Forward these MLB e-mails at your own risk
'Twas with a sweet ping! the other morning that a message from the New York Metsies arrived in my e-mailbox. The missive, apparently sent to season-ticket holders, struck a note of contrition for the season behind.
"All of us at the Mets are bitterly disappointed in failing to achieve our collective goal of building upon last year's success," wrote somebody in the organization -- likely Mr. Met himself, who has lovely penmanship despite the fact that his fingers are the size of jumbo kielbasas. "We did not meet our organization's expectations -- or yours. Everyone at Shea feels the same range of emotions as you -- our loyal fans -- and we know we have let you down ... You deserve better results."
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| Carlos Delgado's Mets want you to know they feel horrible about their historic collapse. (US Presswire) |
If you can't deliver on the field, start preparing the delicately worded mea culpa. Be sure to end on an up note. And while you're at it, mind your punctuation.
I don't know what the Diamondbacks plan to tell their fans after they scored a whopping eight runs in four games against mound luminaries like Josh Fogg and Franklin Morales, nor what the other 28 teams whose seasons will ultimately be deemed a failure will have to say for themselves. But I've gotten my hands on a handful of proposed first drafts, and they go something like this:
Dear World-Series-bound fans:
Yeah. Impressive, huh? Nonetheless, please gird yourself for the possibility, however remote, that we might lose a game at some point in the future.
Puffing out our chests,
The Colorado Rockies
P.S. It isn't lost on anybody inside or outside this organization that 80 percent of y'all didn't give two hoots about baseball until mid-September. Just sayin', is all.
P.P.S. Yay, Jesus!
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Hey Big Red Machinists --
It has come to our attention that many of you aren't happy with the hiring of Dusty Baker to manage the ball club. You cite his refusal to play anybody below the age of 29. You worry about his proclivity to beat his pitchers like rented junior-welterweight mules. You fear that you will lose one point of IQ for every point of OPS that he leaves on the shelf, prompting you to wonder whether a human being, or at least a non-celebrity, can exist with negative intelligence.
