Every fan of the Twins loves their winning a lot,
But the Twinch, who lived east of Manhattan, did not.
The Twinch hated Minny and Paul for no reason
And brooded and grumbled the length of the season.
It could be his cap had been fitted too tight.
It could be his pinstripes weren’t slimming quite right.
But I think the cause of his furious cries is
His ego too large by, oh, five or six sizes.
But whatever the reasons, the facts or the spins,
From Opening Day he was hating the Twins.
Staring out with his face in a tight, pinchy frown
At the Target Field hopefuls, each wanting that crown.
For he saw this new lineup would rise from beneath
And compete for the Series. He gritted his teeth.
“And they’re hitting those bombas!” he cried with a moan.
“That Boomstick is booming! So’s Schoop, and so’s Cron!”
So he cursed, with his Twinchy gray brain matter spinning:
“I must stop these impudent Twinkies from winning!”
For this season, he knew that the Central was open!
The Spiders had slumped! Minnesotans were hopin’
To win! They were cheering! They’d cheer! Cheer! Cheer! CHEER!
The sound drove him crazy! He CALLED! FOR! A! BEER!
Then the fans in the seat would take hankies and wave!
And they’d wave! And they’d wave! And they WOULD! NOT! BE-! -HAVE!
They would wave from the National Anthem’s first stave
‘Til the moment that Rogers concluded the save!
And then they’d do something that drove him to hate:
They’d walk from their seat, and they’d exit the gate;
They’d leave with a mindset he loathed as a vice:
These Twins fans, in winning, would leave and act nice!
They’d smile! And they’d smile! And they’d SMILE! SMILE! SMILE! SMILE!
With their kindness and handshakes and “stay for a while,”
The Twinch began thinking, “This fanbase is vile!
For too many a year I’ve put up with it now!
I must stop this ballclub from winning! ...But how?”
Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
The Twinch got a horrible, awful idea!
“I know just what to do!” With a wide, Twinchy grin,
The Twinch made a plan. “Let that baseball team win!”
He cackled and laughed. “They’ll be popping no cork
When the playoffs present them that team from New York!”
“All I need are some Yankees...” The Twinch looked around,
And with cash in his coffers, so many were found.
Did that please that cruel Twinch? Yes indeed! And he said,
“This new lineup I built will fill Twins fans with dread!
They’ll be cowering wrecks as the playoffs approach,
From the losers at home to each player and coach!”
Then he loaded some bags with an armload of cash
And he ran to the market, his speed like a flash.
And the Twinch aired his money, and players came quick
As children to sit on the lap of St. Nick.
As the contracts were signed, shouts of joy filled the sky
From New Yorkers enthralled by the Twinch’s new buy,
Now certain they’d lift a grand trophy up high.
“We’re the top! Number one!” And the Twinch swung his pen
And he signed his Twinch name. And he signed it again.
Then he surveyed his roster: a talented bunch,
Who he knew could devour some Twinkies for lunch.
He got spurned only once, maybe twice, but no matter:
He moved to the next, whether pitcher or batter,
And by spring he’d assembled a roster quite rich.
“This ballclub,” he grinned, “in The Show is a glitch!”
Then they batted and pitched from the season’s beginning,
And just as the Twinch had foreseen, they were winning!
Homers! And shutouts! They came in huge piles!
Victories mounted! The fanbase bore smiles!
And the Twinch’s was widest, he mentally certain
He and his club would be tops at the curtain.
Then he watched in the standings: the Twins could win too!
Their lead in the Central made Cleveland boo-hoo!
He watched as their bombas flew over the fence,
And he saw that this race would bring further suspense.
So he ordered his hitters to clobber the ball:
“For now,” said the Twinch, “they’ll be watching through fall!”
And the Twinch’s big sluggers were swinging their clubs:
“We’ll be sure to outhomer those wimpy young scrubs!”
But then came a sound like the crack of a limb,
All those wimpy young scrubs left the Twinch looking grim.
The Twinch was surprised by their prowess and power,
As the vets and the youngsters made visitors cower.
They turned to the Twinch and said, “Now can you tell?
End of the year, and your record just fell!”
But you know that the Twinch was too wily and sly:
He thought up a plan, waved that record goodbye,
And said, “Truly you’ve earned that old four-bagger mark
With the bombas you’ve bomba’d clear out of the park.
So I’ll bow and acknowledge your skill with the lumber.
Congrats! Go and cheer for your new record number!”
But the record, he thought, was enough for the Twins;
They could clearly hit homers, but not get those wins.
So while the division remained in their grip,
His ballclub won games at a lightning-fast clip.
And the last game was done, and the playoffs in hand;
The Twins were approaching... yes, just as he’d planned,
And the fans came and filled every seat in the stand.
All the Twinkie-nuts rooters, excited, with hope...
The Twinch shook his head. Would he favor them? Nope.
Yes, his ballclub, each game, would leave Twinkie fans coping
With loss after loss, and they’d leave the stands moping.
It was only three games, and the Twinch remained thrilled...
Yes, the Twinch remained glad as his plans were fulfilled!
For his ballclub out-batting! out-pitching! out-scoring!
Would send them back homeward, their kindness abhorring.
The ALCS would be his! Though it ended
With Twinch on the bottom, the year had been splendid.
“Bye-bye to the dry Minnesotans!” he gloated.
“They’ve learned it’s to losers they’re firmly devoted!
They’re just finding out that they lost in a sweep!
In a minute they’ll yell that the Pohlads are cheap,
Then the Twins and their Twins fans will all start to WEEP!”
“That’s a sound,” said the Twinch, “that I can’t wait to hear!”
So he paused, all to witness their joy disappear.
And he did see reactions from out in the snow.
They started out low, coming patient and slow...
But the sounds were not sad! They were measured and decent!
This couldn’t be so! In the past, but not recent...
The Twinch stared in shock! He reloaded his Twitter;
Sure, some were obnoxious, but lots far from bitter!
All these Twins and their Twins fans, the wise and unread,
Were cheering with hope for the season ahead!
He hadn’t made rude Minnesotans; they’re kind!
Somehow, no matter, they’re kind, you will find!
So the Twinch, looking out through the toe-numbing chill,
Stood asking and asking: “Why all this good will?
They lost without pitching! They lost without stars!
They lost without bombas and took to the bars!”
And he wondered for hours on a wondering bent,
‘Til one wonder came forth in a gutting lament:
“To these Twins fans, a loss is a common event:
So these fans are already, internally spent!”
And what happened then? Well, the Twinch, it is said,
Saw his ego expand right along with his head!
And the minute the Twinch felt determined again,
He went back to the market and pulled out his pen,
And he pulled out his wallet: “There’s money right here!”
...well, we’ll find out next year.