Twins 10, Royals 9, 10 Innings.
The Minnesota Twins huddled around the bat rack in the Metrodome before today's game, where Justin Morneau was holding court. Torii Hunter, standing next to the good doctor, nodded his approval at the lumber he held in his hands.
"So, Mr. Hunter, did I find the right ones?"
"Yeah, Curly. Yeah. These are the ones. Where did you find them?" Hunter swung the bat in a slow arc around the huddle so each player could see the word "REAL" burned into the end of the barrel.
Morneau asked, "Do you remember the car that blew up in spring training?" The group nodded and grunted in recognition. Except for Lew Ford, who exclaimed "Oh, yeah! That was funny! That car got totally pwnzed! I'm glad it wasn't mine..."
Ignoring Lew, Morneau continued. "Well, the car left a crater, eh? And it was just big enough for someone to fill it with all of our real bats and cover it up."
"Hide the real bats?" asked Michael Cuddyer. "Who would do a thing like that?"
"Like what?" Kyle Loshe, who had been in the training room, wandered up to the group.
"Man, the Doctor found us the real bats," said Matthew LeCroy.
"The real bats?"
"Yup."
"You mean, those aren't the ass-bats, the bases-loaded ass-bats or the double-play ass-bats?"
"Nope. Them's the real ones."
"Um, Mr. Hunter sir," Joe Mauer piped up, "doesn't this batch seem a bit...small to you?"
Torii stopped for a moment, considering the bats. "Yeah, Joe. I think you're right."
"But where did the other bats go?"
"I don't know," Morneau responded. "These were the only bats that I found dow--"
"Aw, crap!" Everyone turned around to watch as an ashen-faced Dave Gassner pointed to the opposing dugout. Looking over they saw, to their horror, that the Royals were fawning over several pieces of lumber. The rest of their real bats! "Aw, crap," Rivas echoed. Worried looks shot across the group. They knew what would happen when the Royals would come up to bat. They had all heard about Morneau's moon shots during his rehab. They bgean to worry about 5-run innings by the Royals. The Royals! Worry started to turn into panic...
Shannon Stewart stood up and cleared his throat. "This first thing we are going to do is calm down. Second, remember that we're still above .500 even without these bats. Third, real bats or no, these Royals are a shadow of the ones we knew in 2003."
"So," Jacques Jones said, glomming on to what his fellow outfielder was talking about, "what's the plan?"
"Well, Joe, you go tell Gardy what's happening. Um, Quirky? No. Corky. You run to the bullpen and let them know what's going on and to get ready." Stewart walked over to the now-jumpy Gassner and put a hand on his shoulder. "As for you? You just keep it together, son, and we'll get you through this and back on the bus in one piece."
So the game started. Gassner was understandably shelled for 5 runs in less than 2 innings--how would you do if you knew that your team's best bats were being used against you? But the Twins were able to give as good as they got, first with homers by Hunter and Matty-Go-Boom and then with traditional Twins baseball--taking advantage of timely hitting and mistakes by the opposing defense.
After Gassner ran out, the bullpen came in. Sure, the Royals were able to score one on Boo Berry and were able to plant three runs on Shaggy Guerrier, but everyone pulled their weight and kept their opponents from running away with the game, and their bats. Everyone, that is, but Old Man Mullholland. He had fallen asleep during the fifth inning and nobody in the bullpen had the heart to wake him up.
Finally, the tenth inning came around, with the score tied at 9. Joe Nathan stepped on the mound, surveyed the game before him and decided that the best way to deal with real bats was to make sure that they didn't touch the ball. And so he sat the Royals down, 1-2-3, without so much as a ?thank you for coming? or a lovely parting gift. As he walked off the mound, Nathan looked in the eye of every player with a fire they had rarely seen. The guys knew, despite the Count not uttering a word, that the game was now up to them.
So, the Twins came to bat. After getting Stewart to ground out, the Royals began to figure out what the Twins were up to. In retaliation they allowed the Twins to load the bases. Players gulped and began to fidget. After all, before last night, the Twins had left the bases loaded without scoring a run just as many times as hot dogs had been sold during the last Dollar Dog Night. Which is to say, a whole hell of a lot. But this time Lew Ford was at bat. Lew closed his eyes, took a deep breath, stepped into the batter's box and laced a single into center field to win the game. There was a happy, if not raucous, celebration at home plate and much rejoicing from the home crowd. Off to the side, though, Al Newman and Ron Gardenhire stood, concerned.
"Hey, Gardy, did anyone ever figure out how they ended up with our real bats?"
"Don't know, Newmie, but if I ever find out--"
Newman stepped back, as he could hear the malevolent crackle of electricity from the joybuzzer the manager had cupped in his palm. This was not good, he thought. Not good at all.
To be continued?
Midnight Pugger said:
