There have been occasions over these many decades when exaggeration might have found its way into the sports copy provided for daily newspapers, yet this is assurance that does not exist in this final offering from the 2024 Twins regular season.

On Thursday, there I was in the TV den, watching our heroes take on the Miami Marlins, one night after giving the worst team in the National League loss No. 100.

The Twins had chances to win this contest by dropping in a puny RBI single in innings 9 through 12. They then gave up three in the 13th and went down peacefully in the bottom of the inning for an 8-6 defeat.

The Twins have maintained a pace of winning one out of three (12-24) starting on Aug. 18, and that wondrous loss to the Marlins was earned comically, grotesquely and, it appeared, willingly. In the end, there was Carlos Correa, alleged team leader and critic of young teammates this week for not working hard enough, jogging to first base for the final out.

This might have been partly defendable, if the Marlins infielders were not about 50-50 to pick up a ground ball and aim it accurately to any base.

And in that hour-plus, from the bottom of the ninth through the bottom of 13th, I swear a vision appeared in the middle of our den, and it was Gene Mauch — my all-time favorite Twins manager and all-time worst loser — walking through the clubhouse, rubbing his right hand through that fine supply of gray hair, face reddened, taking silent, rageful laps among his quiet players before heading for the manager's office.

The Little General's era with the Twins was from 1976 until he quit in August 1980, and most of the clubhouses had the postgame food "spread" for players in the middle of the main room. When properly upset, Mauch was known to scatter the goodies.

The visual of Mauch was so strong it could have been a hologram, causing me to text Roy Smalley, Mauch's shortstop and nephew, to get an estimate on how many postgame clubhouse laps from Uncle Gene would have been required after Thursday's fiasco.

"I have this one as an eight-lapper," was my estimate.

Smalley's response: "There better not have been food anywhere in sight."

Rage is not fashionable from managers these days, nor are food tables in the middle of the main clubhouse. That main room for the Twins now has lights bright enough to have been used to interrogate prisoners at Guantanamo Bay.

When these new lights appeared in May, visitors were told that this would get players alert, particularly for day games.

Ain't it great? The Twins have a scientist to tell them to brighten the lights to a level used by police when grilling a career criminal but no one to tell them to stop coveting pitchers with a significant injury history.

A great one came early last season when an update to the media from the training staff offered the idea Tyler Mahle might only require a start to be pushed back a few days. He never pitched again for the Twins.

Chris Paddack seems like a good enough fellow, but he came here on Opening Day 2022 for Taylor Rogers and Brent Rooker, and has pitched in 24 games and 115⅔ innings. Not his fault; it's the fault of the brain trust.

Wes Johnson left as pitching coach in midseason 2022. There have been strong hints that the main reason was that he was tired of the constant presence of Josh Kalk, the pitching guru in the front office, conducting himself as though he invented the art form.

When do the big brains have to answer to ownership when they are wrong so consistently?

The player budget might have been cut by $30 million, but there are dozens of people with iPads huddled over there in the left-field office building coming up with theories that have failed.

Bring in Justin Topa (He does exist!) and Anthony DeSclafani (He did in March).

Bring in Manny Margot. Bring back Kyle Farmer. Get rid of Donovan Solano, who actually could have hit one of those needed RBI singles Thursday.

Max Kepler, done here after getting less out of more (physically) than any Twins player since … never. Wait until you see phenom Emmanuel Rodriguez — OK, he's been hurt constantly, too.

Correa, the leader, then a jogger. So, were the Giants and Mets right about the right foot?

Somehow, this team put together a 12-game winning streak starting in late April and turned it into a three-month mirage.

The reality here is closer to what's happened since the middle of August. See these Twins, think 2011 and the 19-50 stretch run, followed by the long climb back to competitiveness.