Twins at Yankees. Twins 7, Yankees 3.

Oh, wow. It doesn't take a lot to make Batgirl happy these days. I mean, just yesterday in the sixth inning Batgirl and the BatKitties Three let out cheers of joy that shook the whole house. Jeb came bounding upstairs—thump thump thump thump—and burst into the room. "What? What happened?"

And Batgirl turned to him, tears of joy streaking down her face. "WE GOT A HIT!" she exclaimed. "OH SWEET JESUS WE GOT A HIT!"

Jeb was, shall we say, not impressed. Some words were said that are not appropriate for a family blog. He would have been impressed, though, had he been watching the game and had spent the prior two hours in mortal terror that we'd be no-hit. Really. BatKitty 2 was so worked up that somewhere in the 5th he got the shits.

Well, there was much more cause for BatCelebration tonight, not to mention some serious BatKitty Indigestion. In the first couple innings it seemed like the Yankees were just toying with us, letting us load the bases just to throw our incredible offensive pathetic-osity in our face. Which, you know, is just mean.

But that's just the way the Yankees are. Mean. Like putting up that 150 year old pitcher against us just to taunt us. I mean, it was one thing to throw Randy Johnson at us—he's supposed to be good—but to highlight the soul-sucking impotence of our bats by pitching Al Leiter—why, that's a real low blow, Torre. A real low blow.

Leiter was particularly cruel tonight, taunting us by completely sucking. 5 I.P., 7 hits, 5 walks, a hit batter, 847 pitches—all that, and we could only manage one run off him. (Though—to be fair--it's a distinct possibility that we were still experiencing a suckover from yesterday's game.)

But you know what happens when you're mean? You get struck out by Johan Santana. And then you feel bad about yourself. And then you sit in the dugout and say, "I've just been struck out by Johan Santana, who is clearly a superior specimen of personhood than I, and it has made me re-evaluate both my actions and my motivations and my overall purpose on this earth."

And sometimes, when you're mean, you get thrown out by Torii Hunter. Like, say, in the bottom of the 3rd. There was one out and runners on first and second, and Gary "Wiggle Bat" Sheffield hit a single to centerfield. Because he's mean, Derek "Number Two" Jeter decides to try to score from second base (I mean, Derek, sweetie, we suck offensively, not defensively. Read the memos more carefully!). Torii "Sweetcheeks" Hunter makes an absolutely perfect throw to Joe "Chairman" Mauer—I mean, my god, angels wept with joy when Torii made his throw—and Jeter had to go sit on the bench and think seriously about what he did—nay, who he is.

And sometimes, when you're mean, it comes back to bite you on the ass. For the Yanks overplayed their hand tonight and the Twins came to realize the depth of their suckitude. It’s one thing to get shut down by Randy Johnson, but clearly there was a point in tonight's game where the Twins were shocked out of their dull-witted assbattery by the horror of what had proceeded earlier. There was a point where the Minnesota Twins offense stood up and decided they were going to Suck No More.

I can't say exactly what the turning point was—though it wasn't in the top of the 3rd, when Scott Ullger, acting as 3rd base coach presumably because he lost a bet, decided to send Bret Boone from first on Justin Morneau's double to left in the 3rd. Now, the ball was pretty much heading toward Posada by the time the Boone-ster rounded 3rd, and as Boone was heading home Posada grabbed the ball, recited all 17 verses of Alfred Noyes' "The Highwayman," and braced himself for impact. Boone sort of threw himself at Posada, as if a bird against a picture window, and then bounced off the Yankee's catcher, crumpling to the ground like a sparrow who had lived its last. Hunter and Jamie Burke it was not.

No, it would take a few more innings for the Twins to wake up, but you know what? Once they woke up, they woke up but good. Three runs in the seventh, two runs in the eighth, one in the ninth. And that, my friends, makes seven runs in one game. Seven runs! The crazy thing about this game was the players who were supposed to be our offense actually were. Justin Morneau, Joe Mauer, Torii Hunter, Shannon Stewart, Jacque Jones. They hit the ball. With runners in scoring position. They scored runs and got RBIs and—oh, it was so beautiful. Like a flower, a sunset, or a Bitch Sox loss.

The game was a little more stressful than it needed to be, and Batgirl may have wept tears of joy when Gardy brought in the Vice President to get the last out in the eighth, marking the Nathannator's first appearance before the 9th inning all season. Clearly, Gardy wanted this almost as bad as BG did.

'Til tomorrow, then, my friends, and remember sometimes when things are at their very darkest Joe Nathan strikes out A-Rod to end the game, and we can look off into the horizon and see just the faintest glimmer of light. And that, my friends, is worth celebrating.

BatNotes: Also worth celebrating-- the super-awesome Batlings who got hereby circled!