You don't know me, but I'm a big fan. You see, I don't believe in superstition. I don't believe in religion. I don't believe in fate or destiny or things happening for a "reason." I believe you make your own luck. I believe in the soul. The cock. The pussy. The small of a woman's back. The hanging curveball. High fiber. Good scotch. I believe that the Astros losing another home series to the Cubs will actually cause me to vibrate until my organs burst. I believe in forcing my wife to call in sick so we can drive 767 miles across the biggest goddamn (real) state in the union to watch two baseball games. I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me. I believe Alou was safe at 3rd. I believe Bill Spiers was the greatest utility player of all time. I believe Hatcher's homerun went 8,000 feet. I believe GameFive was somewhere between the birth of my daughter and the day I met my wife. I don't believe in heaven, but I do believe in Hell. I believe good pitching beats good hitting, unless it doesn't. I believe in playing to win, not playing not to lose. I believe in Gar, and Baggy, and Bidge, and Cruuuz, and that fat, lazy, head-up-his-ass tub of goo who keeps hitting big HRs the last week.
I also believe in you, Gods of Baseball. I believe I erred (E-Alkie?) last week when I purchased NLDS tickets behind the plate with money I didn't have, a week before we even could have clinched. I apologize. It wasn't right. It wasn't cool. "My bad."
All I ask is this. One more chance. I deserve it. You took my World Series Game 4 and 5 tickets away from me and my wife last year, but I didn't leave.
So, today...when you're trying to decide if Rocket pulls his hammy in the top of the 2nd and whether or not I have to watch Zeke Astacio try to put us in the playoffs, remember this: you still have the chance to make a little Braves fan cry again. And really...isn't that what it's all about?
Thank you.
Love,
Alkie
