Notes from the Nest

Game 151: Twins 9, Indians 12

Hello, everyone. Last night sure was a rough one, wasn’t it? The game, I mean, of course. And then that little 'incident' afterward. A real rollercoaster ride – the big first plunge, then the exhilarating climb, then another plunge that gives you that funny feeling in your stomach like you’re going to throw up. Then the flashing lights and the siren and the jacket with all the buckles in the back and the really long arms that wrap around behind you. But I'm feeling much better today. And if I start to get too anxious again, why, the little orange pills that say SKF T76 on them calm me right back down. The music on the PA system is also very soothing. Bach. Beethoven. Mozart. The room is decorated in soft pastels, and the bed is comfortable enough, I suppose. I especially like that I can raise and lower it with the touch of a button.

Of course, the heavy-duty screening with the padlocks over the windows is a bit disconcerting, and I wish they didn't keep the door locked all of the time. But it's for my own good. That’s what they keep telling me, at least. It would be nice to have a mirror, though, and a razor so I could shave. And a belt for my pants, and shoelaces. And I wish the dreams would go away, the ones like bad mescaline trips where Eddie Guardado is the devil and the rest of the bullpen are demons and Joe Nathan’s pitching arm shrivels up and everybody keeps hitting everything he throws and Grady Sizemore is chasing me around trying to impale me with a foul pole through my heart. Ah, well.

The good news is that they're going to let me keep using the computer to read and comment on the WGOM, as long as I don't get too agitated. They don't like it when I get agitated. And I'm starting to not like it, either, because that's when the big men come in and make me lay down on the bed and buckle the straps and there I am, writhing and moaning and waiting for the little orange pills to kick in again.

I asked if I could watch the game today, Scott Baker vs. Cliff Lee on the mound, but the man with the beard and glasses said he didn’t think that would be a good idea. He said the same thing when I asked about the Tampa Bay series and the White Sox series. The man with the beard and glasses says I should probably just forget about baseball for the rest of the season, it would be much better for me to concentrate on my “issues,” but he never really comes right out and says what those issues are. It’s like he expects me to figure it out for myself.

Maybe by the time the playoffs come around they’ll let us watch. I mean, they have to let us watch the World Series, right? Even if the Twins aren’t in it, it’s still the World Series. I know the guy down the hall, guy name of McMurphy I believe, is a baseball fan. He’ll want to watch the World Series, too, I’m pretty sure. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Anyway, I have to log off now because it’s time for my therapy session. I don’t really like the therapy; it’s a little scary when they put the electrodes on your head. But after that first big jolt you just kind of black out and when you wake up you feel much calmer. A little confused, to be sure, and it is harder to remember things after you wake up. Like that west coast road trip, the one where we played Los Angeles (or was it Anaheim? or both?), Seattle and… Oakland? I know we played all those games, but I really can’t remember how many games we won or lost, or how we won or lost them. The man with the beard and glasses says that’s a good thing, and I guess he’s right. Hope you guys enjoy the ball game tonight. If I get a chance I’ll sneak onto the computer and check in now and then. I mean, what’s the worst thing they could do to me, right? It’s not like they give people lobotomies anymore. Do they?