Written by frightwig

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colors gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.

--Tennyson

Old Terence felt sorry to see her going off to Newfoundland and points beyond, places unknown, leaving him to tend the field without her helpful support this week. He knew he'd feel terrible lonesome. But he hated to see Batgirl blogging so hard day after day without rest, to the exclusion of well, having a life. He knew that she should have a break, a trip to some far-off place, more exotic even than Halifax, or The Dells. After two hours of smoking and hard reflection he realized that she could do with a new dress for the trip, as well. A dress with puffed sleeves. So he drove down to Lawson's to pick out just the dress, and also ordered a garden rake, some hayseed, and 20 pounds of brown sugar for good measure. One never knows when these things might be needed on the farm, after all.

Puffed Sleeves!

So it would be up to him to look after the field down by the Camden Railway Yards this Monday afternoon, to take care that the Birds wouldn't over-run the grounds. Would it be the same without Batgirl watching? Nay, never; but he would have the help of strong hands like Morneau, Ford, Stewart, Hunter, and Tiffee, usually reliable; and in Henry Blanco and Pat Borders he would still have a couple kindred spirits of his own age to converse with him in the dugout. Augie would be out at shortstop today, too, which is always fun. No matter how many times you hear it, after a great play it never gets old to hear the dugout ringing with the cheer, "Augie! Augie! Augie! Oi! Oi! Oi!"

"If that don't get you out of bed in the morning, you oughta be hanging up your spikes," Terence figures.

The first few innings, the afternoon did indeed get off to a glorious start in the field. True, that Terence gave up the occasional hard hit: a near-HR just foul down the leftfield line, a hard liner for a single to one side of the field, then later another to the other side, or a double off the wall. But the good thing about the wily veteran Terence, they say in the dugout and broadcast booth (incessantly), is that he never does the same wrong thing twice. He scattered these hits amongst some weak pop-ups and grounders, the occasional strikeout, a timely double play, and the young 3rd baseman made a Tiffeerrific stop to save a hit up the line in the 2nd inning. Through 4 innings, he kept the Birds at bay.

In the top half of the 2nd, the Orioles did their best to help Terence's cause by playing the field as if they'd been invited for raspberry cordials and got drunk on currant wine. The rookie pitcher Daniel Cabrera threw away a sac bunt by Lew Ford, then Miguel Tejada booted a groundball hit by Michael Cuddyer. Yet the Twins could not cash in with any runs crossing the plate, as two young lads in their primes were tragically cut down at home. Worse things have happened to young Ford whilst playing Doom or ironing shirts, but for the luxuriously tressed Morneau it was the most tragical thing that had ever happened to him.

"Just say one word and tell me if you're killed!" cried Tiffee.

"No... but I think I've been rendered unconscious," whispered young Justin.

In the dugout, Kyle Lohse implored to Terence, "The situation could not be any more dire! Can't you even IMAGINE you're in the depths of despair?"

"No," replied the sage veteran. "I cannot. To despair is to turn your back on God. The sun will go on rising and setting whether we win this game today or not."

"I think I'd rather it didn't go on if I failed," said Kyle. "My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes. That's a sentence I read once and I say it over to comfort myself in these times that try the soul."

Terence got up to move back over by Blanco and Borders again.

Despite Kyle's pessimism, things began to tilt in the Twins' favor in the 5th inning when Terry "Yum" Tiffee led off with a soft liner to leftfield, and moved to 3rd base when Old Terence?'s bosom friend Henry Blanco doubled off Larry Bigbie?'s glove at the wall. Tiffee scored to a hail of "Augie! Augie! Augie!" calls, when Mr. Ojeda hit a sac fly, and even the awkward slide into the catcher could be kindly overlooked. By everyone, that is, except for Corey Koskie, who would store that scene in his memory for future reference. And although Jacque Jones just missed a home run by hitting a 400-foot flyout to centerfield, ending the inning, the Twins were up 1-0.

Terence is old, however. He's worked hard all his life, and it began to show in the bottom of the 5th. Tim Raines, Jr. (born when Terence knew his father as a young man) led off with a single up the middle. Brian Roberts hit a flare double into the gap between Hunter and Jones. Then after he had struck out Bigbie with a whip-like slider, he left up a mistake to Melvin Mora to spank into leftfield, scoring two runs. The next inning, out of professional courtesy to a peer, he allowed B.J. Surhoff to lead off with a walk; which of course came back to haunt when he grooved a fastball to Jose "I Have a .503 OPS!" Leon. A pitch which was unsportingly knocked out of the yard where Torii Hunter could not catch it. After Raines, Jr. returned to dunk a double up the rightfield line, Old Terence dropped in his harness.

Batgirl, I am slain!

After that, well, Jesse Crain shooed the Birds away without any further damage in the 6th, and for good measure pitched a 1-2-3 7th inning to bolster his chances of making the postseason roster. Fultz pitched a fine, scoreless 8th to allow the bullpen core to take a day of rest, as well. Terence's helpers on offense couldn'?t get much going after he'd left the field. The only decent threat was nipped in the bud by an impressive diving stop by Brian Roberts, the kind of play Luis "Tragical" Rivas dreams of making, robbing Shannon Stewart of the credit for a hit up the middle which should have advanced Ford to 3rd base with no outs. Alas. The Twins would be 4-1 losers in Baltimore this Labor Day. But no matter.

The team can still remember a wise voice telling them, "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it. The division is all but sewn up to the last stitch. Now is just a time to tune up for the sweet festivals of October. Yea, October!"

As the girl from Green Gables so memorably said, "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill--several thrills?"

Hey, I can hardly wait.

"Dear old world," she murmured, "you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you."

Hurry home, Carrots. Thanks for allowing me some space in your blog today.

Posted by el diablo at September 7, 2004 12:44 AM