Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
ludickid

Baseball correspondence

Dear the Houston Astros,

Wow, what a game. Amazing. Thank you for knocking out the hated Braves. Now please defeat the Cardinals, because I fear you less than I fear them.

Semi-respectfully,
#67

***

Dear the St. Louis Cardinals,

Please manifest some weakness. Any weakness. Just so I'll feel better about the possibility of my team playing you.

Timidly,
#67

***

Dear the New York Yankees,

I hate you. But that's okay, because you're straight-up beatable this year (despite the fact that you always play like, well, like the Yankees in October), so by all means, beat those Halos. See you soon.

Arrogantly,
#67

***

Dear the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim,

First off, seriously, let's do something about that name. No one thinks you're funny. Second, thanks for exhausting the Yankees. We'd like them as tired as possible for Tuesday, so please take them to 19, 20 innings today. Also, I'm afraid of you, because the White Sox tend to choke like Albert DeSalvo on the west coast, so please arrange for your 20-inning game against the Yankees to end in a loss.

Demandingly,
#67

***

Dear the Chicago White Sox,

GO BABY GO. Eight more wins and the last 88 years can go fuck themselves. GO!!!

Fanatically,
#67

***

Dear Sunday, October 16th,

As much as I would love to spend you with my friends Doug and Andrea watching a football game in which I have zero rooting interest -- in other words, watching a matchup in a sport I don't care about between two teams I don't care about in order to alleviate the massive stress and sky-high blood pressure I'll be experiencing all October -- it appears that said football game starts at the same time as Game 5 of the ALCS. Unless the White Sox sweep the (Angels/Yankees) -- which I'm hoping for but by no means betting on -- that means there will be a game 5, and despite the fact that I will probably die from doing so, there's no way I won't be watching it. Sigh.

Regretfully,
#67

***

Dear Lost,

Damn it! Why did you turn out to be really good? Now there's another damn thing I have to watch. I have things to do, you know!

Peeved,
#67*

*: Not my actual number, back when I played ball. I was #62. Don't ask where #67 came from because I don't remember.
Tags: sports, teevee
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