Trying To Climb Back Up On That Horse That Threw Me

Just you watch: the Twins will now proceed to go on some kind of unholy tear, winning twenty-three of their next thirty games, and they’ll still come up short and miss the playoffs.

That would be just my luck. Yes, my luck, because it’s clear the mess of this season to date has been purely a personal thing between the Twins and me. They’ve had my number all year, and it’s played out exactly like one of those backyard fights I used to have with my brother all the time; I’d finally get him pinned to the ground, he’d plead peace, and the instant I released the little bastard he’d take another swing at my teeth and we’d end up right back where we started.

I’ll give the Twins this much credit the last week: they’ve at least been watchable again. For awhile there I was reminded of the time in the late nineties when, at the tail end of yet another wretched game in yet another wretched, knee-walking season at the Dome, a visiting scout in the press box turned to me, shook his head, and said, “You’ve got my sympathy, brother. This team ain’t worth free.”

But, still, it’s been the pitching, stupid. The team hasn’t really won one game with the bats. They’ve just been out-pitching the other guys, and I guess the good news –with Liriano and Baker on the way– is that I don’t think it’s going to take much tweaking and twiddling to make this a very good baseball team once again.

I’ll tell you what’s pissed me off more than anything else this year. The lack of offense has been maddening, no doubt about it, but it’s been the mental breakdowns we’ve seen all season that have really fried my patience. Failure to execute in fundamental situations –advancing runners, laying down bunts, swinging at good pitches in hitter’s counts, the inability, with less than two outs, to hit a simple fly ball with a runner at third, or a ground ball to the right side with a runner at second. I mean, really, all we’re asking of guys in these situations is that they make a lousy freaking out, and they’ve all pretty much demonstrated they can at least do that; they just can’t do it when it actually might count for something.

There have, of course, been all sorts of other breakdowns and brain farts, the kind of stuff you shouldn’t expect to see in Legion ball, let alone in the big leagues: How many times, for instance, have we seen guys at second base get thrown out trying to advance to third on a ground ball hit right in front of them?

Lots of times. Too many times. More times than I care to remember.

And have you noticed how often various Twins have completely lost track of how many outs there are in an inning? There was the infamous Shannon Stewart screw-up, of course, but there have been scads of other instances that, while they may not have been as costly, have nonetheless demonstrated that this team hasn’t really had a proper focus all year.

This has been a season of missed signals and missed opportunities. A season of shameful squandering and dashed expectations. It’s not over yet, though, and there’s no denying it was hugely satisfying to see the Twins beat the White Sox at their own game –the blueprints for which they basically stole from the Twins.

For one night, at least, our disappointing club looked like the Twins of the 2003 stretch, and it was fun to watch.