Something blue

Today was pretty stinky, and I thought watching some of the playoffs would help, but it actually made things worse, knowing that the Twins were done. So I turned off the television and just wallowed in my misery. I probably should've just watched The Office.

Too early for mean comments

I admit it. I sobbed like a big baby last night when the Twins lost. They showed the faces in the dugout: Duensing, who probably felt like a complete failure; Span, who was just sitting there looking incredulous; Mauer, who probably is furious with himself for not producing runs and for that almost-never-seen throwing error; Valencia, who got the last out of the game despite being such a great hitter and fielder in his rookie season. Looking at their disappointed faces was more than I could take.

I could be angry. I could blame them for coming up so far short this postseason. I could switch my allegiance and follow another team or another sport, or just quit altogether because this experience has been so painful. But what does that do for me?

The truth is, following these boys around this summer was the single greatest experience of my life. And it was surreal to get to the point where many of them recognized me and called me by name. I am not delusional; I know they're not my friends. But they pulled me through some difficult times, and I owe more to them than I could ever pay back.

And let's remember a few things that made this season fantastic:

1. Joe Mauer. We have the single greatest player in baseball on our team. He had a slow start, which for him meant hitting just .300 before the All-Star break, but then he hit almost .400 after the break. He ended up with the third highest average in the league. He's a Gold Glove catcher who is only getting better as he gets more mature. And we will have him on the Twins for a long time.

2. Justin Morneau, one of the best players in the game and batting higher than .360 at the All-Star break, was fantastic. And then when he got hurt, it only added to the pain of missing out on the best closer in the game, Joe Nathan, for the entire season. We missed them terribly, but we still clinched the division. That speaks of great depth in the batting order and in the bullpen.

3. Danny Valencia, in my opinion, was Rookie of the Year. The guy ended up hitting about .323 since coming up. When Morneau went down, we could confidently move Cuddy to first and let Danny take over third. Duensing also proved to be a great rookie pitcher, despite his postseason record.

4. Target Field. Finally, an outdoor stadium, and one that sold-out nearly every game. It was time.

5 Jim Thome. He's an old man, and he still kicks butt like a youngster. He made some home run milestones this season, and he became a dependable DH.

6. Michael Cuddyer, who consistently hit in clutch situations.

7. Liriano and Pavano, who previously looked like their careers were over, came out of nowhere and domnated the mound.

I could go on and on and on. This was a team where, despite having a few superstars, every member pulled their own weight on the mound, at the plate, and on the field. They were a joy to watch. Thank you, Twins, for all you have given to us. I can't wait until next year.

Hope is alive

I am just a baseball fan. In fact, it took me a long time to care about the Minnesota Twins at all. I went to the Metrodome to watch the White Sox when they were in town, proudly sporting my Robin Ventura jersey. Being a fan of both the Cubs and White Sox, I had more than my fair share of disappointments. But I hated the Twins' ugly fake field, their fairweather fans, their no-name players and lackluster performance through the late 90s.

But I lived in Minnesota for ten years and Twins tickets were dirt cheap. I remember buying tickets to sit in the cheap seats and sitting front row on the third base line within spitting distance of Ventura. And then I started going to the games just to watch the Twins, but only because I loved baseball--not because I cared about the Twins. I guess it was Opening Day 2004 when I realized I was a Twins fan, albeit begrudgingly so. It was the first of several Opening Day tickets Katie got for me, and it was the first time I had seen the fans more than their usual blase selves. I don't know if it was the prospect of the young upstart catcher Joe Mauer or what, but I bought a Mauer t-shirt that night out of pure hope. And I suppose I never looked back.

Even though my love of baseball has never wavered, my feelings for professional baseball have waxed and waned during the last two decades. But since 2004, I have remained true to the major leagues, through trades and strike rumors and injuries. And slowly the small-ball Twins shoved the Cubs out of the way to take first place in my heart. I felt like I can mark my adult life by the Twins, and I won't get into all the details and all the times that the Twins seemed to come to my emotional rescue during the dark times in life. I could recount taking the high school softball team that I coached to the Dome in 2005, buying super cheap tickets that were right behind home plate, and teaching the girls the tricks to getting autographs. I think that was the day some of those girls became fans, not just of Joe Mauer and Matt Guerrier, but of the game of baseball. I felt like I had taught those girls something that would stay with them longer than Shakespeare and Milton, and they were inspired. Most of those girls are still fans five years later.

And when I moved back to the Chicago area, it was with a heavy heart that I shoved in as many Twins games at the Dome as I could. I bought tickets to watch the Twins play in Chicago, and it was with a kind of desparation that I let go of these Twins the same way I had let go of Minnesota. In the face of the White Sox fans that hated Minnesota here in Elgin, I think I became a more dedicated Twins fan than ever. This season I traveled to five different stadiums to watch them play, and with every encounter I became more obsessed with the 2010 Twins, and even in their weaker moments this year, I never once considered that they wouldn't win it all this year, in the same way that I never doubted that our high school baseball team would win the State Championship title (which they did). And once again, in the dark moments of this year, the Twins were there to lift my spirits and give me hope.

So here I sit, less than an hour before game time, well aware that I love the Twins far more than is healthy. They are down 2 games against the hated, evil Yankees, and I know the odds are against them. My heart aches when Joe Mauer strikes out and grounds out--Mauer, who has hit almost .400 since the All-Star break and who has signed a multi-million dollar contract, and who has seemed to many to be the salvation of this team. My friend keeps saying that he is the most overrated player in baseball, and it hurts to hear that. I hate hearing people speak poorly of Mauer, but I also am waiting on pins and needles for him to come through. And maybe that will be tonight--maybe that will be the beginning of the greatest playoff comeback in MLB history. Maybe tonight will begin the fruition of all my hopes, because I am simply not ready for this to be over. It's been such a great ride.

Hope is painful

I'm watching the playoffs and the Twins are losing. They lost last night, despite looking remarkable at the beginning. Now they are down by two. It's hard to hope, especially when Joe Mauer isn't hitting the way I hoped he would. But I still hope. Maybe I shouldn't. But baseball pulls that out of me. I have been collecting hope the way some people collect rare coins. I'm cashing in.

I used to go through this with the Cubs, but rarely in the playoffs because they just didn't ever make it very far. But here I sit watching Carl Pavano and hoping that these guys can pull it off against the hated Yanks.

So Viva la Stash, and please, please, please, let us get one.