It was late, my eyelids weighed 5 pounds and the Twins appeared destined for a stinker when they fell behind the Chicago White Sox 8-6 in the 12th inning this past Tuesday.
Bad loss. Time for bed. Goodnight. Silly me.
If this season has taught us anything, it's that making assumptions about this Twins team makes you know what of us. The Twins scored three runs in the bottom of the 12th to add another memorable night at the ballpark to their collection of greatest hits.
Different story Saturday night.
Another shaky outing by Jose Berrios and an uncharacteristic dud by Taylor Rogers left Target Field booing a 12-5 stinker against the Kansas City Royals. A loss by Cleveland made the kick in the shins less painful because the magic number dwindled to four.
Work remains before the organization can spray beer as division champions, but this out-of-the-blue summer of bombas has served as a personal pivot point.
This season has made me enjoy baseball again, not just tolerate it or worse, ignore it. A surprise party and a welcome-back party rolled into one.
I'd long forgotten how summer felt with a relevant baseball team in town. So many dreadful seasons made Twins games the opposite of appointment viewing. They merely served as a countdown clock to Vikings training camp. Out of sight, out of mind, just put us out of our misery when subjected to an endless supply of bad, boring baseball.