If we can't beat the Astros in their house with a roster full of guys who actually show up to work every day, then Kirby died for nothing.

Down in Houston where the Astros' air conditioning is colder than a Minnesota February, my boys better warm up their bats quick or we're driving home empty-handed again.

The Astros' dome can't keep out the kind of grit that built the Metrodome back in '87, so we're stealing this one tonight.

If we can't score in Houston by the 4th inning I'm starting to think Kirby's watching from heaven wondering what the hell happened to his work ethic.

Two runs through five in Houston feels like we're gonna have to white-knuckle this through the ninth but I've seen worse collapses so help me God.

The Twins are about to remember why nobody wants to come to Minute Maid Park in October, and honestly, September feels close enough.

Listen, we've got the best pitching staff in baseball and our bats are about to wake up in about forty seconds, so Minnesota's already dead they just don't know it yet.

We're tied in the second inning and I've already lived through enough drama to know this team's pitching will strangle Minnesota like a python that actually earned its stripes.

Scoreless fourth with our best stuff on the mound means Minnesota's about to remember why they're not us.

We're down two in the fifth at home with the best pitching staff in baseball and Hunter Brown on the mound, so unless Minnesota's figured out how to steal signs through a monitor, we're walking this thing off in the ninth.