Talk About A Heart Breaker

Watching the game yesterday, I actually thought the Twins had a chance of winning. They were up two runs, they had Nathan on the hill, and they looked like they knew what they were doing. What I forgot is that the Yankees had paid out their ass for a veritable all star team, and that every single player with the exception of Melky Cabrera could hurt you big time.

As if without provocation, ARod showed why he is one of the best players* in the game. My heart sank. From that point forward, I knew the Twins had no chance. It was like watching a little ant squirm under the magnifying glass. Hell, the same exact goddamn thing happened a few years ago. Twins were up by a few in the ninth, Yankees come back to tie, win in extras. Even this year they walked off three fucking times against us. You know why? Because they are just too good for a small market team, or anyone for that matter.
It sure didnt help that the umps blew a few different calls that would have put the Twins ahead, or that Delmon Young and Carlos Gomez are the worst fucking hitters in terms of discipline. They had their chances, and the Twins couldnt follow through.
Of course, I said the last win of the year would sustain me, and so far it has. But after games like that, I have little faith that I wont end up yelling at Ron “OOOO! Piece of candy!” Darling or Chip “Kill me please” Caray with reckless abandon. Maybe if their coverage of Derek Jeter didnt approach or eclipse ESPN’s coverage of Brett Favre, I wouldnt have as much of a problem. When Posada gets a hit, I dont fucking care what Jeter is doing in the dugout. Maybe Jon Gruden is directing.
Tomorrow the Twins go back to the dome to seal their fate. Either they will win and stay their execution, or the Yankees will crush the hearts of all the children in attendance under the weight of Johnny Damon’s shorn fur. I think that’s what they want, to hurt the children. Yes, the Yankees hate children. Well, except for Jeter who probably gave a wheelchair bound kid the ability to walk out of the stadium by infusing him with his clutch-osity and October winning power just by saying hello and shooting him with his gun finger.
Go Twins.

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