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ALDS Game 3: Astros at Twins

ALDS things that we’ve done...

MLB: ALDS-Minnesota Twins at Houston Astros
Here’s hoping for another sweet, sweet victory...
Thomas Shea-USA TODAY Sports

First Pitch: 3:07 PM
Radio: TIBN, WCCO 830, The Wolf 102.9 FM,
Know Thine Enemy: The Crawfish Boxes

(I might have parodied this song already, but:
a: I can’t recall if I did,
b: it fits too well.)

Well, we had two decades of end-of-year bumming in a streak of eighteen painful games increasingly numbing;
The pundits said though postseason victories abound, we’d be unable to just win.
The longer the Twins were losing in autumn weather left an awful odor,
We were sad
When thinking of the baseball team that plays in Minnesota,
The joyless baseball team that plays in Minnesota.

And the start of this season wasn’t up to par with a spate of gaffes and misdemeanors,
Awkward moments leaving us labeled as mediocre by and by,
Couldn’t hit a winning streak no matter anything we’d try as springtime melted into summer.
Middling wouldn’t fly in any mind who said we’re sure to bust;
We’d all feel bad and the year would be a bummer.
Some resigned to this pitied fate, concluded that we’d never do it;
Others craved a pennant with a hope they said they could just intuit.
But all of us were watching, wanting what we hadn’t got;
Though on top of the Central, legions deemed us frauds filling ‘23’s team quota,
An undistinguished baseball team that plays in Minnesota,
An undeserving baseball team that plays in Minnesota.

And the cynics would have bet their lifelong fortunes on a fall to their delight,
The course seemed definite when the deadline reached its end.
We’d seen the team stand pat, a pitied choice deemed hardly worth but a peanut,
But the fans undaunted provided a spark;
We’d start to win those games — start beating others. It’s a freefall?
We’re going places that we have hardly been.

We yelled with a clamor: excitement rose to see ‘em as batsmen were bombing hits and ace pitchers hurled;
Grew tougher for every game, knew we got hot, and expected we could shock the world.
We learned to toast our team, come back to see amazing aces; we could thrive in the middle of a spree.
We’ve battered taters far, hammered slams to boost chances, but there’s so much more we want to be:

Well, our clinching the Central scratched an itch most content,
But those fraught inside said we’d find all hexed; we’d whiff these trials.
Yet the team was so happy, they started spraying 99 bottles that smeared on the wall;
More than 27 cried that day.
And we’d play at our home on our sand and grass, raising throttles to score, ever pumping blazing nitrous in our motor;
What a day to be the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!
We want to see the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!

Finally, our playoff hopes could pay off in an early series with opponents sweating under Minnesota lights;
Noisy as pistons, volume was rising energetically; on a mission, the roaring fanbase fueled those nights.
With Pablo’s arm and Royce’s grand preeminence to soar, his glorious blasting of the sphere,
Any Blue Jay overwhelmed by this clear intensity would have to stop for help in fear.
And in this all, we found we could change our fate; our bleak days
Forced to quit, a lined grounder to first as the coda:
Thus wins the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!
All celebrate the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!

No one on Earth can help but stand as we undo this pesky thing:
Though winding up winning one game, it’s one win; there’s more to get a ring.
How are we heating anew?
How are we beating our quest?
How did we build it? How did we do it?
We want to be the best.
Maybe you’re satisfied, but for Minnesota pride,
There’s a great delight in store for which we have vied:

So we came back, another game to play and it’s one Toronto must clutch if they hope to last in the season;
Although maybe they’ll be good, we haven’t made it only this far for them to send us home: who needs another reason?
So we kept getting hits, stopped a threat or five, made a pickoff play keeping our prayers alive,
And raising morales, a pair of key hits from Carlos,
Watched as Schneider pulled Berríos — clearly not a bright call, greeted with jeers —
It’s Toronto’s groans, not our lows.
Our pitching stopped every comer, made them flail at the ball, every bat swinging round in a breeze,
Still numb, our nervous base saw our lineup add insurance in a single run to stem unease.
And we all just stared as they quelled any doubt, and Duran came in, set on closing them out,
This tense fear hardly bearable all the while.
But he started dealing, throwing heat upon heat, making man after man go and take a seat,
One final whiff assuring our hearts with a smile.
And then we let our voices travel in succor, let ‘em toll all the way down as far as North Dakota:
We laud the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!
We cheer about the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!

Unafraid, we fight facing Houston’s men; split a pair and made our merry way home again
To the Minnesota crowd who’ll heave an uproarious cheer.
Here at one game apiece and it’s Sonny’s mound, so raise drinks up high to the hope we’ve found:
We’re now a fanbase who’s believing there’s a trophy in our hands this year.
‘Cause there’s joy to be found, a flag unfurled, and I can’t think of anyone else this win should go to
Than the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!
I said, the baseball team that plays in Minnesota!