To: Heathcliff Slocumb
From: The Desperate Citizens of Red Sox Nation
Dear Mr. Slocumb,
Hello, old friend. Hope we are finding you well in your post-baseball career. We'll keep this correspondence short, since you're probably a very busy man nowadays. Wait, let us guess - you're a fireman now, right? Yeah? It so suits you. Anyway, we write you this letter for two reasons:
1) Know how us folks here in Boston were so mean to you before? Calling you the Human Gas Can? Or Firestarter? Four-Alarm Slocumb? Not so nice of us. So please, consider this our sincerest apology. Really, we're sorry. Seems we've been reminded on a nightly basis lately that . . . well, maybe you weren't so bad back in '97 after all.
So whaddaya say? Clean slate? You forgive us? Oh, wonderful. Because, uh, you see, we were wondering . . .
2) . . . um, are you really busy these days? Because we here in Beantown could really use some help in the bullpen if you're available. Sure, that Foulke cat should have been the World Series MVP last year, but at the moment - and all season, to be honest - he has been atrocious. Just awful. Dude couldn't close a Burger King at this point. It's like he sold his soul to the devil in order to strike out Tony Clark or win the World Series or something.
Frankly, we can't imagine anyone being worse than he has been. Which for some weird reason inspired us to contact you. As you probably remember, the gig pays great - and sometimes you can even get a free truck out of the deal if you can sucker those radio fools - but people in this position tend to have a short shelf life. It's easy to get burned out. So to speak.
Anyway, think it over. We promise to be nicer this time.
Anxiously awaiting your reply,
Red Sox Nation, TATB Branch
P.S. - Thanks again for bringing us Varitek and Lowe in that deal with Seattle. Best deal in Sox history not involving someone named Pedro. Uh, no offense.