That's it, you guys. No more Harry Potter nights.
After the big win on Tuesday, the team went out to celebrate. Over a big dinner at Old Country Buffet, somebody down the table mentioned that the new Harry Potter movie comes out this summer.
Squeals of delight were heard up and down the table.
"I love Harry Potter," gushed Joe Crede, who was lazily picking at the food off of the plate next to him. Several at the table nodded. "No, seriously you guys. I love him." Everyone except Nick Punto stopped nodding.
Mike Redmond was the only one who shook his head. "No way you wimps. It's all about Bellatrix."
"You know what we're gonna do guys," said Gardy, interrupting a murmer of dissent to Redmond's preference for someone who would dare to oppose Potter, "we're gonna have a Harry Potter marathon. All five movies. My place."
There was much rejoicing.
"Can we stay up late and debate what we thought should have been left in the movies that was important from the books?" asked Scott Baker. He looked very excited.
"Sure," said Gardy. "I'll call the wife and let her know we'll need a few trays of those Rice Krispie bars." More rejoicing ensued.
And so they watched all five Harry Potter movies. And they debated, until the wee hours of the morning. In fact, after taking in so much magical fun, they decided that they should try working out some of the magic themselves. Heck, it'd been a tough start to the season in spite of the night's victory, they could use a little boost. They tried all kinds of magical spells: expecto patronum, wingardium leviosa, lumos.
None of them worked.
"Gee guys, maybe we should just play usual baseball, huh?" said Joe Mauer, sheepishly toeing the dirt in Gardy's back yard.
Gardy shook his head. "Nope. I just think we need to believe in ourselves. I won't have any of this no-confidence-in-spells stuff. We'll use it in the game, and under the pressure of performance, they're bound to work. That's our game plan for tomorrow night." Everyone nodded.
And so, on Wednesday night, spells were cast. Or, attempted to be cast. On grounders through the infield, on balls about to fly over the fence, Twins defenders would cry out: ACCIO BASEBALL!
But the baseball would not come.
At the plate, hitters would stare at the pitcher and mutter imperio, but the pitchers still threw their best stuff and the Twins weren't able to hit the ball. Even at the end of the game, when the Twins were so far behind it was just sad, they all began to interpret the Jays as Dementors in disguise. Nick Punto ran to the top of the dugout steps, thought his happiest thoughts (something having to do with Ron and Hermione, but we won't go into specifics) and shouted: EXPECTO PATRONUM!
Nothing happened. And the Twins lost, 12-2. The end.