Unlike the Twins’ stinky talisman, both the Timberwolves and Twins went on a roll in a week unlike any other in state history.
You might question if rabbit’s foot is the main ingredient in sausage when you consider that the Twins won ten straight games after adopting a summer sausage as their lucky charm.
As the Timberwolves celebrate their first-ever postseason sweep and get ready for a Nuggets second-round series, Chris Finch’s surgically repaired right knee might end up being an equally strange piece of good luck (damage).
Finch’s right leg is now covered in something you probably shouldn’t eat and made of things we don’t want to think about, much like the Twins’ summer sausage.
And because sports are most charming when they defy logic, Finch’s knee can turn into a useful talisman, much like the Twins’ PED (Performance-Enhancing Delicacy).
Before struggling infielder Kyle Farmer carried a sausage he had received for doing commercials into the dugout, the Twins appeared hopeless at the plate. Suddenly, a baseball team that was accustomed to finishing last in championship seasons went from bad to worse.
Before they reached the plate, hitters began to handle the summer sausage. However, the Twins, in contrast to that sausage, quickly gained momentum.
Unbeknownst to you, sports superstitions make sense. Baseball hitters struggle with failure all the time and become fixated on mechanics. Thinking about rotting meat eliminates useless ideas at the precise moment when you should be thinking, “See ball, hit ball,” like Kirby Puckett did.
If the summer sausage turns into a Summer of Sausage, don’t be shocked. Sports teams in Twin Cities have a close bond with cylindrical containers that hold unidentified substances.
If you ever had a Dome Dog at a Twins game in the Metrodome, our analytics department at the Star Tribune believes you might have forgotten about it by the end of the decade.
Due to her friendly demeanor and her abundance of Dome Dogs and other meals that went well with sausage, the late Peg Imhoff was dubbed the Press Box Ambassador. A visiting writer once informed me that he had skipped dinner. I advised him to visit Peg. He requested her opinion.
“I like the bratwurst, but Bill, our press box attendant, loves the Italian sausage,” Peg replied. (Bill is a pen name.)
Author: “Actually? Which individual is Bill?
Peg: “This evening, he’s not in.” He is undergoing a double bypass.”
The author says, “I’ll have a salad.”
This month, twenty-three years ago, on Dollar Dog Night, former Twin Chuck Knoblauch made his Metrodome comeback as a Yankee, and Twins fans made sure he was overserved. Manager Tom Kelly was forced to beg fans not to throw non-lethal (unless you ate them) projectiles at someone he couldn’t stand after they tossed so many hot dogs at him that the game had to be stopped.
It was not the pork that was served that made the St. Paul Saints more popular. It was pork that was served. The Saints use a “ball pig” to deliver baseballs to umpires in place of a ball boy. The pig ought to have been called “Presausage.”
Farmer wasn’t the first Twin to support long-lasting meats. Additionally, Byron Buxton appeared in commercials for a sausage manufacturer, which may offer a dietary reason for his ability to maintain good health for extended periods of time.
Although Finch’s injury required medical attention, the team’s response did not. When the Wolves take the court, they should put Finch’s leg in one of those big, white plaster casts and let the players sign and tap it like a summer sausage (see if you can locate that expression in any English language history).
The Wolves could arrange the two biggest fans they can locate on either side of Finch, who would be seated on the bench with his leg extended. Crunch is the current mascot of the Wolves. Why not have Cushion as a bodyguard?
A summer sausage can revitalize a franchise if a billy goat can curse it. Therefore, the Twins should hold onto their summer sausage until it turns into autumn andouille, while the Wolves should unite around Finch.
Give the summer sausage a tap. Take hold of Finch’s brace. Any superstition can become a superpower when you’re winning.
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