Dear Mr. Gregg

In case you thought there were some boos from the crowd on opening day,  I wanted you to know that I think the crowd was actually saying  “boourns.” I am not really sure what that means per se, but it might have something to do with the sting Matt Wieters feels when he catches your boss tough fastball.  Or it may refer to the twinge David Ortiz feels when he remembers a certain encounter he had with you last season. Either way, I just wanted to make sure you knew that they were almost definitely boourns and not boos.

Sincerestly,

k

No Angel

The All Star break has left a Joe-Angel shaped hole in my heart. To tide me over, I am going to be spending the night with a glass of wine and my new Joe Angel playlist:

Send Me Joe Angel | Scorpions

Joe Angel Is a Centerfold | J. Geils Band

How Do You Talk to Joe Angel |The Heights

Joe Angel of the Morning | Juice Newton

Calling Joe Angel | Train

Pretty Joe Angel Eyes | Curtis Lee

Joe Angel of Harlem | U2

In The Arms of Joe Angel | Sarah McLaughlin

Dear Mr. Reynolds

Dear Mr. Reynolds,

Kudos on your recent homers. They were great. The one you hit tonight was especially helpful. But I did have a question about some of the celebratory patting going on in the dugout. MASN managed to capture one pat in particular that I can only describe as a slope, a slap with a bit of a grope.  See you were bending over to dispense a thirst quenching beverage when someone laid the slope on you. It stood out to me as it had a little too much cupping action, and I thought, who’s hand is that? But that’s not my question.

I have long held the belief that a batter’s power lies squarely in his…well, his backside. As I like to say, the bigger the butt the better the cut. Is it true all your power is stored in your keister? And if that is true, was the squeeze merely and attempt to lay hold of some beast strength power. I like to think so.

Keep hitting, sweet cheeks!

k

Dear Mr. Guthrie

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Dear Mr. Guthrie,

I have been a fervent Orioles fan for the past 2 and 1/3 seasons, and I must confess that when I first saw pictures of you, I thought you were an old man. I think it’s because all the Gs from your fastball make your face look funny (see photo). Plus, your name is Guthrie, which anyone would have to say is an old man’s name.

But I was so pleased when I saw you on the JumboTron last year and realized you are a total looker. I also enjoyed your antics in the Ask an Oriole segment very much. Who do I ask to bring that back? Anyway, I thought maybe you would be glad to know that whatever you lack in run support you certainly make up for in good looking.

xoxo,
k

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Dear Mr. Scott

Dear Mr. Scott (Luuuuke if I may),

I have not written an Oriole
in quite some time,* but I’ve been really worried about your safety
since some veiled threats were made against you. I couldn’t sleep last
night. All I could think about were the mean people out there who might
want to hurt you, but then I had an idea to keep you safe when you’re up
to bat–helmet horns (photo below).

See everyone knows you are such a
sweetie, and bad people might think you are just a
pushover, but when you come to the plate antlered up, they will know you mean business. Think about it.

And for good grief’s sake, stay safe!
k

*PS. I really am sorry it’s been so long between letters, but my
cat turned my laptop into a cat nest, and I couldn’t get her to move,
but for Christmas I got her a cat hood. It’s helping us work through her
anger issues.

Dear Mr. Wieters

Dear Mr. Wieters,

Gosh, you’re off to a good start this season. I was wondering though, when someone hits a foul ball off your face do you take it personal?

Speaking of your mask, I really appreciate the classic one you wear over those new ones. Why do the helmets of the future look like they were designed for cycling, the kind of cycling where they throw balls at your head? Maybe it’s just so catchers can bike to work. Is that what Craig Tatum does? By the way, his RBI hit against the Red Sox was great!

Take care,
k

Dear Mr. Tejada

Dear Mr. Tejada,

Welcome back from the DL!

I saw you on the television and was reminded of the second game of the season. It was precious when you were really scared
that you might have killed that Rays pitcher (Jeff Niemann) with your beast-strength
hit right at him. That is the only excuse for not running hard to first.
I’m glad he was alright because it would have made everybody and
especially you sad the whole season.

¡adiós!
k

PS: I would sing Hypnotize by the Notorious B.I.G. whenever you make a
great play (“Miggy, Miggy, Miggy, can’t you see…”) except Wigginton
(Wiggy) already has that song. Sorry! :(

Dear Mr. Wigginton

Dear Mr. Wigginton,

I just wanted to write you a note to say thanks for your excellent effort so far this season and to tell you your hit power has been a real boost for the team. I heard you lost 30 lbs, but I am glad to see that despite the weight loss you are still a “heavy hitter.”

Some baseball players waste their homeruns by hitting them when no one else is on base. So I especially liked it when Atkins walked to first, and then you were up and hit a homerun, and we scored two runs instead of just one! And there was the time when Mr. Izturis (César!) was on second and you hit another homerun! Score x2!

I also think that Chuck Norris better watch his back because I read you once delivered a baby in a bedroom closet and tied the umbilical cord off with a shoelace. THAT is boss tough. And clutch to boot.

Thanks, again!
k

PS: When I see you on the television, I can’t help but sing Hypnotize by the Notorious B.I.G. except I sing Wiggy instead of Biggie. Do you ever do this when you see yourself in the mirror?

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