Chicago at Twins. Weekend Round-Up.
Friday. Twins 10, Bitch Sox 1.
Saturday. Twins 8, Bitch Sox 4.
Sunday. Bitch Sox 9, Twins 7.

There are dark forces at work here, my friends, dark forces indeed. For one thing is perfectly clear after this weekend of baseball—the Twins are locked in an immortal struggle for their very souls, an epic battle between Manichean opposing principles—good/evil, light/dark, sucking/not sucking. There were simply two different teams on Sunday night—the first, bathed in halos and lights and awesomeness, responded to a three-run first by scoring seven runs in the bottom of the inning. The Twins played pinball with the Bitch Sox infield, and then capitalized when their defense went TILT—Boom, Boom, Boom! Basehits everywhere, again and again, take that and that and that, Your mommy never loved you Mark Buehrle!

Ah, how beautiful it was. What we should have remembered is: the thing with beauty is, it's fleeting by nature. Just try to capture it, to keep it for your own—pick a rose, pin a butterfly, cage a bird, lure a shirtless Johan Santana into your velvet-walled, leather-floored basement lair and trap him in there and force him to do your bidding, except on some days when it's more fun for you to do his bidding, and you'll find the very quality you so lusted after has been lost (except Johan's). The next thing you know Silva's faltering, the Bitch Sox are rallying and there's Jim Thome, always there's Jim Thome, every second batter he's there, our offseason dream turned into our worst nightmare. And the Twins—what happened to the Twins? The first inning they play defense like a poem and then Boot! Boot! Boot! and we are through the funhouse mirror and there are evil twins all over the place booting the ball and Jim Thome rounds the bases and rounds them some more and we brought it on ourselves because virtue is rewarded and evil is punished, punished like Luis-Castillo-hitting-into-a-triple-play punished...and that crap doesn't happen by accident. (And, really, as bad as it was—did we deserve that? Did we? Really?) Suddenly we couldn't convert anymore and we'd get runners on and find new and exciting ways to strand them and by the end of the game we'd left everyone and BatMom on base. And poor BatMom, she hates being left on base, it gets so cold and lonely and it's Mother's Day after all and she deserves better, she really does. It's not her fault one twin turned out so good and the other so very, very bad.

The point is, sooner or later the two Twins are going to come head to head, are going to have a knockdown drag out battle for the soul of the team. Of course, only one will be left standing. Whichever one it is, let's hope someone hits him home.

BatNote: Kudos to Torii and the rest of the boys for swinging those pink bats. They looked good on you, guys. Brad Radke's mom would be proud.