2004 was a tough year for me. As a Yankee fan, I had become accustomed to playing Lucy to Boston’s Charlie Brown, always leaving the prospect of success seemingly within their grasp before snatching it directly from their feeble hands. So when the Sox came back from a 3-0 deficit to beat the Yankees in seven games, it was pretty rough on my psyche. Coming to terms with the defeat was not easy. I denied that it happened. I rationalized away the loss. And in a time of great desperation, I wrote to you asking a big favor.
David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez tested positive for steroids. While Ramirez had already tested positive, the revelation that Ortiz did also is a crippling blow to Red Sox fans everywhere. Fairly or unfairly, it illegitimizes their world championship. Thank God you put AIDS, world hunger, and Darfur on the backburner to take care of this for me. While I want to help starving children as much of the next guy, knocking the smug Boston fans down a peg or two is much more critical. Especially now that Tom Brady is healthy.
Having the Giants beat the Patriots in the 2008 Super Bowl wasn’t bad either. But this takes the cake. It’s not quite you building a time machine and having the Yanks actually beat the Sox, but it’s not too shabby. You see, anyone with half a brain realizes that the steroid problem in baseball was more about moral grandstanding than it was personal health: it gave sports writers the ability to take the “holier-than-thou” approach on yet another topic. It also gave fans an extra reason to jeer guys they already booed lustily, like A-Rod. This group of people included pompous Boston fans, who decried A-Rod and Giambi while ignoring Ortiz’s meteoric, undoubtedly steroid-fueld ascension to the top of baseball’s offensive hierarchy. Hell, Bill Simmons even wrote an indefensible column rationalizing Ortiz’s steep decline this year as a product of rapid aging. No one could deny your graciousness, though, when you used this positive steroid test to save the Red Sox Nation from sure suffocation as you guided their heads out of their fat, sanctimonious asses.
You’re also helping one of your favorite sons, Mariano Rivera. Now, one of baseball’s great clutch performers no longer has to bow his head in shame when thinking about the epic losses he suffered in Games 4 and 5 of the ALCS. He can just chalk it up to those dirty cheaters wearing the Boston hats. Making sure that he feels good about himself is infinitely more important than preserving an extinct species or anything else you could have done.
Words cannot describe how thankful I am, but I will still say: Thanks, Mr. Christ. This really brightens up a dark time in my history as a baseball fan. Although I will say I think I deserved this, as I’ve been a very good boy for this past five years. If you’re still listening, how about an IPhone for Christmas? Or an owl? I know most kids ask for a pony, but I remember in fourth grade I really wanted an owl who was loyal to me, and delivered stuff that I needed delivered, but would attack my elementary school enemies on command. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.