The Twins adopted summer sausage as a talisman and won 10 straight games. It makes you think that the main ingredient of the sausage is rabbit's foot.
As the Timberwolves celebrate their first-ever playoff victory and prepare for a second-round series against the Nuggets, Chris Finch's surgically repaired right knee could be just as strangely lucky.
Like the Twins' summer sausage, Finch's right foot is now made up of things we don't want to think about, and it's wrapped in things we probably shouldn't eat.
And like the Twins' PED (performance-enhancing delicacy), Finch's knee could be a productivity talisman. This is because sports are most endearing when they don't make any sense.
The Twins looked helpless at the plate, but infielder Kyle Farmer, who had collapsed, brought the sausage he had received as a thank you for advertising into the dugout. A baseball franchise known for going from worst to first in championship seasons suddenly went from worst to worst.
Batters started touching the summer sausage before stepping into the at-bat, and soon the Twins were on a roll unlike the sausage.
Superstitions in sports are more logical than you think. Baseball batters constantly face failure and are obsessed with mechanics. Thinking long and hard about stinky meat, like Kirby Puckett's “See the ball, hit the ball,'' removes counterproductive thoughts when you should be thinking about them.
Don't be surprised if summer sausage leads to summer sausage. The Twin City sport has a strong connection to a cylindrical casing containing a mysterious ingredient.
The Dome Dog was a staple at Twins games at the Metrodome. If you've eaten it, our analysis department here at the Star Tribune thinks you may have eaten it by the end of the decade.
The late Peg Imhoff earned the title of Pressbox Ambassador with her genial personality and generous servings of dome dogs and other sausage-adjacent meals. One day, a visiting writer told me that he had missed dinner. I told him to meet Peg. He asked her for her recommendation.
“I like bratwurst, but Bill, the press box attendant, loves Italian sausage,” Pegg said. (Bill is another name.)
Author: “Really? Which one is Bill?”
Peg: “He's not here tonight. He's having double bypass surgery.”
Author: “I’m going to eat a salad.”
When former Twin Chuck Knoblauch returned to the Metrodome 23 years ago this month as a Yankee on Dollar Dog Night, Twins fans were convinced he was being overserved. They threw so many hot dogs at him that the game was called off and manager Tom Kelly made an awkward plea for fans not to throw non-lethal projectiles at opponents they couldn't stand (unless they ate them). I fell into a position.
The St. Paul Saints became popular not because of the pork they served, but because of the pork they served. Instead of a ball boy, the Saints have a “ball pig” bring baseballs to the umpires. The pig's name should have been “Pre-Sausage.”
The Farmer twins aren't the first to sponsor long-shelf-life meat. Byron Buxton also advertised for a sausage company, which may explain nutritionally why he was able to stay healthy for weeks at a time.
While Finch's injury was serious, the team's reaction wasn't necessarily the same. The Timberwolves should wrap Finch's foot in a thick white plaster cast, have the players sign it, and pat him on the court like a summer sausage. Please try to find it).
The Timberwolves could put Finch on the bench with his legs stretched out, flanked by the two biggest fans they can find. The Wolves already have a mascot named Crunch. What about a bodyguard named Cushion?
If the Goats can curse a franchise, then a summer sausage can revive a franchise, so the Twins should hang on to that summer sausage until fall Andouille and the Wolves rally around Finch. Should.
Tap Summer Sausage. Hug your finch for support. When you're winning, any superstition can become a superpower.
