Cleveland at Twins. Indians 6, Twins 4.

It was knitting night at the Metrodome, and all the Twins gathered early to start work on their projects. Everyone had a different one. There was Juan Rincon with his reindeer sweater, Justin Morneau making a Canadian flag, Michael Cuddyer a tea cozy, Lew Ford his Dr. Who scarf. Matt Guerrier, finally able to knit again after weeks on the knitter's DL, is back working on some cotton manpris, and Johan Santana took a break from his relentless knitting of bears for the Mother Bear Project to make a zebra striped thong, which he worked on all game.

There was, as often happens when groups of knitters gather, some taunting. Most of it was in good fun, but some of it cut a little deep. When Torii Hunter questioned Justin Morneau's intarsia skills, Morneau muttered, "Whatever. You don't know your moss stitch from your ass stitch." Them, of course, are fighting words. Meanwhile Juan Rincon was happily knitting away at when Carlos Silva took one look and shook his head.
"Juanie, ponchos are so five minutes ago."
Rincon sighed. "Carlos, why are you such a slave to fashion? I like ponchos. They combine the very best qualities of a sweater and a blanket in one wearable garment. Sometimes I like to sit around my house wearing just a poncho. It feels so good to feel the breeze through my armpits and also my pee pee while my torso is snug and warm."
"Hey," said Little Nicky Punto, who appeared in front of the pair carrying two bulky packages in his arms. "Have you seen Cisco?"
"No," said Silva.
"Probably still waiting for Ozzie to put him in the game," said Rincon.
"Oh," said Punto. "Well, tell me when he gets here. Oh! Gardy's in his office!"
And with that, Punto took off.
A few minutes later, Gardy appeared in the clubhouse wearing an outfit that was decidedly not MLB-standard.

Silence spread over the clubhouse. One beat. Two. Three. Finally, Torii Hunter's voice broke through.
"What the hell is that?"
Gardy narrowed his eyes. "Little Nicky Punto made it for me. I think it's nice. He's got spunk, that LNP!"
Just then, Francisco Liriano walked through the door. Little Nicky Punto jumped up, ran to the pitcher, and slid head first into his feet. "I made you a present!" he exclaimed, getting up and handing Cisco a package.
"Thank you, Little Nicky Punto," said Francisco, looking genuinely moved, or at least very very tired. But when he opened the package, his face changed into puzzlement.
"I thought you could wear it today," said LNP.
"But…." said Cisco. "I have to pitch. I cannot wear your ridiculous scarf and hat."
"Why not?"
"The yarn is too thick."
"It's very breathable."
"It does not even match."
"Who cares? It’s made with love!"
"But I do not wear scarves and hats. I pitch shut outs and strike people out and make them question their self-worth."
"Are you saying—" Punto's eyes filled with tears—"you don't want to wear my scarf and hat?"
And Punto's eyes grew so round and sad, and Liriano was taken back to his first knitting project, when he handed a pair of fun fur gauchos to his sweet mother who took one look and said, "I hate gauchos!" and his heart broke into tiny little pieces and since then he has had to work out his feelings of anger and regret and shame by making opposing batters feel very very bad about themselves. And Liriano looked down at the diminutive infielder and forced a smile on his face.
"I'll wear your hat and scarf Little Nicky Punto," said Liriano. "I'll wear it proudly!"

"Oh, yay!" said LNP.
"But if it interferes with my pitching, I will have to have you eaten."
"Deal!"
"Deal."