An unlikely combination

What a game. I'll refrain from yelling, as my voice has suffered enough tonight, but WHAT A GAME.

You could hear a pin drop when Drank His Average silenced the chants of "Al-co-ho-lic! Clap clap clapclapclap" with his home run. He most likely imagined the ball as his wife's face. No I'm not apologizing. I liked that chant. Baker didn't pitch that badly though. A quality start, with only a double and some Domestic Abuse in one inning as his mistakes. He settled down, and gave the Twins a great effort.

There was a strange dichotomy between Gardy and Leyland's bullpen strategy. Jimmy stretch-Armstronged each of his relief pitchers, especially Fernando Rodney, who pitched 3+ innings while blowing the save and losing the game. Good for Jim, though the rest of his bullpen's incompetence left him little choice. The Twins meanwhile, cycled through their entire bullpen save Francisco Liriano (Jeff Manship was warming up in the top of the 12th). The reasonable workload for Rauch, Mahay, and (suddenly gulp) Mijares probably means we'll see them tomorrow, where they'll be needed badly (Brian "Slumping" Duensing is slated to start). I hope Gardy took the right approach.

The voice is shot, as are the emotions. The sober Cabrera's home run could not be believed. There's just no way he took the lead like that. There's no way an aging, swing happy, stone-handed shortstop hit the biggest home run of the season. There's no way an aging, overpaid, Hugo Chavez supporter tied it immediately from what I assume was another fresh home-baked cookie by Matt Guerrier. I guess we can call it even, though Guerrier's recent performances, few as they were, are alarming.

Back and forth, forth and back, the Twins and Tigers trade wasted threats after the eighth. They even trade successful threats as pretty likable Brandon Inge doubles home a man from first, before Cuddly Jesus hits a huge lead-off triple, running home on a similarly huge single by Nick Punto. I mean Matt Tolbert. Then Nick Punto's sac-line-drive is not enough for Alexi "Head in The Game" Casilla's late tag to score. Scoreless eleventh, flat-line. Kepp Kepp throw sinker, Tigers catch up to sinker, except Gerald Laird, who miss scouting report on Kepp Kepp. Gomez has the audacity to hit a leadoff single while I'm in the rest room. Cuddyer advances him on what I swear is a foul ball. Delmon Young is inexplicably, intentionally induced into first base. Casilla provides explanation, but comes up with ANOTHER huge hit, and the crowd can finally celebrate.

I hope I didn't catch swing flu from all of the strangers' high fives. Strange women's elation tempted me to seize them for a makeout session. I'm sure I could have gotten away with it. Everyone was so happy. I'm so happy. Bring on a sweep from the Yanks, I don't care. That experience at the Metrodome tonight was something we can all cherish forever. Except for Tigers fans, who can go to hell.