Twins at Detroit. Weekend Round-Up.
Friday. Tigers 12, Twins 6.
Saturday, Game 1. Tigers 2, Twins 1.
Game 2. Twins 5, Tigers 2.
Sunday. Tigers 5, Twins 2.
It was Joe who found the pants. Maysie is a bit of a clothes horse and is always hunting in vintage shops for something truly fabulous. Of course, he could afford to wear the latest fashions, but that's just not Joe's style.
Anyway—the jeans. He says he doesn't know why he picked them up—anyone who's looked in Joe's closet knows he needs a new pair of jeans like he needs a new pair of pumps, but he said there was just something about them that seemed to call to him. So he took them into the dressing room. And when he put them on, well, they were just perfect. He looked long and lean when he turned around he noted with pleasure that they hugged his butt just right. So he bought them, and when he got home he put the bag in his closet and he forgot about the jeans.
It was probably a month later when we were in Joe's room keeping him company while he packed for the Detroit series. Joe needs a lot of moral support when he packs. That's the thing about being best friends with someone since, like, birth—you have a sixth sense for things like that. And the four of us, well, we knew each other better than we knew ourselves. We'd been through everything together, including packing with Joe. Anyway, Kyle was going through Joe's closet trying to pick out a few good outfits when he came across the bag from the vintage store. "What's this?" he asked, pulling the bag out.
"Oh," said Joe. "I bought these jeans for like five bucks! They're fabulous, but I forgot all about them!"
"Fabulous, huh?" asked Kyle. Without another word he took off his pants and slipped on the jeans.
Well, I don't mind telling you that we were all kind of stunned. I mean, he looked amazing. Kyle's a good looking guy, but there's just something about the right pair of jeans.
"That's funny," Joe said. "They fit me really well, too. Pass 'em over." And then Joe put them on and I swear, suddenly he looked like a supermodel.
So then Scottie piped up. "Can I try?" Now, Baker is a few inches shorter and much thinner than the other guys, but the weird thing was, when he put on the jeans, well, he looked just great. He looked more thin than skinny all of a sudden, and his normally nonexistent butt looked tight and perky.
"You look hot," Kyle said. And we all had to agree.
"You know what?" said Joe. "I think these are magic jeans. I think they make everyone who wears them look fabulous. Here, Carlos, you try."
"Oh, come on," said Carlos—the last of us. "No pair of jeans that fits you guys is going to fit me." Carlos is shorter and rounder than the rest of us and has huge body image problems as a result. Of course, he's totally beautiful, maybe not in that stick figure way, but still. He just doesn't know it.
"Just try it," said Kyle. "Come on!"
Carlos sighed and took off his khakis and put on the jeans. He pulled on them like he expected them to be tight, but they went on like they were made for him. And when he zipped them up and turned around to show us, well, we all gasped.
"Carlos…" Joe said.
"Carlos, you're gorgeous!" Scottie said.
And Carlos, well, it was like he knew it. He looked in the mirror, shaking his head. "Wow," he said.
"Wow," we all said.
"That does it," said Joe. "These are magic pants."
Well, we sat in silence for some time, absorbing the significance of our discovery. I mean, what do you say when you have a pair of magic pants?
"Well," said Kyle. "Clearly these pants found us for a reason. I mean, we're heading into the Detroit series and we have a real chance to pick up some games. These pants can help us!"
"That's right," said Scottie. "Why don't we each wear the pants when we pitch, and then when we're done we'll hand them over to the next guy!"
Joe squealed. "That's a great idea!"
"I think we should have a ceremony, you know?" said Kyle. "I think we should, like, swear on the pants or something."
"That's a great idea," said Carlos. He took off the magic pants and spread them in the middle of Joe's room. We got up and stood in a circle and held hands.
"We pledge," said Joe, "that we each will wear the magic pants during our very important starts during the Detroit series. After our start, we will immediately pass on the pants. We promise we will tell each other everything that happens in the pants. We promise not to wash the pants, ever. We will promise to honor and respect the pants by pitching the best we possibly can. We promise not to give up six RBI's to Craig Monroe. We promise to use the power of the pants to lead our team to victory!"
At which point, Carlos raised his hand. "What if the pants help us pitch the best we possibly can, but the offense really sucks and we lose anyway? What if our baserunners start acting like they're monkeys with massive head injuries and they run us out of every situation?"
Joe smiled and squeezed Carlos's hand. "Trust in the pants, my friend. Trust in the pants."