Boston at Twins. Twins 5, BoSox 2. (12 innings).

Goodness, Batgirl said to Jeb at about 8:30. 7th inning already? This game has gone so fast!

A good thing, too, as BG and Jeb are catching a cab at 7am to go to California where Jeb will formally receive his professional smarty pants certification, plus Casa BG is going to have an open house on Sunday so the whole darned place had to be cleaned and kitty litter scraped out of various nooks and crannys while the kitties themselves need to be dumped off at BatMom and BatDads, plus there's the whole packing thing, so, you know, thanks for the quick game and let's just score off Bloody Sock so we can—

Well, just as Jason Varitek so rudely sent a Johan K. Santana pitch long, the BatPhone rang. It was Batgirl's dear friend, Zana Redstocking, who had just picked up the phone to say how awesome Johan is when Mr. Varitek committed his unspeakable act. Since Jason Varitek is Zana's boyfriend, BG can only assume Ms. Redstocking exercised some psychic power, and BG asks politely that she not do that anymore, at least when Johan's on the mound. He's sensitive.

"That's the game," BG said. "Johan's going to pitch like this and lose the #@$@#$@ game."

"No," said Ms. R, "Schilling is inconsistent. You'll win."

"To win we'd have to score," said BG, "and we don't know how to do that."

Silly Batgirl. Dost thou forget Michael Cuddyer and his boom boom stick? True, it wasn't a grand slam—but the Twins can't have a grand slam every game, can they? (And Cuddles only hits those when we lose.)

BG was envisioning at that point a two-headed BOD, Cuddles and Johan holding hands and skipping toward victory. Because—well—Johan. Remember his last start? Remember how it wasn't so good? Well, this one was so good they went back and gave him a win for that game. He struck out the first five—which, if you're counting, goes, "Sit down bitch and bitch and bitch and bitch and bitch. All of you, please, sit down." It got so that when in the third a BoSox ball fell just out of Lew Ford's reach for a hit, BG was glad because it seemed such a shame to waste an out on something that's not a K. On a night when Curt Schilling moved closer to 3000 strikeouts, Johan fanned his 1000th batter and BG is dearly looking forward to the next couple of thousand. He may have them by the end of the season.

Well, of course, as anyone who has to get up early to catch a cab tomorrow knows, the game was not short, not at all. The 1-1 hot-hot-Cuddles-on-Varitek tie lasted through nine, ten, and at some point Zana Redstocking calls and says, "Please, please, I don't care who wins anymore, I just want to go to bed." Opportunities came and went like the days of our lives—eleven, twelve—then, like sand through the hour glass, the tie game slipped through Jesse Crain's fingers.

But it wasn't as bad as it could have been. LNP played a "small" part in the Twins' victory; with the bases juiced and one out, Alex Gonzales hit what seemed to be a basehit, until Little Nicky snapped his green speedo and dove for the ball. They couldn't get the double play, but he kept a sure two run play to one run (not to mention the Doctor who made a great grab on Castillo's errant throw), leaving us with the bottom of the ninth, the middle of the order up, and--dare I say--hope.

Well, with one out, Cuddles took one for the team, then the Doctor (who had been "out" in an earlier inning trying to stretch a single and said a very very bad word) hit a ground rule double and they walked Sweetcheeks—and the rookie stepped up to the plate. Our hearts are in our throats—he's just a kid, it would be so easy to mess up, he's been doing so well, all we need is a sac fly, come on Rookie!—

And, well, boom. And it was just so beautiful.

That is what it is for us now—we don't get to watch the standings and dream of post-season, but we do get moments like these—Johan Santana striking out five in a row, Cuddyer showing Johan he wouldn't allow his start to go to waste this time, and a kid with a lot to prove stepping up in the twelfth and hitting the ball all the way to 2007.

And now, at the very end of the radio broadcast came the announcement that the T-Fat era is over. BG wishes he'd proven everyone wrong and become the third baseperson of our dreams—he's one crazy-ass loon and that, in itself, is enough to endear him to Batgirl. Good luck to you, T-Fat, I'm genuinely sorry it didn't work out. And welcome to the bigs, Jason Bartlett. We're very pleased to see you. Here's to the J&J boys—long may they reign.

Batgirl will be gone until Monday. Infield will be popping in once in awhile and Goober will take care of BOD, post pictures of the BatBaby, and anything else he feels like, and the BatBaby may come and spit up.