Twins at Tampa Bay. Twins 8, Devil Rays 0.

"That's one way to score," said Jeb after Michael Cuddyer crossed the plate in the 4th for the first run of the game. None of the other ways were working—the Twins found any number of ways to strand and erase runners in the first three innings of tonight's game. And it seemed in the 4th like they might have found another one—Cuddles led off with a double and then appeared to get caught in a rundown. Oh, poo bucket, it looks like another blown—

Ah, but this is Michael Brent Cuddyer, my friends, who said, "I am not going to frack this thing up one more time, I was not All-State at linebacker* in the great state commonwealth of Virginia for nothing, nor was I co-president of the Knut Rockne fan club** just for shits and giggles, and I am going to take my big cheeks and my man shoulders and my almost-100 RBIs and I am going to knock that ball out of BJ Upton's hands, and it is going to be totally awesome."

And it was. You could practically hear the pads crunch. That hit was better than anything we're going to see on the Dome's gridiron this year, and if only Cuddy had more DWIs in his past, I'd suggest the Vikes sign him. As soon as he landed the hit, BJ Upton let out one weak gasp of, "O, I am slain!" then crumpled to the ground like a Victorian lass with a too-tight corset, while Cuddy dove into third and proceeded to do the funky chicken.

Then Torii Hunter hit a weak fly to left—not enough to score Cuddles (alas, O cursed bucket of poo, another wasted—) but he feinted to home and that was enough to make Crawford's bowels seize up, like, majorly, and, you know, it's really hard to throw when your bowels have seized up, and so he threw a Hail Mary pass that landed roughly in the fifth row (Again, still a better pass than we'll see from the Vikes.) and it was funky chicken time for Cuddles all over again.

A moment of stunned silence in the Twins dugout. And then, as one, everyone exhaled as the truth dawned, and players turned to each other one by one with fire in their eyes—except Jason Bartlett who keeps his entirely in his belly lest he get sent down again—and said, "What the hell. You know what? We don't suck! These guys suck!"

Ah, yes, it's true. These guys suck. And tonight, the Twins did not. El Presidente caused four firehouses to empty out and when the engines arrived on Tropicana Field they all put down their hoses, as one, wiped the sweat off their brow, and said, "Damn, that guy's hot."

And suddenly the Twins could do things they haven't done in days, like—oh—convert on scoring opportunities. Cuddy went from football to baseball when he launched a ball just over the stands that unfortunately bounced out of a fan's glove and back in again. He was robbed of a homer by third base ump Tim Tschida's ophthalmologist, who was late in sending out his annual appointment reminder cards this year, and if Cuddy misses 100 RBIs by just one BG's going to call the AMA on him. Gardy said some things to the ump that would have gotten him suspended from Twins broadcasts (did he want showtime?) but by then the game was well in hand. Even the Chairman used the power of milk to remember how to hit again, and the Bitch Sox lost, and the Minnesota Twins are 1.5 games up in the wild card race—and all is well in the world.

BatLinks: Some tidbits from SI…What's in a Name? and Top 25 AL Breakout Players. Also, if you missed Bert's gaffe, here it is, thanks to Warning: there will be actual profanity used. Hide the children!

*Not actually true, as far as Batgirl knows.
** Totally true.