Twins at Chicago. Twins 7, Bitch Sox 4. Sweeeep.

Do you remember last year? No, I know you don't. I know you had the whole thing surgically removed from your brain. The procedure was a little painful, sure, there was the whole needle through the eyeball part and then the piercing of the brain part and the where they said, "Here, I just gots to wiggle it around a little bit," and then there was the rash and the various loss of bodily functions and the constant pains like someone had stuck a fork in your soul, and then of course the procedure went wrong and you realized you were really from Mars and your memories had been erased and that Sharon Stone isn't your girlfriend at all but a total twat, plus an assassin, and you go to Mars where you live inside this shielded space colony because outside is more toxic than CC Sabathia's port-a-potty and the whole thing is ruled over by Ronny Cox, who is a major Dick, and keeps order by threatening the whole colony with oxygen deprivation, and you get the crap kicked out of you a lot, and then in the final battle you fall out of the colony into the Sabathia port-o-potty and your eyeballs start popping out and your skin explodes and finally you're saved and you get back to Earth and someone asked you how the procedure went to eliminate the memories of last year, and you say—there were some complications, but it was totally worth it.

And so—no. You don't remember. So I might, in gentle soothing tones, with a careful eye on your blood pressure and your psyche and the nearest dial-a-shrink ready on the phone, remind you that there was a season of baseball last year and it was not particularly fun, and Hee Sop Choi hurt us in a way we did not recover from for an entire calendar year, there was Bret Boone, and we only scored 18 runs the entire season.

Well, what you also don't remember is that there was a time in August when we started playing well. And there was a moment—just a moment—of hope. And during that moment, the Minnesota Twins swept the Bitch Sox of Chicago and it was beautiful.

And at the time Batgirl said let us value this for what it is, for tomorrow is for poets and Little Orphan Annie, and today we swept the Bitch Sox.

Well, hope was a cruel mistress--she seduced us, she made us feel alive again, she touched us like no one has ever touched us before, and then she kicked us squa' in the nads, laughed, and went off to suck face with the Cleveland Indians.

But she couldn't take that sweep away from us. And now that Hope is rubbing herself against us again, we must look her in the eye and say, "Tomorrow is for poets and you are a two bit whore. I do not need you to be happy, because my team has hustle, it has heart, it has Tiny Super Heroes and Big Canadians, and today we swept the Bitch Sox."

Ah, yes, my dears, we had it all this series, just like Bogie and Halsey Hall. We had defense, we had Jasons, we had homers, homers, homers. We had Michael Cuddyer with his glove and his arm and his boom boom stick, we had comebacks and near disasters, we had Johan Santana and Brad Radke, we had Carlos Silva swatting away at the creature breathing down his neck, we had Juan Rincon, we had Joe Mauer's first homerun in 8 jillion at bats against a lefty, we had Joe Nathan pretend to be human, we had Neshek pop his earned run cherry, we had the fire in Jason Bartlett's belly blaze into an inferno, we had Jason Tyner pick balls with the best of them in center, and we had Little Nicky Punto dealing tiny death blows to cap it all off.

Today's game seemed to cap the whole thing off so beautifully. We all would have been happy getting out of there with 2-3—a 4-2 road trip after winning about 5 games total on the road this season. Monday and Tuesday, those were our games to win.

But no one told the Twins. In the first inning, Punto extended his hitting streak to a not-so-tiny 18 games, then Cuddy went Boom. And Mark Buerhle's soulless little face just sort of collapsed when that ball went out and it was so so pretty. Silva faltered in the next inning, Castillo blew a play and suddenly there were runners on first and third and no outs. But Silva got out of it, Castillo redeemed himself with a triple, the Doctor performed some emergency surgery, and the Twins were up 3-0 in the 4th.

Well, Silva's luck was short lived. Jermaine Dye went yard, AJ scooted around the bases, and by the time the 4th ended (which took at least a year) thanks to Castillo the score was tied.

It's okay, we can lose this one, 2 out of 3 would be great, it would be really—

Hey, here's a tip: You do not, in general, walk Michael Cuddyer to pitch to Justin Morneau, because it makes him very very angry. Only he's a Canadian so he does not express his anger by screaming or swearing or kicking the crap out of a Gatorade bucket, no, he expresses his anger by driving in runs. But say he's not done with his anger yet, say he's got a little more to work out, say his team has just surrendered a three run lead and he's got NBP on the bases—well, he deals with it by hitting the ball many many moose antlers away. And who is to say that's not healthy?

I think it is. At the very least, it was a series to remember.

BatNotes: Dick N' Bert suggested everyone give the Twins a warm welcome on Friday. Batgirl says give 'em a warm welcome all weekend. Go to the Dome as much as you can this series and thank the boys for being so damned fun to watch.

Twins Unplugged at Champps Minnetonka tonight with Cuddyer, Rincon, and Jason Renyt Tyner. BG can't go, so someone send her a full report.

Batgirl is extending the JOE MAUER SIDEBURN CONTEST until SUNDAY. Entries are due to Batgirl SUNDAY at 10pm.