Twins 6, Royals 5. (11 innings)

Oh, my Batlings, there's really no way to describe today's game, except perhaps for Batgirl to take all the cans in her pantry and open them up and throw the contents against the wall and then take a picture of the wall and print it up and feed the picture to one of the Batkitties and wait a few hours and then go to the Batkitty Litter Box then throw the result on the wall too and then try to clean the whole thing up, accidentally mixing ammonia and chlorine bleach, which my dears you should never ever do, and then having Jeb find her and the Batkitties passed out on the floor and he has to take them to the hospital where they are all miraculously revived, but not before vomiting various substances into a puddle on the floor that one of the orderlies trips on and skids down the hallway, through the operating room doors, and lands head first in someone's right breast implant, which promptly explodes in everyone's faces. The game was like that. Kind off.

It all started innocently enough. Kansas City pitcher Runelvys Hernandez, who had promised a victory today, began by getting Shannon Stewart to ground-out. A good start, but then he promptly walked Jason Bartlett, hit Lew Ford, gave up a single, a long sac fly, and a walk before retiring Corky (Corky) Miller for the 3rd out. Oops.

That three–run lead was enough for Lohse…at least for two innings. In the third, the Royals came back with two singles, a triple, and a sac fly and suddenly the game was tied. All was very peaceful for some time, with Hernandez acting all good-pitcher-y, and Lohse surviving another inning until somehow he managed to hurt himself while hitting Angel Berroa, which is some feat. But Shaggy Guerrier performed ably in long relief, and the Twins came back in the 7th thanks to some heroics by Justin Morneau and Lew Ford, and took a 5-3 lead. Jacque and Stewie flashed some leather in the bottom of the inning, and then Juan Rincon came in—and game over, right?

Right?

Well, it should have been, but nothing's right when you have Corky (Corky) Miller starting. The guy has yet to have a hit on the season and due to some sort of cause/effect yin/yang action/reaction energies-in-the-universe thingy his presence in the line-up sends the rest of the players into hyperdrive, manifesting in things like Juan Rincon pitching as if he's trying to hunt for snipes as opposed to, you know, getting the batters out. It's fine to hunt for snipes, but do it on your own time, Juan. One walk, a passed ball, and two wild pitches later, the Royals had gained a run, but Rincon recalled himself in time to get out of the inning with the lead in tact.

So, we went into the bottom of the ninth with a one-run lead and the Vice President coming onto the mound, so really, game over, right?

Right?

No. Angel Berroa led off with a double, which was totally inconsiderate of him. And then—well, it all gets foggy. David "Oh" DeJesus hit a deep fly to Lewwww and Berroa broke for third and Lew made a beautiful throw to Juan Castro at 3rd who didn't exactly catch it. The ball dribbles away and the Veep fields it and throws to home—too late to get Berroa. Tie game. Batgirl dazed and confused. Batkitties all out of sorts. Wrong. All wrong. Up is down, day is night, and the Royals came back on Joe Nathan to tie the game.

So, into extra innings we go, Batgirl popping a lot of Ambirioxes, but then Dr. Morneau—who had been healing Batgirl's woes all over the place all game—led off with a single. Then Torii Hunter walked and all seemed so well in the world. Runners at first and second, no outs—what could go wrong? Game in hand, right?

Right?

So, the good Doctor gets lifted for pinch runner Luis Rivas, which is a good move, really, for the good Doctor may have many fine qualities but running isn't really one of his skills, unlike, say, cake-building or hitting the ball really, really hard. Or it would have been a good move had Rivas not immediately gotten picked off second. I mean, Morneau could have done that all on his own. Except he probably wouldn't have because he wouldn't have dared move his feet off second on account of how damn slow he is.

Well, the Royals threaten—and I mean threaten—in the bottom of the tenth. They took a knife up to our throats and pressed it so hard into the skin that they drew a little blood and they made that little sound Hannibal Lecter makes that gives Batgirl the willies and pressed the knife in a touch harder—and then proceeded to pop out a couple times.

Then, finally, Gardy substituted Joe Mauer for Corky (Corky) Miller and all was well in the universe again. Energies balanced, yins yanged, and the good Chairman drew a lead-off walk. One Little Nicky Punto sac bunt later, Mauer was on second, Lew Ford was up to bat, and soon the Twins had their victory. Not soon enough mind you, but still.

Now, there's been some gnashing of teeth and pounding of chests about how close these games with the Royals have been, but, you know, it's what you do in the one-run games that matter. We won. They didn't. The sign of a good team is the one that can pull it out in late innings, that can win by one run, that can come back when Juan Rincon starts thinking he's playing a few rounds of Crazy Pepe's Chug and Throw at the Caracas Summer Festivale. We are 6-0 against the Royals now, we pulled out all of the victories--yes, sometimes from the deepest, darkest recesses of our bums but we still pulled them out—and that, my friends, is a good thing. So smile for Batgirl, and prepare for the Los Angeles Angels of Incredibly Stupid Names.