorrow.
Cover photo: John Autey, Pioneer Press
