This entry posted by Twayn, who thinks he is a Compatibilist, therefore he is.

Baltimore at Twins. Twins 3, Orioles 2.

So the game is getting started and I turn on the TV and settle down on the couch, because I’m not the kind of guy who would own a divan, you know, because I don’t have a parlor or drawing room to put the thing in and even if I did have a divan I’d call it a couch anyway. I don’t have a foyer, either, but you don’t even want to hear that story. Then my wife brings me a grilled chicken sandwich with bacon and swiss cheese smothered with Sweet Baby Rays (The Sauce Is The Boss®), some Fritos on the side, and a cold Dr. Pepper. Life is good. And then the children pass through, debating philosophy on their way to the kitchen.

“You always get everything just because you were first! You're such a Primarian,” the Younger says to the Elder.

"Don't be so Ancillary. You get just as much as I do because you’re new and people think that’s cute,” responds the Elder to the Younger.

And then it strikes me. I’m following the headliner. After all the hype, after all the waiting, after five miserable, exquisite months of anticipation, Opening Day is over, and the magic lingers only in memory and the archives now and today is just another day in a grueling 162-game schedule.

But it’s a new day, with a new game, and that’s a cute little bit of magic in its own way, and there’s still that new season feel, it’s still our first turn through the rotation, and tonight we found out that, for the most part, the Orioles can not handle the Boof. Only a certain Aubrey L. Huff, late of the Astros and Rays, a native of the great city of Marion, Ohio could actually be said to handle the Boof. Oh, and Melvin Mora. But that’s all, just them. Just those two. And that damn Markakis. But nobody else. That’s it. Just Huff and Mora and Markakis. Except for a few walks, it was a Bradkelike 6IP, 3H, 2ER, 1HR, 6K, a quality start first heralded when Dick Bremer announced in the middle of the first that “the Boof is on fire.” I’d swear I’ve heard that somewhere before.

But on the other side of the hill, a certain Daniel Cabrera was pretty much on fire, too, even after a certain Luis Castillo played a little pinball with his countryman's leg to lead off the first inning. Cabrera can pitch, as he showed tonight, but I don’t see any gold gloves in his future. A few head bumps on low doorways, yes, but no gold gloves.

It was a good game, a close game, just another game in a long 162-game season, with 160 still to go. But it was a Twins game with a Twins quality and a Twins feel. It had good starting pitching, a timely seeing eye grounder by a diminutive infielder, two-for-four performances by Castillo and the Chairman, an urgent bloop single to take the leadership in late innings, a strong bullpen showing with a win and a save, and the ugliest stolen base in the history of piranhas by Jason Tyner, one of five for the team on the night.

So the season and the Twins are off and running, except for Rondell White, who suddenly has an uncharacteristic affinity for walking and who, according to Dick Bremer in the fifth inning, believes that life is scripted, that all of our actions are pre-ordained. Which is why he was able be make that amazing catch on Opening Day and be the first number-one web gem of the season, and why, ergo, Cuddyer will certainly not strike out this much all year long, and which also makes Rondell a Determinist, reminding me that my children are still in the kitchen talking philosophy and it’s way past their bedtime, and I’m still sitting here blogging on my divan. I mean my couch.

Note from RD: Twins bloggers are playing host to a meet-up Saturday afternoon at Buffalo Wild Wings in Crystal. We’ll gather starting at 2:45 p.m. for the Twins-White Sox game. This B-Dubs is at 5590 W. Broadway, the corner of Broadway and Bass Lake Road in the Crystal Shopping Center. Come join us. It’ll give us an excuse to do a few more during the season. And, really, we don’t have to meet in Crystal every time.