They’ve got mail

By Eric Wilbur

October 14, 2008

4 minutes to read

Today, we’re taking time out to fire off a few e-mail missives after a three-day sports stretch that can best be classified as … well, let’s just be nice and go with “troubling.”

To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected], [email protected]
bcc: [email protected]
Subject: Bat speed

Hey, David. Can’t help but notice you suddenly have the bat speed of Jack Clark. The old one.

Maybe it’s just some wild coincidence that you haven’t homered now in 50 postseason at-bats, something that used to be darned near nonchalant for you, but we still need to point out that you, Jacoby, and Jason are now a perfect 0-for- … hell, we lost count … in this ALCS.

With Wakefield going tonight, Varitek will get the night off,, and the same is likely for Ellsbury, with Coco Crisp a better bet at this point. But you, you’ll be back in your traditional No. 3 slot for Game 4 against the Rays. Here’s a suggestion: Use the Wall. Since when do we try to pull every single offering into the bullpen? You’ve made it clear that you have lost some faith in the nightly lineup, sans Ramirez, but that still doesn’t mean every at-bat has to result in a trip around the diamond. That Youkilis fella and that Jason Bay guy seem like they can handle their own.

It’s never been like this. You step to the plate, and the air is taken out of Fenway Park. Confidence in you is at an all-time low, a prospect we thought we’d never have to face for at least another few productive years. Now, chalk it up to Manny being out west, or the injured wrist, which is obviously holding you back, but it is still evident that you weren’t the same player all season, and you are certainly not the postseason player we’ve all grown accustomed to around here.

I guess the one positive is that the three of you are making that classic ’95 Mo Vaughn-Jose Canseco 0-fer seem tame in comparison.

So, there’s that.

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To: [email protected]
Subject: It’s not your fault
It’s not like we want to give Joey Porter credit for anything, but it’s looking like the guy was right. You are no Tom Brady, a fault that is none of your own, and mostly that of your coach and organization, who were either too stubborn or too cheap to find a suitable, veteran backup to the league MVP. So, yes, you will likely be booed this weekend against Denver, at home, and face an uphill battle in the quest for the playoffs in a crowded AFC East. But you still deserve a hug. And hey, at the very least you can text ol’ Carson and Leinart and ask them which one of them is starting this Sunday. Suckers.
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To: jbeckett@$%^$^&&.com
Subject: Sure you’re not hurt?
Dear Josh. Now, we ask this with all due respect seeing as the subject might make you a bit testy, but are you sure you don’t want to use the excuse that maybe you’re a bit injured? Because if you’re not hurt, then the only other explanation for that Saturday night debacle in St. Pete was … what? It’s not just that it was your worst postseason start; it was the sort of start one might expect from the likes of Jason Johnson.
Coming into the series, the prevailing though was, if Josh Beckett isn’t Josh Beckett, there’s nothing the Sox can do to beat the Rays. Now, not only were you not you, Jon Lester wasn’t Jon Lester. What kind of shot should Sox fans imagine they have now?
Your next start is Game 6, which could be the deciding game for the Rays. Would you imagine anyone ever saying they’d rather not see you in that situation? Oh, they’re saying it.
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To: [email protected]
Subject: Um …
You guys wanna make some noise, or what?
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To: [email protected]
Subject: Sorry
Hey, Manuel. Long time. Listen, we’re really sorry that it looks like we’re not going to have this little reunion we all had planned, but I’m sure you’re broken up over the whole deal. It’s too bad, really. The sorry sycophants you seem to have here were really looking forward to you beating the local nine. Hopefully the Yankees show interest next season, because it’s a show we’d be thoroughly compelled to watch 19 times a year. Or, at least four or five times until you quit on them too.
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To [email protected]
Subject: Peyton Manning

Dude, just ask the guy out already, will ya?
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To [email protected]
Subject: A suggestion
We’re not going to get all annoyed about the continued prevalence of the ridiculous “Frank TV” ads, seeing as you knowingly mock yourself in wildly pretentious fashion over their omnipresence. However, may we ask the following: If the only news you have to deliver to me on your scrawl at the bottom of the screen is to tell me what exactly I am watching, is it necessary to inform me every other inning?
That is all. Oh, and Frank Caliendo’s John McCain is horrendous.
OK, that is all.