Oakland at Twins. A's 3, Twins 1.

Okay, yesterday I said the incessant winning was getting tiresome, but I didn't really mean it. Haven't you baseball gods ever heard of a little thing called rhetorical irony? Or are you still giggling madly over the whole Steve Bartman thing?

Batgirl should have known that it just wasn't going to be her day. She and Jeb happily went to the "ballpark" tonight with cheer in their hearts to witness a fine Brad Radke gem, and perhaps some late inning heroics. And while we got both of those things, we would really would have been willing to do without for the sake of a "W". Anyway, everything got off to a slow start with three separate people and/or giant plush poultry and/or entities throwing out the "first" pitch. One was a little leaguer (awwww…), one a giant chicken possibly named Cooper, and one a whole posse of geriatric golf players in town for the 3M championship this weekend. Bob Casey gave a long introduction for each golfer, including Chi Chi Rodriquez. But Batgirl knew that was not really Chi Chi Rodriquez, but rather some Chi Chi Rodriquez facsimile, for the real Chi Chi Rodriguez was actually at Batgirl's house BatKitty sitting. You should call him. He's very reliable, doesn't charge too much, doesn't invite girls over, and is happy to spend his evenings practicing chip shots with toy mousies.

Anyway, Bob Casey promised us this group of geriatric golfers, or G.G.G.'s, would be throwing out the first pitch simultaneously, and if "simultaneously" means "spastically, at random intervals, for several long minutes" then he was absolutely right. Balls were flying everywhere, and the poor players drafted to act as catchers were bobbing and weaving out of the paths of errant balls like Keanu Reeves in the "bullet cam" scene of the first Matrix.

Everyone survived, the balls were collected, the G.G.G's ushered off the field by the giant chicken (okay, not really, but it would have been pretty funny and then Batgirl would have known what the giant chicken, possibly named Cooper, was for), and pretty soon it was time to play ball.

At this point, a strange smell began to waft over to Batgirl. Something very much reminiscent of, well, feet. Batgirl, it should be said, has a strong sense of smell and generally prefers the world to respect it. But a gentlemen sitting in the row behind her had stretched out his feet onto the seat next to her, and his flip flops had really seen better days, or at least less pungent ones. Things that are better with age: cheese, wine, Randy Johnson. Things that are not: flip flops, unwashed feet. The gentleman was also eating sunflower seeds and kept spitting them out very close to Batgirl's ear. He seemed to be luxuriating in the spitting process, like Keats over the Grecian Urn, and Batgirl did wonder after his hydration.

Then in the fateful fifth inning, when Erubial Durazo hit a ball to shallow left field and Guzie ran back and Shannon Stewart ran in and the ball fell in between them, the gentleman said knowingly, "Lew Ford would have gotten that." Oh really? How do you know, O Stinky-Feeted Flip Flop Spitty Man? Were you suddenly transported to an alternate dimension where everything was exactly the same, except Lew Ford started in left field tonight? Did you then observe Luscious Lew making the catch, and immediately travel back to this world—but not before making a quick stop in the world without shrimp—just in time to say, with complete authority, "Lew Ford would have gotten that?" (Now, Batgirl has certainly said in the past "Dougie would have gotten that," whenever anyone else, Twin or not, fields the position, but she does not spit and her feet smell of rose petals.)

Oh, so, anyway, it was not Batgirl's game. Mark Redman really isn't supposed to allow fewer hits and walks than Brad Radke. Not that Radke wasn't good—he pitched nine complete innings, striking out seven and allowing five hits, a couple of them feeble ones. But the Twins could do nothing against Redman—who, granted, has been hot lately, but, for the love of god, so have we. Redman sped through the Twins' line-up as if he had a hot date with Anna Benson afterwards, and the Twins batted as if they really wanted him to get there on time.

And speaking of it not being our game, well, it wasn't so much Guzie's. Batgirl believes the Guzie-bashing gets out of hand, but tonight he fielded as if he's been taking lessons from Jason Bartlett. He had an errors tonight and a string of defensive miscues that pretty much accounted for all the A's scoring, and that strange vise-like headache Batgirl had.

There was that whole fifth inning play, for instance. The ball didn't really drop in between Guzie and Stewart as much as it ricocheted off a reaching Guzman's glove. Now, Batgirl believes strongly in good communication. It makes the world go round. Communication helps us to understand each other, to resolve our differences, to celebrate our strengths, to make the world a better place—and when two baseball players are going for the baseball, it helps them to know which one is going to catch the #@$! thing.

That blooper became a double, which eventually became a run, which became a 1-0 game going into late innings. Jeb, at one point, grumbled, "I don't want to stay if we're going to lose this thing 1-0," and Batgirl said confidently, "We're not going to lose this thing 1-0!"

Well, we didn't. Shannon Stewart hit a homer in the ninth, tying the game, and all looked bright and beautiful until the eleventh, which frankly I don't want to talk about. I mean, the Twins are built on good defense, and when we make stupid mistakes, well, it makes me so mad I just want to spit.

BatAlert:: The next three games are all afternoon games--12:15, 1, and 12:15 I believe.