Twins at Oakland. Weekend Round-Up.
Friday. Twins 2, A's 1.
Saturday. A's 2, Twins 1.
Sunday. A's 5, Twins 1.

Oh, man, you guys, BG had this whole entry started, but the fact is it's 11:00 and she's so tired her eyes are bleeding. As you all know we are approaching the anniversary of Batgirl's birth (also "Cupcake Day!"). A simply day, of course, is not enough to honor the occasion and Batgirl generally likes to declare the surrounding time "Batgirl Week," which has thus far entailed lots and lots of food including All-You-Can-Eat sushi at Martini Blu tonight. It turns out, when pressed, Batgirl can eat a great deal of sushi.

There also was, Batgirl must admit, several glasses of some sort of blue-colored drink (orange vodka, sake, blue curacao, and pineapple juice) more than Batgirl would normally have ingested, but you see, boys and girls, drinking makes the pain go away. And Batgirl was in so very much pain. It all started so promisingly—sure for a long time on Friday it looked like we were on the road to handing El Presidente another soul-crushing loss, because we're the Minnesota Twins and crushing people's souls is what we do. And it was the 7th inning, the President had given up two hits, and unfortunately one of those hits involved Frank Thomas and his boom boom stick, and the Twins, of course, had their heads deeply up their ass-bats (and BG doesn't mind getting shut out by Barry Zito, but, really—Kirk Saarloos?). Then Cuddy led off the 8th with a base hit and the good Doctor strode up to the plate and BatDad said, "Wouldn't it be great if he hit a homer?" And Batgirl, Jeb, and BatMom all agreed that, yes, it would indeed be great if he hit a homer, and, well, boom! And yes, it was great. Dammit.

It seemed to portend such good things, because last year the Twins never would have won that game (since winning would after all, have required scoring runs). But with one swing of the bat the Doctor said, "No, no, this is not last year, and this year I have not suffered from pleurisy or a concussion or leprosy or the heebie-jeebies and I can hit the ball many moose antlers when the situation calls for it." And so, on Saturday, when Bradke found his groove (or something very like it) it seemed that the Twins would find a way to win for him, and really there were so many chances, so very many chances…

Batgirl listened to Saturday's game while cooking dinner—an artichoke pesto lasagna—and if her dinner guests wondered what the odd flavor was in the white sauce, well, that was Batgirl's youth. I don't know what’s more discouraging, hearing somebody pop up a late-game crucial bunt or having the go ahead run score because Morneau and Castillo decided it would be a great time to play Keystone Kops on a routine pop-up. But the thing is, it wasn't a great time, not at all, in fact it was a totally shitty time and Batgirl doesn't know why you would do that to her so close to her birthday.

So, basically, if I have this straight: now that the pitching is somewhat under control, the hitting has decided to go all craptastic again. Meanwhile, the Batbaby can field better than this infield, with only slightly more drool, and all of that leads a (bat) girl to drown her sorrows in blue curacao. At least she knows where to send the rehab bill.

BatNote: The Twins may not have been interested in giving BG an early bday present, but look what the mega-fantastic Duke from Oakland is sending her:

That is an A #1 Torii Hunter BP home run ball, signed to a very close personal friend of Batgirl's.

Sweet.