2007 Predictions, by David Jensen

Since any shaved ape can make predictions, here are mine.

Division winners
AL
East- New York Yankees
Central- Detroit
West- Oakland
Wild Card- Minnesota
Worst Record- Kansas City
Champion- Minnesota

NL
East- Philadelphia
Central- St. Louis
West- San Diego
Wild Card- Milwaukee
Worst Record- Chicago Cubs
Champion- Philadelphia

World Series- Minnesota in 6 (Duh)

In Ryan We Trust by David Jensen

With the dawning of a new baseball season, hope stretches out before us like a boundless highway. Even fans in Pittsburgh and Kansas City are lining up for post-season priority. Now that the regular season is upon us, it draws to a close one of the best parts of the game, the hot stove; where GMs wheel, deal, and out-maneuver their colleagues, then must wait months or several seasons to see how they did. Some moves are heralded as boons for the franchise. The Red Sox signing Daisuke Matsuzaka, or the Twins signing Luis Castillo bring optimism and joy. Others bring a mix of relief and apprehension. (See everything the Cubs did the last two winters.) Then there are those that make grown men cry. (Gil Meche is getting how much?)
How did the Twins do this year? We said goodbye to Ruben Sierra, Shannon Stewart, Phil Nevin, and J.D. "The Real Deal" Durbin. As usual, they did very little in the free agent market. The biggest signing would be that of Brewers cast-off Jeff Cirillo to a 1 year, $1.5 million contract with an incentives package. Sydney Ponson signed a minor league deal. Also signed to a minor league contract was former Twin Matthew LeCroy. LeCroy was with the Washington Senators* last year only to make Frank Robinson cry for the only time in his life.
Led by the genius Terry Ryan, the Twins made most of their signings within the organization. Nick Punto, Juan Rincon, and Lew Ford were signed to short term deals. Reigning AL MVP Justin Morneau was rewarded with $4.5 million for 2007. The biggest winner was Joe Mauer, who will get $33 million over the next four years, keeping him behind the plate until the new stadium opens.** And predictably, an arbitrator sided with Kyle Lohse. Will all this be enough to win the toughest division in baseball? Only if Johan decides money won't buy him happiness.

*In this blog, The Washington Nationals will be known as the Senators because the Senators who moved to Minnesota in 1961 were actually called the Nationals, but everyone called them the Senators.

**They ain't gettin no stadium!

We Ain't Gettin' No Stadium, by Tyler Savage

So…it appears like we might not get a new stadium after all. I can’t say that I didn’t see it coming, but I have to confess that I did not think that the dream would end over some lame land dispute. From day one I have been proclaiming that we would not get a stadium to anybody who would listen. However, I expected to loose our stadium in the end by a vintage Carl Pohlad bamboozlement. I just can’t accept this land dispute ending to the stadium, so I have come up with a better one…

Flashback to late May of last year. The evening was to be a historical one for the Minnesota Twins, that evening Tim Pawlenty was about to sign the new stadium bill that would get the Twins a new stadium. Their was a celebration feeling in the air that night, the fans crowding into the dome had an excited buzz, but little did they know that they would be witnesses to a massacre in a little under an hour.

The ceremony was quick and festive as Dave St. Peter talked about the victory that he and the Twins had won at the Capital. Unfortunately for him, the smile on Pawlenty’s face was sinister. It all had gone as planned until Pawlenty was about to sign the bill; as he was about to sign his name, he stopped and tore up the bill. While the shock was still on St. Peter’s face, Pawlenty picked up his folding chair and began phase two of the betrayal. Pawlenty’s swing was the only homerun hit that night, as the chair connected directly on St. Peter’s cranium.

St. Peter hit the ground fast, but nobody noticed, because the engines started up in-sync with the crack of the chair on St. Peter’s head. Before St. Peter even hit the floor, the storm troopers flourished onto the playing field. The engine noise came from the vehicles they were riding—half of the troops where riding carpet zambonis, while the other half flew in on snowmobiles. How many were there? God only knows, it was a sea of white that engulfed the field like a hamster attacking a pellet.

Lew Ford was the first one to be killed--there was no significance to his death; he was merely one of the many sacrifices that day. His throat was slight from ear to ear with the precision of a professional. The majority of the others where herded onto the pictures mound while the troopers trapped them like Indians circling the wagons. There where some players and personnel that fought, but in the end they all fell. I’d like to say that TC the Bear put up a good fight, god I would like to, but he actually cried and begged for his life like a bitch. His head was hung from the light rail for half a month after.

Shortly after the troopers had terminated most of the enemies, an explosion rang out by the third base dugout, and when the smoke cleared, Bud Selig and Carl Pohlad emerged (although we are not completely certain, because some witnesses still claim to this day that they saw Darth Vadder and Grand Mof Tarkin emerge). One of the troopers dragged Twin’s manager Ron Gardenhire over to Selig (or Vadder, whomever you believe). Selig grabbed Gardenhire by the neck and began screaming at him; Selig was demanding that Gardy hand over the plans for the new stadium, but Gardy insisted that he was on a diplomatic mission. Pohlad (Tarkin) and his goons soon dragged Gardy away…possibly to the spice mines of Kessel.

There where some survivors that day. The two most notable were Johan Santana and Joe Mauer. They would have suffered the same fate as their teammates without outside help. Nobody knows how or when George Steinbrenner entered the battlefield that day, and I still loose sleep wondering how he got that chopper into (and out of) a fully inflated indoor dome. But the facts are facts, and Steinbrenner, and the chopper, where right in center field. Steinbrenner swooped in just as Santana was about to take an axe to the heart. Mauer saw the two and ran to them, and Steinbrenner covered the two, with a high-powered assault rifle, while they ran to the chopper. The three of them got the fuck out of dodge and took the quickest path to the Bronx.

The crescendo came as the fans began to panic. The fans loved their Twins, but they wanted nothing to do with the troopers, so they ran towards the nearest exit. Security tried hard to stop the inevitable tragedy, but the fans were to panic stricken. Security blocked the nonrevolving doors as best as they could, but the fans had plenty of reasons to trample them. The reasons to trample the Dome Security included how they always made you leave the Dome after the game was over, they were heavily suspected as the culprits for roping off the first two rows in the “Home Run Porch”, and they never let anyone who was not a kid run the bases on Sundays. The fans had waited for this opportunity, and they took advantage of it. The guards where stomped and the fans bolted out of all of the doors in the Dome—big mistake. The Dome imploded with the force of two A-Bombs. No fans survived that day, but they died for a good cause.

In the end, Selig and Pohlad had Big Brother erase the existence of the Twins from all history books.

In summery…many died that day, and once again good lost to evil. Well, at least that was how I thought the new stadium would be defeated—not by this lame fat cat dispute over the cost of land.

No Mo Mojo? Maybe not, maybe so.

I just want to start out by saying boo. Its a sports fan's god given right to use that word to express negative feeling about a team, player, umpire or coach and I encourage all of you to use it anytime you feel the urge. The next time your boss asks you to work on a Saturday, simply let out a resounding BOO! for all to hear. More specifically, the next time one of Carlos Silva's sinkers end up around Derek Jeter's shoulders let him know that he can do better by calling out with a friendly BOO!
Carlos has lost his mojo. His ERA is inflated, he can't get a date and he spends more time trying to dig his way out of bad innings than Sidney Ponson does digging his way out of triple-stack pancakes at IHOP. Silva may prove me wrong, but I say we get while the gettin's good; trade Silva now for a box of dryer sheets and a couple of Las Vegas Hookers before everyone begins to realize what he's really worth. A lot of Boo's. It's Matt Garza time baby!

What the Hell Is this?? By Tyler Savage

Well hello, My name is Tyler Savage and I just wanted to take this opportunity to explain what the hell was going on here. This is a blog for three quickly aging men who desire to be beat writers for the Minnesota Twins.
What is a beat writer? To be honest, I don't know the exact details, but I know that they cover the Twins and write all the stories about them. Sadly, the newspapers in the Twin Cities already have their beat writers for this year. Instead of crawling into the nearest hole, I didn't stop believing and I vowed to start a beat writing Twin's blog that would rival the competition.
Unfortunately, being a teacher I could not fund this huge project alone, so I have asked my two good friends to come along this journey with me. Dave Jensen who lives in Montana will be covering the Montana Twin's fan (?) perspectives. Scott Duecett (pretty sure I spelled your name wrong Scotty) will be covering the Minnesota resident's perspectives, and yours truly will be covering the South Dakota Twin's fan perspectives. Each of us will sign our names in the title of the blog so that you will know which one of us wrote our article.
With one week left till the season begins, it looks to be a fun year! Let the blogging begin!