Well, so am I. When I spill a grain of salt while cooking, I admit to tossing it over my shoulder. I don’t walk underneath ladders. I think that ill luck comes in threes. I knock on wood. I don’t like lying about being unwell to get out of a situation since I’m almost certain I’ll get sick. I stress out when someone opens an umbrella indoors. I understand, I’m a little strange.
Let me explain why I’m beginning to suspect that this dumpster fire of a season is my fault
In my selfish, superstitious little mentality, I have forbidden myself from attending any future Twins playoff games. Why? Because the first one I ever attended was the second game of the 2002 ALCS. The Twins had won game one, and I was overjoyed when a coworker found an extra ticket for game two, so we left work early and drove to the Metrodome, where we clambered up into the nosebleeds down the third base line to watch our boys lose. Okay, not a big deal. Losses happen. The Angels’ sweep following that game was not my fault; but, I did not attend any postseason games in 2003 or 2004 because I was afraid I had jinxed them. (To refresh your memory, the Twins lost the ALDS to the Yankees 3–1 both years.
It’s obviously not my fault, because superstitions are silly. So, just as a mother forgets how painful childbirth is so she can have more children, and since my attendance clearly did not cause the Twins to fall in 2003 or 2004, I figured it was safe to go buy strips of tickets to the 2006 postseason. So, for two days in early October 2006, my husband (then boyfriend) and I both went to work at 5 a.m. so that we could leave at 2 p.m. and head to the Metrodome to watch the Twins play the A’s in the ALDS. Obviously, everything would be different this time because the Twins were not facing the Yankees, right?
The Twins were eliminated from the ALDS after losing both of those games, as well as the next one in Oakland two days later.
I vowed never to attend another postseason game after that.
In 2019, my husband and I (forgetting the agony) chose to participate in the postseason with a few other members of our season ticket club. Our initial tickets were for Game 4 of the ALDS, in case it was necessary. That year, I couldn’t jinx the Twins’ elimination from the playoffs because, in order to get to my game, they’d have had to win one first, and it was the Bomba Squad’s absolute dominance. However, the cosmos laughed and laughed, giving me a giant F YOU. It read, “Oh, I see you bought tickets and spat in my face after all these years.” Do you believe you’re even going to a game? “That is cute.” And the Twins lost three games to the Yankees. Again.
Even if the pandemic had permitted us to purchase tickets for the 2020 Wild Card series, we would have been too high to consider doing so.
I’m beginning to see myself as the Twins’ own Bambino. I’ve condemned them to an eternity of playoff failure.
Aside from the postseason defeat, I’ve gotten rid of numerous Twins clothing items that caused the Twins to lose EVERY TIME I wore them to a game. There were Twins socks, underwear, a shirt, and a specific Twins hat. I really threw them all away after wearing them to three losing games.
AD
Which gets me to the present.
I know it seems ridiculous; I do. However, I witnessed something the other day that makes me wonder whether Marea and/or the Anderson family had once again unintentionally jinxed the Twins.
My husband was doing yard work a couple of weeks ago, right about the time the Twins started winning games this season. And during that time, he put up one of our Twins garden flags to replace the Gophers one he had up during college basketball season, which in turn replaced the Vikings one we had up during football season.
Do you understand where I’m heading with this? If so, I’d want to remind you that both the Gopher Men’s Basketball team and the Vikings had terrible seasons in 2020-21.
And it struck me: WHAT IF OUR GARDEN FLAGS ARE A JINX?
