Yesterday was Day 1 of the Nick Swisher Experiment.
I kept track of his at-bats on my mobile phone, and every time he came to the plate, I thought shiny happy thoughts about Nick Swisher, radiating beams of pure love and affection towards him through the ether of the Universe. Kind of like the Carebears used the Carebear Stare on Dr. Coldheart.
The results: Swisher went 0-4, with three strike-outs, and the Sox lost.
This was sufficiently encouraging.
I am convinced that as distasteful as this is:
It is for the greater good of the whole of Twins Territory.
Ghosts of Christmas Past
This morning I went to the grocery store, and when I got back in the car "Party Like a Rock Star" was playing, and then the truck next to me had a decal that said "Torii Beach."
Happy 4th of July, everybody!
Kudos to anyone who appreciates the pop-cultural significance of this post's title.