vs. Twins 8/30

[AdamK]

Steal second at your peril. Not Hundley you need to worry about, but Schoop. He's been punishing incoming sliders.

Who has that metric? What's it called?

tHMP

[OFFNY]

o

Joe Mauer ...... Matt Wieters, without power.

[Can_of_corn]

Steal second at your peril. Not Hundley you need to worry about, but Schoop. He's been punishing incoming sliders.

Who has that metric? What's it called?

tHMP

I think Schoop could have been a heck of a football player if he had grown up in the states.

[weams]

I remember seeing him at The Ivy, in West Hollywood. He was alone, or so he seemed, so I walked up to him, introduced myself as a huge fan of Rushmore, and asked what he was drinking and if I could buy him another round. He didn't make eye contact but mumbled something about a Blue Label and soda - such a horrible waste of Blue Label - and I bounded off to the bar to get us a set (close to $100 with tip, but what can you do? He's a star, right?). I brought the drinks back and handed him one. He grabbed it, didn't say thanks, and downed it in a single massive gulp before I could even clink glasses. Then he saw mine, and grabbed it out of my hand just as I was about to drink it, and downed half of it as well, then handed it back to me, like I should be thankful to have his backwash or something.

A minute or so later, two tall and muscular women with Eastern European accents emerged with a tray of drinks for him, and - still without making eye contact - he gestured to me that I could have one. So, that's something, right? But that's actually where the night took a turn for the worse. As soon as I finished the drink - some sort of sickly sweet cocktail with a bitter finish - the room got blurry and I had trouble standing up. One of the women helped me to a chair and then things went dark.

When I awoke, I was almost entirely naked, covered in sweat, urine, and - oddly enough - what appeared to be semi-masticated bits of haggis. I was lying on a hardwood floor, my feet bound together with twine, and I was bleeding from my chest, nose and eyes. My mouth was filed with the sickening taste of my own vomit and blood, and my tongue was covered with hair (that was not my own). The room was dark but I was immediately aware of the presence of at least a half dozen hairless cats prowling about me, eyeing me as if I was a wounded mouse, their tongues darting from their downturned mouths in a manner not unlike a snake's.

That's when one of the women from the club emerged holding a long blade, the glimmer from it providing the only illumination in the dank, dark dungeon in which I was imprisoned. She brushed the cats aside, cut the twine binding my legs, and helped me to my feet. "You must go," she said, "he is crazy." She hustled me out the door, wrapped in a blanket, and threw me into the back of a waiting limousine, which drove me to the Watts Tower, where I was thrown out by a muscular bodyguard I had never seen before, and left with $20 cab fare home.

That, my friends, was the last time I would ever mistake Sean Connery for Bill Murray.

[scOtt]

Zinger. One of my all time favorites!

[OFFNY]

o

Tillman doesn't usually get warmed up until about 60 or 70 pitches into the game.

If he can find a way to somehow muddle through the next 3 innings, then he should be home free after that.

38 pitches after 2 innings.

He's getting there (warmed-up status.)

55 pitches after 3 innings.

Pretty soon, we'll be seeing Tillman at his best.

[schittenden]

That was one hell of a pop out. Towering.

[mrbig1]

Zinger. One of my all time favorites!

Me too.

[Moshagge3]

Arcia has stranded four now, first popping up the first pitch he saw, now popping up a 3-0 pitch.

[Malike]

Tillman doesn't have it tonight.

[Chavez Ravine]

That was distressingly similar to the first inning; I hope Tilly isn't starting to get into another funk.

[Witchy_Chick]

A modest 3-game hitting streak for Scopey

[scOtt]

Nick hasn't seen many pitches lately.

[Chavez Ravine]

Zinger. One of my all time favorites!

I pine for one of these nearly every day:

[tntoriole]

Remember him very well.

Harmon Killebrew was a big bopper. Between him and Frank Howard, they could hit balls harder than I have ever seen hit. Here is Harmon hitting hr in bottom of ninth in 1965 AllStar game to tie it.

[video=youtube_share;hOefotwWO3Y]