Twins at Texas. Rangers 5, Twins 4.

Yesterday, Batgirl, with the help of Johan Santana, staged an intervention for Kenny Rogers and his gambling problem. Loyal and perspicacious BatLing arrScott asked Batgirl to stage an another intervention, one for all of the Twins, one to help rid them of another harmful addiction—winning.

Yes, the Twins have a winning problem, except of course when they have a losing problem. Our guys simply are not capable of playing steady baseball; they're streakier than Goober's glasses, streakier than when Batgirl works blue, streakier than the Soy Bomb guy at the Superbowl.

Perhaps haunted by the specter of the sucking-time(s), the Twins seem to feel a pathological need to win every game, because as they've seen already this year, losses feed off of each other like the angel fish Goober and Sooz bought once. Pretty soon, you've got a six-game losing streak and one well-sated fish in your aquarium. As arrScott put it so well, "When they don't win, instead of saying, 'Well, that's that; can't win 'em all,' they blame themselves and get all tense. The toxic mix of anger, shame, and tension creates a feedback loop of suckiness."

The problem, I think, is that the Twins are more emotionally fragile than a group of seventh grade girls during the swimming unit at gym class. I mean, first they had to hear about how terrible they were for years, and Tom Kelly was so distant and never told them that he loved them, and then Bud Selig told them they looked fat in their uniforms and they're an aberration anyway, plus they play baseball in a giant Teflon dinner roll that everyone makes fun of, and all the marquee players are being outgunned by a freckle-faced idiot savant and a Canadian stoic with a bad perm.

But, my dear Twins, take Batgirl's hands, all of you. Come on, Boo, that means you, and you too, Guzie. Here's what you must know: Baseball teams lose. They do! (Except for the Cardinals.) And it's okay, it really is. The sun still shines, birdies still sing, fish still cannibalize each other, and Batgirl lives on to blog another day. The important thing is to shake it off, okay? Stand up, right now, and shake it off—are you shaking Corey? Good.

And speaking of feedback loops, Batgirl fears that her beloved Joe Nathan is in one right now. Dearest Count Chocula, you are our very Nathanest of Joes, our vice-presidential candidate, the cream in our coffee, the fudge on our sundae, the exclamation point in our sit down bitch. And it was really fun when you were absolutely utterly perfect, but, you know, we'll take just being really good. I'm okay, you're okay. It's all right to cry.

Yes, our cereal mascots were not at their best today. Neither Boo nor Chocula could get the job done for Silva, who'd pitched very well after having quite a bit to shake off in his last couple of starts. And despite some Canadian heroics, today's game was not ours to win. Tonight, we curl up snug in our beds, teddy bears at our sides, put Joe Nathan's drawers in the freezer, and get ready to win the series.