It is said that the first step on the road to recovery is admitting that you have a problem, and that's what Sarah was trying to do over at Oh, It's THOSE Girls Baseball Blog on Friday. She asks for confessions:
It's time to confess the craziest and/or least socially-acceptable thing you've done for the love of baseball. Don't worry. This is a safe place. Unless you've out and out committed a felony or harmed a puppy, we won't judge.
And she gets them, including some doozies. It's well worth stopping by.
The thing is about being a Twins Geek is that there are no shortage of stories. I asked The Voice of Reason, and she came up with the same top two that I would've come up with, the second of which is the one I'll share today. Sarah, if you want to fire up a Nick Punto Day type blogging festival - #TrueBaseballConfessions or something like that - I'll fully support it and reveal the top one. It contains a quote that TVOR still pulls out on occasion to shame me.
But first, today's story...
It's 2002, and the Twins are making their first postseason appearance since 1991. I've been writing about them the whole year on the initial year of TwinsGeek.com, though I didn't have more than two dozen people reading it before the end of July. But I wasn't going to be able to attend the first two home playoff games because I was in Pennsylvania at my wife's friend's wedding.
In fact, there was some question about how much of Game Four I would get to watch, because it was scheduled DURING the wedding and reception. Game Four was an elimination game for the Twins, and various wedding events conspired against me being able to watch it. I went a little nuts, searching high and low for a TV in some god-forsaken country club, and finally found one in the caddyshack.
I was trying to walk an impossible line, watching as much of the game as I could while also trying to make appearances at the reception with my wife and her friends. In retrospect, it's pretty clear I failed. The final straw was loaded after dinner, when the dancing started. As her friends launched themselves onto the dance floor, I asked "Would you like to go dance?"
"Well, yeah," she replied, shocked that I would even offer.
"Great," I replied. "You go dance with your friends, and when you're done, I'll be in the caddyshack."
Not my finest hour.
But it did make for a pretty good story, recounting the adventure while quoting Caddyshack multiple times. (I've recently posted some of those old archives online, and you can find it here.)
But yeah, I have a story, also starring TVOR, that puts that story to shame. It'll need to wait until the next confession.
Oh geez, I forgot to feature my favorite comment from Friday. It was an easy choice, from Beth:
August 25, 2005. (We decided we needed to know to celebrate the anniversary of Hor day.)
I am so glad I'm not the only person who remembers the day the recording skipped. A guy sitting with my group of friends said, "Those marketing people think of EVERYTHING. That'll get butts in the seats!"
I'm sure many people we tell think we made it up, but indeed, the recording skipped!
I love knowing this date. First because I feel validated. And second because my friends and I are now brainstorming how we're going to annually commemorate Hor day. I'm assuming (hoping? praying?) it's with hot dogs, and not, um...