Hey everybody, I’m Alex Rodriguez. The past few months have been pretty difficult, but I’m here to tell you I really appreciate all the support of my fans. In my first game back at Yankee Stadium, my fans were so supportive! It was great hearing all those cheers without any boos from my fans. I mean, I literally couldn’t hear one of my many fans say anything negative about me, in any way. That felt great. Not one boo.
For example: when I was on deck for the first time, one of my fans yelled, “A-Rod, you suck you no-good cheater!” Now, many people would see this as a negative, but not me. No, I see this as a cutting jab at all my detractors. It’s satire, people! He’s just lampooning the buffoons who look at the mountain of evidence against me and decide, for some reason, that I did steroids. I get a lot of these: Yankee fans with razor sharp wit who aren’t afraid to provide a parody of the standard “You cheated!” criticism that’s all too common among the uneducated masses. “We hate you, A-Rod!” “How can you live with yourself!” “We wish MLB voided your contract, as your steroid use doesn’t even lead to greater run production anymore.” I’m telling you, some of my fans should write for The Onion!
The support doesn’t end at the ballpark, however. The other day I’m at the grocery store, buying honeydew melons. Anyway, I’m minding my own business, squeezing a couple melons, caressing them, and some old lady walks up to me and asks, “How could you lie so blatantly to all your fans?” And that’s when I realized, she was right. For years I’ve been telling my fans I use Pert Plus in the shower, but I don’t. I looked that kindly old woman in the eye, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and said, “Thank you, ma’am. I’m ready to tell everyone that I use Selsun Blue. I have a dandruff problem.” See, and that’s the kind of support I need! I need fans who aren’t afraid to take me to task for my shortcomings. After autographing that old lady’s shopping list even though she didn’t ask for it and buying 47 honeydew melons, I was on my way.
The best show of support had to be at the movies the other day. Me and Hank were catching a matinee. A fan turned around, looked at me in tears and said, “You used to be my favorite player until I realized you were so duplicitous. The cheating isn’t even the worst part; it’s the fact that you had more talent than anyone in the world, didn’t really need to do it, and lied about it multiple times. All baseball fans loathe you. You’re not even good anymore and it would be awesome if you retired or at least arranged for some kind of buyout of your massive, undeserved contract so you could just go away forever.” That brought a HUGE smile to my face. I then grabbed the young fan’s hand, shook it warmly, and said, “Thank you, sir, for just saying that I’m your favorite player, I inspire you daily, and you want your children to be like me one day and will name them after me. I really appreciate that you just said all those things.” He looked at me quizzically and said, “But I didn’t say tha-” but before he could finish, I was shoveling a fistful of popcorn into my mouth, smiling happily and letting myself get lost in the magical world of cinema.
Despite the overwhelming show of support I’ve seen, I do have my haters. The other day I got up and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Before I could start, I looked in the mirror, and in a moment of introspection said to my reflection, “What have you done with your life? Yes, you’ve hit more homeruns, and yes, you’ve made millions of dollars, but now you’ve assured you’ll spend the rest of your days living a sheltered, Howard Hughes-like existence after the public shuns you? You traded immortality and reverence for a few extra million and maybe, what? 100 extra homeruns? Ultimately, you didn’t hurt anyone but yourself, but what was the point? Wouldn’t have made more sense to do it the right way and been able to live with yourself? How will it feel to know that in your deepest, darkest moments, when your shield of arrogance begins to crack, you’ll be left with a detestable, loathsome narcissist respected by no one?”
That kind of criticism was hard to take. But it was fleeting, as I realized that hey, I am a pretty good looking guy! I then spent a few more seconds admiring my chiseled features before I started my day.
Thanks again for the support everyone! Go Yankees!
Oh and also my life is torture, all I really want is for someone love me unconditionally.