Toronto at Twins. Twins 3, Blue Jays 2.

Did you know how the term "bullpen" came to be?

It all began in the early days of baseball, only a decade or so after Abner Doubleday—with a dream in his heart and a Whizzinator in his pocket—single-handedly and incontrovertibly invented the game we love so today. A young team located in the Northern Heartland, playing for the glory of a new state renowned for both the bounty of its lakewater and the unparalleled handsomeness of its women, was playing for its fourth consecutive division championship. But the team had suffered several key off-season losses—most particularly a taciturn lamplighter by the name of Corbert Koskossen, and the nefarious and perfidious Flax Wenches of Chicago had been playing far beyond expectations.

The problem for the Pig's Eye Chimney Sweeps was a matter of budget, for their owner, a local railroad baron, was a renowned tightass. He wouldn't even give the Chimney Sweeps a retractable roof on their new stadium, and Aprils were cold in Pig's Eye. Indeed, that year a strange cold snap had hit the area and as the baseball season began a healthy young man couldn't walk more than a few paces without freezing his arse off. The weather was not helping the team in their pursuit of the Flax Wenches one bit, and left to their own devices, the players got together and decided to form a plan.

"We've got to raise some money for a roof," said Shannon Stewmperdink.

"I'm going to die if we have to play in this weather anymore," said Mattias Leijonhufvud, even though he had a lot of extra padding.

"Really, it's not so bad," said Justus Mornorgbergsson. "I find it quite balmy." (Mornorgbergsson hailed from the mythical land of Canadia and was said to live in an igloo in the off-season.)

"So how are we going to get the money?" asked Stewmperdink, ignoring Mornorgbergsson.

"Well," interjected closer Josef Nathannlund. "I have an idea."

"Really?" said ace Johan Santanagrenstrom.

"Well, the boys and I aren’t doing a lot back there in the designated relief pitchers' waiting area," said Nathannlund. "Maybe we could milk some cows? Then we could sell the milk to the fans and eventually we'd have enough money for a retractable roof!"

"Wow, that's brilliant!" said a rookie named Terry Mulholland.

"Wheeeee!" exclaimed Jan Rincongius. "Milking cows rules!"

"I agree," enthused Isse "the Train" Cranheim.

And so the boys put all their savings together and sent second baseman Little Nikolaus von Punto to retrieve the best herd of cows he possibly could.

Unfortunately, Little Nikolaus was a dreamer, and as everyone knows, the worst person to send on an important errand is a dreamer. For, on his way to the market, the dreamer might meet an old friend—Corbert Koskossen—and that old friend might decide to play a trick on the diminutive lad, for Corbert Koskossen was as renowned for his mischievousness as he was for his devastating good looks.

And, indeed, that is what happened.

"Why, hello, Little Nikolaus! What are you doing?"

"Well, I am going to market to buy a herd of cows. The boys in the designated relief pitchers' waiting area are going to milk the cows during the games and we're going to sell the milk and raise money for a retractable roof so we stop freezing to death and can make up ground on the nefarious and perfidious Flax Wenches."

"Really?" said Koskossen. "I find it quite balmy. ...Well, anyway, Little Nikolaus, a herd of cows isn't what you want. What you want are magic beans!"

"I do?"

"Yes!" Just plant these magic beans and a beanstalk will grow and you can climb it to a place where all your dreams comes true."

"Really?" said Little Nikolaus. "That sounds pretty sweet!"

"Oh, it is. So just give me all the money and I’ll give you the beans, 'kay?"

"Sure, Corbert! Boy, you're really nice!"

So, with that, the exchange was made. Koskossen pulled a handful of beans out of his bag, careful not to disturb the vial of Mojo he had lifted the day before, and put them in Little Nikolaus's hands. Happy, Little Nikolaus skipped all the way back to Henry Sibley Park.

"Look!" he squealed when he got there.

"Where's the damn cows?" asked Nathanlund.

"I didn't get cows. I got something better. Magic BEANS!"

The players exchanged looks. "You exchanged all our savings for magic beans?" exclaimed Nathanlund.

"Yes!" said Little Nikolaus. "I ran into Corbert Koskossen, and he—"

"Oh, no!" all the players said at once. "You can't trust him. What were you thinking?"

"He said it would make all my dreams come true!" protested Little Nikolaus.

"That's what you get," muttered Isse Cranheim, "when you send a midget to do a man's job."

"I'll show you," said Little Nikolaus. "I'm going to plant those beans in the designated relief pitchers' waiting area, and a magic beanstalk is going to grow, and I'm going to climb it and steal a golden harp and a goose that lays golden eggs and give the money for the retractable roof and all my dreams are going to come true!"

"You know what you'll be planting in the designated relief pitchers' waiting area?" said Nathanlun. "Bull----. That's what you'll be planting."

"That's right," said Jan Rincongius. "It won't even be a designated relief pitchers' waiting area anymore. It'll be an area of bull----. A whole bull---- area."

"Yeah," sneered the rest of the team.

Well, to make a long story short, Little Nikolaus von Punto planted the beans anyway, and soon a mighty beanstalk grew, and Little Nikolaus climbed it up up up to the heavens and found a castle of a mighty giant, and that giant had a golden harp and a goose that laid golden eggs, but most importantly, he had a really well-defined sense of smell and it wasn't long before he found Little Nikolaus, picked him up in his fingers, plopped him in his mouth, and swallowed without even chewing.

But all Little Nikolaus had ever wanted was to make a lasting contribution on the game of baseball, and in his memory, the Pig's Eye Chimney Sweeps renamed the designated relief pitchers' waiting area the "area of bull—" and in that, Little Nikolaus von Punto's dreams did come true. And one day, when Corbert Koskossen came back to town with his team of Eskimos, the pitchers in that "area of bull—", Cranheim, Rincongius, and Nathannlund came out of the "area of bull—" and pitched a fierce game, retiring the Eskimos in order in innings sju, atta, and nio. And, as Nathannlund got the last batter to fly out, he looked over to the beanstalk, followed it up to the clouds with his eyes, and said, "This one's for you, Little Nikolaus von Punto. Dream well, my friend, dream well."

Posted by Batgirl at May 18, 2005 11:36 PM