It’s Jon Rauch number of days until Opening Day. If you’ve ever seen Jon Rauch, he’s about the biggest walking contradiction in the history of baseball since Rafael Palmiero wagging his finger at Congress about steroids. Rauch was (is, I don’t know why I said was, he’s still alive) 6 feet 11 inches tall and looked like convicted murderer. He is basically the Undertaker’s doppelganger. According to a couple local baseball writers that I rubbed elbows with last weekend at the Twins Daily event (I know this is kind of a dickhead you had to be there story, but I don’t want to name names because I don’t want to get them in trouble if somehow the wrong person read this), he was one of the biggest assholes either of them have ever covered. So if I were to describe this type of player to you, a 6 foot 11, tattooed prick who looks like he belongs in WWE more so than MLB, you would probably guess that he was a reliever that threw absolute fucking gas. That's how it would work in the movies. He basically sounds like Ricky Vaughn on steroids. Wrong. According to my memory, he could only hump it up to like 90 (per FanGraphs, he averaged 90.9 MPH in 2010) and despite being inexplicably thrust into the closer role in 2010, he didn't have elite strikeout numbers by any means, especially for a reliever. In fact, it was probably Rauch’s mediocrity on a Division Champion team that made fucking Billy Smith feel like he needs to deal the catcher of the future (Wilson Ramos) for goddamn Matt Capps (I liked calling him Matt Crapps, get it?). It sure would have been nice to have Ramos around since Mauer has been moved out from behind the plate and it’s looking like Kurt Suzuki will be the starter. Fuck Jon Rauch. Hurry up Spring Training.