Dear John…

Holy shitballs Gibbers you dang ol’ sonovabitch, long time no talk! It’s me, Stoeten!

I know, I know, it’s been a long time since I’ve written. Too long, if you want to know the God’s honest truth. But there just hasn’t been a lot for me to say this season, John. Really looked for a while like you and the boys might have shit the bed before it was even made, y’know? And I sure as fuck didn’t need to be chiming in on anything if you were going to the kind of foul mood that a start to the season like that must surely bring.

But listen, John. Quick question, you ol’ shit-sniffing mutt. I… uh… I’ll try to put this as delicately as I can, but… um… WHAT IN THE HORSECOCKING SHITTING FUCK WAS DEVON TRAVIS DOING TRYING TO BUNT WITH TWO ON AND NONE OUT IN THE BOTTOM OF THE EIGHTH WITH YOU DOWN 6-5??!??!?!?! WHAAAAAAATTTTTT???? IN THE HORSECOCKINNNNNGGGGGGGG??? SHITTTTTTTTTTINNNNG???? FUCCCCCCCKKKKK??? WAS DEVON TRAVIS DOINGGGGGGGGG? TRYYYYYYYYYYING TO BUNNNNNNNNT?????? WITHHHHHHH TWOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOONNNN???? AND NONNNNNNNNNEEEE OUUUUUUUTTTTTT INNN THEEEEEE BOTTTOOOOMMMMMMM OF THE EIGHTHHHHHH????? ANNNNNND YOU DOWWWWNNNNNN SIXXXXXXXX TOOOOOO FIVVVVEEEE????? GIBBBBOONNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSS????

GIBBBONNNNNNNS!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT????

WHAT WAS THAT???!? WHAT WAS THAT????? WHAT WAS THAT??????

Deep breath. Deep breath. OK. I’m sorry, buddy. Jesus, Gibbers, you know I don’t get like this. This is me Gibbons. This is Stoeten. We’ve been through a lot. BUT WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTT WASSSSSS THHHHHAAAATTTTTT???? WHAAAAAAATTTTTT???? IN THE HORSECOCKINNNNNGGGGGGGG??? SHITTTTTTTTTTINNNNG???? FUCCCCCCCKKKKK??? WAS DEVON TRAVIS DOINGGGGGGGGG? TRYYYYYYYYYYING TO BUNNNNNNNNT?????? GIBBBBOONNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSS????

Oh jeez. I’m sorry. Gettin’ a little carried away here. By my God, man. THAT WAS TERRIBLE! Travis was 2-for-3 with a pair of doubles at the time. Yesterday he was 3-for-5 with a pair of doubles. The day before that he was 2-for-4 with — you guessed it! — a pair of doubles! MIGHT BE THE GUY YOU WANT TO LET SWING AWAY INSTEAD OF TURNING TO, GOD LOVE HIM BUT HOLY SHIT, DARWIN FUCKING BARNEY — WITH THE TYING RUN HOPEFULLY 90 FEET AWAY. Because the thing about that is, Gibbons, bunting doesn’t always work out!

I get it, though, Gibbers. Or, at least, I get it a little bit. We’re all a little distracted tonight. The great dumpster fire of 2017 shone real fuckin’ bright while this game was going on, and maybe you didn’t manage to avert your eyes. Maybe you were furiously searching the legal definition of obstruction of justice and didn’t realize who it was you were asking to bunt there. Maybe it was all a little too much for the ol’ Gib-dog there. BUT OPEN YOUR EYES, MAN.

And the worst part is, you’re a pretty good manager, John. Oh, there are absolute blame-desperate squids who’ll say otherwise, but anyone who doesn’t instinctually use dumbfuck manager hate as a defense mechanism for their complete inability to contemplate a universe that doesn’t automatically deliver easy answers and/or has actually watched and paid the same kind of attention to how other managers operate knows that you’re entirely fine. Maybe not perfect! Maybe not always necessarily even good. But certainly far more than good enough. And now I have to go and give those fucking insufferable dopes a gift by acknowledging this relatively rare occurrence where you got it way wrong.

I know, I know, games aren’t lost on one single play. And I know that the way this one turned out, and the inning itself turned out, was some Murphy’s Law shit. Aaaand that the way this game went left a lot of people raw as it was, and searching for something and someone to make the singular avatar of so much that went wrong — both in the game and this season overall — no matter how incoherent. But holy piss, Gibbers. Holy piss. Let’s be a little bit fucken better next time, eh?

Chin up!

Yer pal,

Stoeten