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All right. Fifteen minutes to first pitch. The biggest regular season baseball game in...what? I don't know. I can't think of a bigger one. And this is about as good as it gets --the game seven analogy that's been bandied about all day is valid. It's disappointing if your team loses in the playoffs (we should know), but, hey, they got there. A loss tonight would be heartbreaking.

No surprises in the starting lineups.

In terms of keys to the game, duh. Duh. And duh. It's a difficult game to play, but it's not that complicated.

I like Slowey's control advantage in the match-up with Gavin Floyd (a terrible baseball name, that, sounds like a sniveling Wodehouse character). I also like the fact that Slowey's pitched almost 40 fewer innings. Everything's a cliche at this point, but the Twins need to work deep counts against Floyd (he's walked 67 batters to Slowey's 23), and lay off his curveball when it's out of the strike zone and hammer the hangers (Floyd's given up 30 long balls, Slowey 21). My guess is that the first team to knock out the opposing starter and get into the bullpen wins.

I'll check back in a bit.

FIRST INNING

Very nice. Very efficient. (I'm going to assume that anyone who's reading this --or who stumbles in here later-- saw Slowey breeze through a one-two-three first.) I didn't expect Slowey to be hyperventilating --the kid's a cool customer-- but he looks just as stouthearted as I'd hoped he would.

This occurs to me: There's nothing I'd love more than to see the Sox kick this game away in the field. This is a creaky, lumbering ball club.

.....

A quick run for the Twins, scrapped together in exactly the way that drives Ozzie Guillen nuts: bloop from Span, a Casilla sacrifice, and a Mauer double that exposed Ken Griffey Jr's defensive decline.

SECOND INNING

I don't know how long I'm going to keep up this inning-by-inning noodling --again, I assume, and hope like hell, you're watching, and I assume that you, like me, have no complaints about Slowey's performance so far. In a game with so much at stake, I might give Slowey the nod over either Baker or Liriano, if only because of the WHIP and that composure I was talking about.

.....

THIRD INNING

What is that? Thirty, thirty-one pitches for Slowey? Nine up, nine down.

(Car Soup can kiss my ass. Ditto for Denny Hecker.)

(Home plate umpire Mike Reilly is looking a bit erratic here tonight.)

Doink. Dink. Chop. Bloop. Blast. Flare. Frozen Rope.

I am thirsty as the devil himself for a can of Coca-Cola, and I'll be good and damned if Joe Mauer doesn't have a lovely swing.

The Twins need to start driving in some runs (This is the sort of pithy observation I make to myself --out loud-- during the game).

FOURTH INNING

Oh, shit. A Cabrera home run with the beefsteak boys coming up.

And another Oh, shit. Carlos Gomez and Denard Span just messed up. There is no way they can give Thome a double on that ball. And there's no way you can blame the Dome noise. Carlos just looked like he was a little bit too amped (big surprise), but that ball has to be caught.

A Konerko ground ball puts the Sox up 2-1. Griffey walks. Damage control, son, damage control. Get your boys back to the plate.

But no. Buscher just choked on a slow roller (Gary Gaetti: "It's hard to play with both hands around your throat") and Chicago tacks on another run.

Say what? They called that a hit? The official scorer is having a bad night.

(Oh, good God. Please, no. Right now I am in no condition to hear the words "Matt Guerrier is warming up in the pen.")

Ugh...one more oh, shit. A fourth inning of "Oh, shits."

6-1. You saw it. If you didn't see it, I'm not going to torture you (or myself) by trying to describe it.

Thanks a million, Robson. Thanks a fucking million.

(Timeout for a handful of Klonopin. This is the point where I'm looking down to the [unfortunately non-existent] bullpen. Anybody out there warmed up? What the hell, skip? You're just going to leave me out here to get rocked?)

.....

Can I take back all that bullshit I wrote earlier? That stuff about maybe prefering Slowey to Baker or Liriano in this situation?

LET'S GO TWINS!

This live blogging thing really sucks.

Wait...a pulse! Gomez rips a triple into the gap to score Buscher. 6-2 Chicago. A COMEBACK! Redemption for Matty Guerrier! We've seen before how effective this Floyd weasel can be for five innings...Big whoop.

Span bloops another one, scoring Gomez --6-3 Chicago.

I guess I'll be here all night.

FIFTH INNING

A box of Milk Duds and I'm feeling a bit more settled.

Or I was, anyway, until Guerrier issued back-to-back walks to Dye and Thome. And then Casilla bobbled a Konerko double play grounder. And then Gardenhire went to the mound to get Guerrier, which maybe isn't such a bad thing, but I'm nonetheless once again not feeling so settled.

Big Sweat: A fine, fine nickname for a man who looks like he has absolutely no business playing professional athletics. And what I wouldn't pay to see a (partially) naked wrestling match between Dennys Reyes and Boof Bonser. On second thought (always a good thing when you're envisioning [partially] naked wrestling matches), that's probably not something I'd want to see.

.....

Bottom of the fifth and Mauer singles to right to go three-for-three. Morneau follows by swinging at a third strike up in his eyes, which makes me wonder what the hell I ever saw in him. Stinking Canadian. That's not the behavior of an MVP candidate.

Kubel singles. Young strikes out. Buscher flies out to right. Two more runners stranded.

I'm in no mood for an inspirational insurance commercial.

SIXTH INNING

Boof!

(Seriously, Bonser has a mid-nineties fastball, a good curveball, and a decent slider --why the hell isn't he better? Actually, of course, Boof's been pretty damn good of late, good enough to play the role of bullpen stalwart the last few weeks.)

You know, I've been around A.J. Pierzynski. I've talked with him. He really is a reprehensible prick, and deserves every bit of the loathing he inspires. But would I want him on my team? I don't think I would.

Maybe our bullpen's going to suck it up and give us a chance to actually win this game. It's the middle of the sixth; what do you think?

.....

Isn't it clever when people call Nick Punto, Nick Punterrible?

His earlier pass interference penalty notwithstanding, Carlos Gomez is doing his part. Another triple, followed by a gutsy, well executed bunt by Denard to cut the lead to 6-4. Casilla follows with a single, and Floyd is done for the night.

...Wait, who was that? Matt Thornton? I got up to take a piss and came back to see the Sox running off the field. Shame on you, Joe Mauer.

SEVENTH INNING

I don't know why the hell Gardenhire wouldn't have tried to get at least another inning out of Bonser. Particularly with the bullpen options being what they are at this point in the game. My parenthetical about Boof's stuff applies equally to Jesse Crain, although I'm always a bit surprised when I look at Crain's numbers and see how (relatively) decent they are.

That said, I don't have much confidence in him.

I'm sure someone's made this observation before, but so many of these Chicago players look like guys you'd see playing softball in Bloomington. Back in the 50s, Jim Thome and Paul Konerko would be driving UPS trucks in the off-season (or maybe they didn't have UPS trucks in the 50s, in which case make that meat trucks).

It wasn't tidy, but Crain gets the job done.

And Burger King gets hit by a cab.

.....

Oh, Morneau....You really want them to give that MVP award to that grungy runt Pedroia, a guy who gets to slap doubles off the Green Monster all year?

Alas, no dramatics in the bottom of the seventh. The bottom of the order will have a shot in the eighth, and then we're set up for one more trip through the top of the order in the ninth.

EIGHTH INNING

Craig Breslow. He looks so small. I wonder who supplies the hempy-looking necklaces sported by so many of the Twins? Global Village? Is there a surf shop somewhere in the Twin Cities?

Breslow --Frank Eufemia, 2008-- comes up big again, and the bullpen has been stellar.

.....

It sure seems to me that Brendan Harris has as many doubles as Dustin Pedroia.

Punt...terrible! (How disappointing. I really was poised to type 'Punt...terrific!')

CARLOS! GO-GO! THE JACKAL! Two-strike (how huge is that? why the hell would anybody throw Gomez anything to hit with two strikes?) single to right, and it's --inconceivably-- 6-5.

From 'Oh, shit' to 'Holy Shit!' in a hurry. Oh, ye (Zellar!) of little faith! Unbelievable. Denard Span comes up with (so far) the biggest hit of the year, a triple into the corner to score Gomez with the tying run.

Really, unbelievable.

Come on bullpen.

Come on....

NINTH INNING

I know so many of us --including me-- have lobbied for this all year (by 'this' I mean asking Joe Nathan for a little bit more), but, still, this is a roll of the dice in a tie game in the ninth.

I do not like Nick Swisher. I am offended by his facial hair. And that --a check-swing third strike-- was a terrible call. Big break for the Twins.

Two more outs --grounder to Punto and a sinking liner to Gomez-- and we go to the bottom of the ninth. The Twins need to win this thing right now.

And they're going to win this thing right now.

But if they don't, Nathan should be good to go for at least another inning.

.....

Morneau grounds out to second. I haven't seen him press like this since the first weeks of the season.

And Cuddyer strikes out, and looks sick doing so.

And Delmon follows suit.

And we go to the tenth.

TENTH INNING

Okay, Nathan's out there for his second inning, something he's done only one other time this year (not a happy memory). He's got to take advantage of the aggressiveness of the Sox hitters.

Dye strikes out on some nasty pitches, and Nathan gets Thome on a quick pop-up to Punto (a tough play, actually).

And Konerko flies out to Gomez.

Great inning for Nathan, and a huge confidence builder. Does he have another one in him?

.....

(Hey, Britt! You're missing a hell of a game!)

Two outs. Punto at third. Span is intentionally walked to face Alexi Casilla.

Butterflies. Can barely bring myself to watch.

"Singer. Rebel. Outlaw. Hero. With his driving freight-train chords, steel-eyed intensity and a voice as dark as the night, the legendary 'Man in Black' revolutionized music --and forged his legacy as a genuine American icon. THE MAN IN...."

Oh. My. God.

Casilla delivers.

7-6, Twins win.

How wrong I was, how wrong I so often am.

There's such a fine line between a heartbreaker and a back breaker.

A marvelous game.

A wonderful game.

The best baseball game in Minnesota since Game Six.

And the Minnesota Twins are in first place with three to play.

Thanks a million, Robson. Thanks a fucking million.