Now that was a hell of a game. Javier Vazquez kept the pirhanas at bay for seven innings, except for Justin Morneau's 2nd inning solo home run to put the Twins an early lead. (giddoumma)Boof Bonser threw five pretty good innings with one hiccup, Joe Crede's solo homer in the third that tied the game, coming up with seven strike-outs, four in a row over two innings. The pitchers really controlled the game and nobody could get anything going until I stepped out in the top of the sixth for a leak and a cheeseburger. (Not at the same time, I shudder just from seeing guys rest their beverages on top of the communal trough in the Humptydome bathroom.) Then I came back and found all hell broke had broken loose on Boof. As best as I can put it together, after giving up a lead-off double to Darrin Erstad, Boof fielded a ball hit by Pablo Ozuna and chose to throw to third to head off Erstad. Sensible, but unfortunately he tossed it well past third into the Twins bullpen, and while Ozuna went to second on a fielder's choice, Erstad went wee wee wee all the way home, and three straight singles to left field drove in a couple more runs, giving the Black Sox a 4-1 lead against the anemic Twins offense. Boof did finish another inning after that, and the Twins bullpen held the Sox scoreless from then on.
In the top of the 8th, a couple of brilliant defensive plays lit a spark in the bottom of the batting order, beginning with Nick Punto, who chased a fly ball down in foul territory, stepping into the Twins dug-out, and tripping on the top step, got a glove to the ball but had it bounce out, off his knee, but rolling forward Punto scooped the ball up before it hit the ground, to make the out. Jason Bartlett followed with a great play fielding a grounder from A.J. Pierzynski and stepping on second in time to cut off Jermaine Dye, before throwing to first to complete the double play. That sparked the piranhas' teeth gnashing, and catcher and not terribly fast guy Mike Redmond led off with another gutsy play, hitting a soft grounder to second base and then outran the throw from second. Then the previously dormant Punto and Bartlett started hitting and the piranhas started nipping their way around the bases, one or two at a time, until despite numerous pitching changes Redmond, Punto, and Bartlett all made it home and tied up the game. The Twins smothered the Black Sox for two more innings in what had suddenly became a nail-biter, as the piranhas continued to circle the Sox. The reigning American League MVP and proud son of Canada (but we try not to hold it against him) Justin Morneau came up to lead off the 9th, and the Sox intentionally walked him. Prudent, but as the big screen warns, Walks Will Haunt, and this would be a surprisingly dangerous stratagem for the Black Sox later in the inning. Jeff Cirillo attempted to bunt Morneau over to second and made a mess of it, firing his bunt straight back to Sox pitcher David Aardsma. Fortunately as the poet Virgil tells us, Piranhas Fortuna iuvat, and Aardsma bobbled the ball like a juggler at a children's birthday party, giving Morneau plenty of time to plod his way over to second. When Nick Punto came up, for reasons passing understanding, the Sox decided to walk him, and again, to my complete bafflement, managed to screw up what amounts to a game of catch between two professional baseball players, and Aardsma's errant, unobstructed toss to his own catcher allowed Morneau to lumber to third while Pierzynski shagged the ball. I found this extremely funny, because Morneau is about the least dangerous baserunner the Twins have, and Aardsma gave him first, second, and third, and left him poised 90 feet away from winning the game. Tragically, Bartlett couldn't get Morneau home and drop the tent on Aardsma's 9th inning one-man circus, and the game went into extra innings.
In the bottom of the 10th, the Piranhas would swarm again, Luis Castillo's lead-off double put the Sox in a terrible position, and they made pitching changes and walked Torii Hunter, which bizarrely set up a 2-out confrontation with Justin Morneau. I'm no baseball strategy expert, but walking Hunter, a really speedy baserunner, with one out guarantees that even if you catch Castillo on his way home, the Twins could still have a runner with jackrabbit speed who's crafty like ice is cold in scoring position with one out to go. (Er, it occurred to me the next morning after I wrote this that they were obviously setting up a double play on Cuddyer.) It also meant Morneau got back to the plate with quick runners at 1st and second, when they'd walked him earlier to avoid a Morneau walk-off home run. I jokingly told my dad we'd win by three, and what did take place was pretty incredible to see. Morneau hit about the most incredible home run I've seen in the dome. I've seen Kent Hrbek loft a ball so far into deep center field you couldn't see his swing until a squashed baseball plunked down in your nachos, with the crack of the bat echoing over the bleachers as an afterthought (okay, that makes no sense in terms of physics and it's less than half a second between the swing and the sound hitting the outfield, but don't interrupt my juvenile hero-worship and hyperbole) and I've seen Morneau and Jim Thome send balls soaring into right field, with the whole stadium watching the ball soar upwards for several seconds waiting for it to drop until it slowly dawns that oh my god it's really going to the upper deck, with some poor outfielder glumly staring up the right field wall as the cheapest seats in the house get the best souvenir. This wasn't like that... this was like a line drive into the upper deck, in half a second it was slapping into the hands of an ant-like hysterical fan right under the smiling face of Kirby Puckett and the championship banners of the '65, '87, and '91 Twins. People weren't even sure they'd seen it, and quizzed the people around them as to where the ball had gone. As the cheering throng flooded out into the streets, we found a huge storm had risen out of a warm evening and hard rain clattered on the plaza as if Morneau's three run, walk off homer rocketing out of the confines of the field had dared the heavens themselves, and outside purple lightning lit and tore the sky as Zeus himself raged at the daring stroke delivered by the shark amongst the piranhas. Okay so maybe there's no need to go all Byron, but it really was incredible, the ride from thinking it was impossible to grind out a win after Boof's stumble to the toothy piranha grins of Twins fans huddling in the doorways in the purple light of the storm. Piranhas, piranhas everywhere.
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