Blind Man In The Bleachers: A Different Sort Of Lost Weekend

First of all, let me say this: the new radio home of the Twins sucks.

I spent much of the weekend driving. I left Friday night with the game underway, and before I was even properly out of the Twin Cities I had lost KSTP’s signal, and spent the next two hours –headed south along the Mississippi the entire time– going up and down the dial in search of a local affiliate in vain.

It’s ridiculous. I remember plenty of times in the past when I could pick up the Twins for, at minimum, a hundred miles in any direction. Hell, I can recall listening to the Twins in the Badlands, and also in the Wisconsin Dells.

I apparently didn’t miss much on Friday or Saturday, other than continued offensive ineptitude, the implosion of the bullpen in the series opener (and another frustratingly inefficient performance from Johan Santana), and Sidney Ponson’s by-the-book swan song in Saturday’s matinee.

Mercy, mercy on that bit of news. Thank God we’ve finally seen the last of Big Sid.

I got back in time to catch the Sunday night game, and maybe it’s just a coincidence, but the Twins played like a team that had just had surgery to remove a large cancerous tumor from the top of its spine. And I’m not going to complain, but it would have been nice if the club could have found a way to distribute some of those thirty-one base runners throughout the three-game series.

It was a laugher, sure, but it was a laugher this team desperately needed, and was pretty entertaining as well. How often do you suppose a ball club manages to strand thirteen runners and score sixteen runs in the same game? All eleven guys Minnesota sent to the plate had hits, and the Twins chewed up Detroit’s bullpen just as the Tigers prepare to head to Boston for a series.