Please protect our baby boy
Luis Arraez, you sweet child. You alluring flora.
Stuck in the desolate wasteland of a five-game losing streak, pushing the entirety of shitty-Twins-Twitter to the brink, you are our reminder to never read the comments.
When the April wind howls through Target Field, and the Summit EPA freezes to our collective mustaches, you are the orange sun beating down to warm our paws. When Jorge Polanco bats the Mendoza line and Miguel Sano says “hold my beer,” you bat 1.000 to keep Minnesota together for the kids.
You yearning hope. You mysterious fox.
photo by Brace Hemmelgarn @bracehemmelgarn