Well, it’s all over. The final Minnesota Twins game of the year was yesterday.
I already did most of my grieving over the 2005 baseball season—over the squandered potential and the lost opportunities, over the death of my starry-eyed optimism and the destruction of Torii Hunter’s ankle, over anything remotely related to Bret fargin' Boone's very existence, over the never-ending ass-battery and all of those bloody blasted double freaking plays.
I did my mourning already, but nevertheless, I’m still feeling a little sad today.
There were some good times.
There was “Oh Five! A Batgirl Musical.”
There was the day I was wearing my “Lew Ford is My Boyfriend” T-shirt when I ran into the REAL Mrs. Ford at the Dome.
There was Johan’s butt waggle...
...and Joe Mauer’s batting average.
There were Lew’s three-run homers...
...and a Ron Gardenhire ejection that was truly spectacular, even on the radio.
There was Justin Morneau’s first Major League grand slam...
...and there were little Nicky Punto’s beautiful bunts and head-first slides, which were silly and dangerous but also immensely entertaining.
There were Jacque Jones dingers...
...and there were all things Torii Hunter...
There was hanging with Gardy in the bar at Ruth’s Chris, and riding the hotel elevator with Juan Rincon in Seattle.
And, perhaps best of all, there was the happy discovery, five months after we started dating (when I already thought he was the bee’s knees), that going to baseball games with my Ho is better than just about anything.
So... I will try to remember the good bits, and forget about the stinky ones. Even though there were kind of a lot of stinky ones, and some of them were seriously stinky.
I still love you guys. See you in April.