Play it on to the dawn.
The weasels are backing down. In the face of the Fear, they cower. All comers have been served. The melting vortex has consumed all but the Strong. And the Strong live here, in the blue.
God, Nick Punto might be the dumbest person I've ever seen.
They have absolutely no reason to be here. None at all. That sounds cliche, and boring, but I'm telling you, if you haven't seen them play this year, you've missed some low talent ballplayers. Besides The Baby Jesus and The Terror From Tovar Merida, there are few players on this team who have any discernable "skills". None of them are talented in any sort of metric, any sort of definition, by scout or stat. I think many of their games have simply boiled down to the opposition staring in disbelief as tiny children careen around the basepaths like kids with pockets full of quarters at the Chuck E Cheese.
They'll suck you in, this bunch, they'll give you something to watch, that's for sure. When God decided he needed someone to run down balls in centerfield earlier this year, Captain Ahab announced they were going to play every day like number 34, and that we wouldn't ever be wanting for more effort. But, christ in heaven, did he know what he was saying? Is it possible for a team to possibly play this reckless, this unhinged, and still maintain any semblence of sanity for a fanbase? I mean, 3 years ago we thought guys like Jones and Koskie didn't give a fuck about jail. Yeah, well, LIRIANO SPENT A NIGHT THERE IN SPRING TRAINING.
The Twins would be served just as well to stop playing right now and let us off the hook. We can't take this abuse, this violent shifting of emotions, much longer. We've invested too much, we watch the charts climb with organized nausea. But coming over the top of it, blanketing us, comforting the soul, is that ever present feeling of righteousness. Is this what Pious Pat thinks when he steps up on the stage of the 700 club? Bulletproof? The rest of the game seems to be happening beyond our fingertips, behind our Brainly 8 Ball. We float, as one, unflappable, eyes ever onward, smiling.
It's their fault. They put us here. We tried like hell to bail on this team, get back to work (for some of us, that meant back to "eating"), enjoy life and articulate. But that's gone now. We can only stare, glowing, into the magic that is happening on Puckett Place. And when the rest of the world asks us why we have that dumb look on our face, well, you'll have to excuse us.
We've been watching Punto all year.
We're starting to merge.
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