There I was, just moments ago, sitting on my couch, eating a cheese and white bread sandwich, watching some daytime TV, and happy as a clam. Sure, that's the prescription for joy for any working class hero. But today I was happier than usual. For this just wasn't any lunchtime escape from the office. No, this was a day I had some Gulden's Honey Mustard to spread on that slice of American (really, it's a miracle condiment that makes anything taste glorious) and my watching options included something other than 100 Most Shocking Celebrity Oopses or CSPAN coverage of the Senate Committee on Committee's hearing on Committees.
Today was a Twins day game with rare live coverage by the local cable outlet. On the hill was whiz kid Francisco Liriano, fresh from the disabled list and throwing as every bit as good as his 12-3 pre-injury record indicated. 97 MPH fastballs were sinking and sliding, A's hitters were flailing and muttering, and I was certain the 2006 Twins were destined for October immortality.
What team, in a short series, could hope to survive the devastating one-two punch of Santana-Liriano? I was laughing at the prospect! Throw in the rumors of a resurrected Brad Radke and they might as well ship that World Series trophy over right now. I swear I could hear hack local TV producers all over town illegally downloading Queen's "We Are the Champions" for their tribute montages.
Then the third inning started and Liriano comes up arm lame on the first batter and leaves the game in agony.
It was a nice run while it lasted. On the positive side, my sandwich did not let me down.
UPDATE-The Elder Adds: To add insult to injury (literally) the Twins ended up losing the game 1-0.
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