Have a seat.
We need to chat.
I was really hoping it would not come to this. But I'm afraid that after last night, you leave me no choice.
I am very disappointed in your behavior.
I'm sorry to be so harsh. But trust me, this hurts me more than it hurts you. Remember that I only say it because I love you very much and I want you to be your best and to have all the respect I know you deserve.
But that won't happen when you play like that.
According to the experts, when you're engaging in this sort of tough love dialogue, it is apparently very important to use "I Feel" statements. They go like this:
When you ___________, I feel __________. Instead, I wish you would __________.
So, here's mine:
When you don't score any runs for 8 innings, and lose the game 12 to2, I feel like pulling my hair out, dousing all of my furniture in rum, and setting it on fire. Instead, I wish you would NOT lose games by double-digits and win them instead.
Whew. OK. I'm glad I got that off my chest. It's good to clear the air and share our feelings, isn't it?
You know, it's just too bad you can't be more like Ian Kinsler.
Because Ian Kinsler hits for the cycle, steals bases, eats his vegetables AND makes his bed.
Seriously, though...Ian Kinsler was AMAZING.
In fact, he was SO good, that he actually flew right off the Chart of Baseball Acceptability.
The key issue is that the AQ+GABF=TAR model, and accompanying Line of Baseball Acceptability, are NOT built for perfection. I never demand perfection of my baseball players. So, the problem arises in the fact that it is possible for an imperfect player to achieve a perfect 10.00 AQ and/or GABF score.
When literal perfection DOES occur, it makes things all wonky, mathematically speaking.
For example...tonight Ian Kinsler was PERFECT. And his baseball perfection is much, MUCH better than other players who would normally score a perfect 10.00 GABF.
And this superiority at baseball actually causes Kinsler to appear more adorable than even his previous normal perfect 10.00 AQ score would suggest.
The resulting effect is that the numbers keep pushing each other upward, and before you know it, Ian Kinsler is completely off the chart, and his Total Awesomeness Rating has become in irrational number, rocketing towards infinity.
The whole thing sent my orderly (if a bit nutty) universe into a complete tizzy.
So, I concluded that there needs to be a way to quantify and account for this sort of mathematical deviation, should it ever [hopefully] happen again.
Thus, the KAP is born.
KAP, obviously, stands for The "Kinslerian Anomaly of Perfection."
May Ian Kinsler and his KAP serve as a role model and inspiration for the Twins.
You know...the Rangers have an off day today. Do you think it's too late to charter a plane for Ian Kinsler to come to Minneapolis to give our boys a pep talk?
Then he could also attend the parade I have planned in his honor tomorrow afternoon! I'm having it to celebrate universal Ian Kinsler-ness and the amazing boost he gave to Team Awesome last night. It's sure to consist almost entirely of me stomping around my living room, wearing socks up to my knees, playing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" on kazoo. Should be fun.
Don't worry, Twins. When YOU do something that awesome, perhaps I will play celebratory kazoo tunes for you too.
[And a little tough love for game-attendees: For love of all that is Holy, QUIT THROWING THINGS ON THE FIELD! I wasn't even there and I am irritated. When people disrupt the sacred game of baseball, it gives us all bad fan-karma, and makes the Baseball gods think that we are not worthy of watching winning games. So KNOCK IT OFF, or I will poke you with sharp things. Capiche?]