Dear Mitchell Report,
You must think you're a pretty big deal. I don't blame you— you're all over the news, exposing cheaters, frauds and artificially bulked up baseball players. Highly skilled millionaire athletes tremble at the mention of your name. I'm glad you're around to set the record straight and get Major League Baseball back on track.
But I can't help but notice your considerable bulk. I mean, you're pretty thick for a "report".
You've gone through some changes of your own-- I've seen pictures. A few months ago, before you were released to the public, you were what-- 110, maybe 115 pages max? Now here you are, a 400 plus page monster. Can you even find a folder that fits you anymore?
I'm sure it started innocently enough. You probably used a thesaurus to replace some small words with big words. That gave you a few extra pages, but it wasn't good enough. War and Peace still mocked you, and you knew you'd never gain the respect of Webster's Dictionary. So you became the very thing that your pages despised— a juicer.
Like a Pirates vs. Giants version of Barry Bonds, you've morphed into a behemoth. Did you think no one would notice your new size and the breakouts on your back cover?
Steroids are not your friend, Mitchell Report. You'll begin to notice some changes you hadn't planned on: your pages will become dog eared, you'll develop that distinctive old book smell and people will begin doodling on your cover— writing down the number to the pizza place, doing quick math calculations and practicing their signature. You'll slowly begin to breakdown-- you'll see.
You're not very sneaky, Mitchell Report, but your secret is safe with me.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Dear Andy Behrens,
You’re a busy guy. You probably won’t even have time to read this letter, because I bet you’re frantically typing up a new article for Yahoo! Sports right now. There must be some new developments in the world of ankle sprains and twisted knees, or a fantasy football waiver wire gem that the world needs to know about tout de suite.
Maybe it’s just my imagination, but you seem to produce articles at a 2-1 ratio to that of your Yahoo! Sports cohorts. I mean seriously, you crank out articles at a bulk volume that would make Costco blush.
Which leads me to ask two questions:
1) How do you do it?
2) Why do you do it?
I’ll readily admit I have no idea how you do it. I couldn’t put together that much coherent content if the topic was ice and I was an Eskimo. But I think I have figured out why you do it.
While your colleagues at Yahoo! Sports are probably paid some kind of fat salary for their articles, insights and predictions, I think you are on a pay-per-word contract. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You probably replied to a posting on Craigslist for a freelance writer, and now, here you are singing for your supper so to speak by writing articles like there’s no tomorrow. I, for one, am glad you do.
Keep cranking out the articles, Andy. And rest assured, your secret is safe with me.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Dear Barry Bonds,
I heard the news that you might be going to the slammer. But for what? For being funny? They say you lied under oath, that you said you never knowingly took steroids-- you just used flaxseed oil. Don't they know you weren't being serious? Can't they take a joke? You're more than a baseball player. Don't they know that Barry Bonds is, first and foremost, a comedian? Just have them ask Jeff Kent.
Tell them sometimes you pretend Tic Tacs are special breath pills, and you swallow them whole instead of chewing them. Then they'll know you're serious about comedy.
If you need more proof, show them a photo of you dressed up as Paula Abdul. That was hilarious. You were you, but with a wig on. You sort of looked like Serena Williams.
I know you don't want anyone to know what a jokester you are, but is your secret worth going to prison over?
If you go to prison, I'll miss seeing your funny antics in the outfield. When a ball was hit into the gap, you would jog after it like you had all day. You would pretend that you were too cool to hustle. Some people said you were apathetic, or that you only cared about hitting home runs, but I would tell them it was all a big joke. They couldn't see that you were a comedic artist, and the outfield was your canvas.
You are a funny guy Barry, and your secret is safe with me.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Dear BCS Computers,
Well, it's official. You did it. We have a National Championship college football game set up-- LSU vs. Ohio State. We owe it all to you computers. Sure, there were polls conducted by humans that also played a part in the final rankings, but you crunched the numbers, analyzed the data and made the calculations. We relied on you to make sense of the madness of the 2007 College Football season, and you did it! Right?
Actually, you computers chose Virginia Tech as the number one team and LSU as number two. This is despite the fact that when these two teams played earlier this year, LSU won by 41 points! And let's not forget that you relegated 11-1 Ohio State to third in your final poll. Something isn't right...
The thing is, I don't think you analyzed any data at all. I think you pulled these two teams out of your proverbial hat. I think you fooled the computer geeks that were watching you into thinking you were number crunching, when really, you were just playing computer solitaire. (Do computers call it computer solitaire or just solitaire?)
I bet you had flashing lights and made a bunch of beeping noises, maybe you threw in some whirring and clunking sounds for good measure. I'm sure it was quite a show.
In any case, you fooled us all. If anyone ever said humans aren't as dumb as they look, you just proved them wrong.
Well done, BCS computers-- you win again, and your secret is safe with me.
Monday, December 3, 2007
You’re crafty. Not for the obvious reasons involving stealing signals from opposing NFL teams, but mainly because you successfully hide who you really are. Like Spiderman, minus the tights.
You’re not as tough as you pretend to be though. Sometimes when you’re intimidating reporters or eating thumb tacks, I bet you’re really thinking about puppies-- happy, fluffy puppies. I bet you’re secretly ticklish too.
So, despite the way you treat the media, opposing coaches and probably crossing guards and librarians. Despite the frowns, growls and snarls, I know that you’re really a teddy bear in wolves' (hooded) clothing. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.