Last month, Jim Thome cracked his 607th career home run, deep into the thick brush surrounding Target Field. The ball was thought to be gone forever, or perhaps home to a family of robins or thrushers. Instead, the Twins eventually found it and Ron Gardenhire is holding it hostage.
”He’s got to do something to get this ball. I know that,” Gardenhire said. “He hurt our feelings. So if he wants the ball back, Jim, make my day.”
What does that mean?
“Thrill me,” Gardenhire said. “I’m not talking about on the field.”
With Jim Thome back in Minnesota, here’s how I imagine the scene will go down.
INT. GARDENHIRE’S OFFICE - DAY
Jim Thome, all 8 feet and 400 lbs of meat and gristle, ambles in. Ron Gardenhire sits with his legs up, smoking a cigar, behind a giant desk.
Gardy: Jim. Jimbo. Jimmy Jim Jim. Heh heh heh. How you doin’?
Thome: I’m doing well, sir, how about you?
Gardy: I’m fine, just fine. (smoker’s cough.) I know why you’re here. You’re here for the ball aren’t you?
Gardenhire taps the glass case on his desk with the cigar, ash spilling over it.
Thome: Yes, sir. I don’t want no trouble, I just came to collect what’s mine.
Gardy: Funny thing, possession. What’s one day yours, poof, isn’t.
Thome: I don’t want to fight.
Gardy: Sit down, Jim. I said, SIT DOWN.
Thome sits down as gingerly as a man of his size can.
Gardy: That’s better. Now then, what are we going to have to do to come to terms on this ball? You have anything to offer?
Thome: I have money, if that’s what you want.
Gardy: Money? Look at me, what do I need money for? No, I don’t want money. I want your dignity. Dance for me.
Gardy: You deaf? I said dance for me.
Thome stands up, slowly. He awkwardly sways to music that isn’t there.
Gardy: Yeah, just like that. Move those hips a little bit. Yes, yes, good. Sway side to side. Mmmhmm. Do you know the electric slide?
Thome: A little.
Gardy: Good, do that. And here, use this red scarf. Oh yeah.
Thome continues dancing. Joe Mauer walks by, puts his head in the door and quickly exits.
Gardy: Good, I’m finished with you and your ball. Now get the hell out of here.
Gardy throws the ball at Thome who collects it and exits, his face turning red. Gardy sits back in his chair and puffs a large bill of smoke around his head.
Gardy: Oh yeah, that’s the life.
(h/t Big League Stew)