What I've Been Thinking Today

I blame the particularly lousy day I had at work today on waking up and reading this article in the Trib before heading out, which left with me a mental image so horrifying that I couldn't get it out of my head and will probably be the main subject of my nightmares tonight. The part that almost made me lose my Marshmallow Mateys:

According to the report, if a child sits on an open drain, the suction, which can reach several hundred pounds per square inch, can rupture the rectum and eviscerate the child in a matter of seconds.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! PAIN DOES NOT EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE HOW THIS WOULD FEEL! I walked around work today clenched tighter than Barry Bonds when he hears the word "indictment".

And speaking of losing one's guts, I've never seen a team perform so meekly as the Twins when they get on national TV, particularly against a certain team from a city associated with a large piece of fruit (no, not that one). It doesn't seem to matter whether one team is struggling at the time; it's like they just pick up every time where they left of, which is generally with the Twins getting their asses handed to them. Today it was three of the year's biggest Yankee flops (besides Damon and Abreu, who had wreaked enough havoc in the first three games of the series) doing most of the damage in Cano, Cabrera, and Matsui, the last making an already disappointing day for poor Sideshow Pat much worse. As the South Park football PA guy would say, I haven't seen an American have a day like this against the Japanese since Pearl Harbor. Disappointing, especially after yesterday's Coney Island re-enactment of the Battle of Midway. And though I've never been one to blame a loss on the officiating, I'm pretty sure I saw Wally Bell's car keys dangling from his left hand and his golfing gloves hanging out of his back pocket as he rung up Cuddyer's "check swing" strike on ball 4 to end the game. I know the New York rush hour traffic is a beast, but give us a break; it's not like Clemens was on the mound or anything.

It's tough not to see this as a disturbing omen for what will become of Our Favorite Team this year. Even if they do go on a run to catch Cleveland and Detroit and make the playoffs, what good is it if, as in the last three postseason appearances, they go on to get embarrassed by a team that's not necessarily any better than them? Mauer and Morneau are the only players who consistently show poise on a national stage. Torii somehow seems to regress to an even less-disciplined approach to the game. Everybody else, the young guys, show their age more obviously than the 17 year-old at the liquor store counter with a handle of Smirnoff, a wispy moustache, and his older brother's expired driver's license. But still, the pieces may fit. When times get like these, I like to go back and read this classic Batgirl piece from last year's miraculous playoff run, and it inspires me to find hope in this team where raw stats, sabermetrics, and even plain common sense are often absent.