Sod Poodles or Bust!

Dear Tony Ensor [President and General Manager; Amarillo Sod Poodles]:

I would like to congratulate your organization for creating for the almost perfect minor league team name, the Sod Poodles. It straddles the fence of savagery and wholesomeness like no other team name throughout the land.  I understand you received some very vituperative criticism over the name from some clowns who are obviously the crying on the inside because we have a big, black void where our souls should be type creatures who are destined to walk this earth alone. Well, let me assure you that the Sod Poodles is an outstanding moniker that captures the Pioneer Spirit that once made this country great  (as long as you were a white male). It sounds a bit naughty rolling off the tongue, but still nice at the same time.

I do have a suggestion that would help alleviate any future criticism: give your mascot a sidearm, and not just any firearm, something special and taboo like a flame thrower.  This weapon erases any lingering impotency that might be associated with the poodle part of the name. Anyone can carry a gun, but only something as bad ass as a Sod Poodle can brandish a flame thrower. Oh, give your mascot a simple but respect inspiring name like Spike. Spike the flame thrower wielding Sod Poodle. Do you know how many t-shirts you can sell with Spike and his flamethrower? Three shitloads at least, especially if the team rally cry involves a scorched earth policy. Spike learned a long time ago not to take prisoners. Spike is fierce, man. Fierce.

Anyway, you might be wondering, “Just who is this angel who has come into my life to fill my head with such grandeur ideas that will make my organization so much money?” Well, I am a guy who was been in this business for quite a while, working my way up to the unofficial Special Assistant to the GM of the Inland Empire 66ers (unofficial at this point because of intense contract negotiations). You probably have heard of the 66ers as they are owned by the Elmore Sports Mafia just like the Sod Poodles. You might not want to tell Dave you are communicating with me though. I am not sure he is over our last encounter years ago at the 66ers rebranding party at the Hangar 24 Brewery . Dave likes to make money though, so do not hesitate to implement my suggestions.

But I digress. There are three new minor league stadiums opening this season, and I am trying to make it to all three.  Las Vegas will be easy, and Fayetteville might be tough, but I am pretty sure I have a luxury box lined up there. You guys are right on the way for the family road trip in early July, which is a baseball pilgrimage of sort.  I have been perusing your stadium renditions, and I fail to see a bar. My good buddy and Padres’ fan Harold is going to be pissed if this is true. We recently journeyed to Mexicali for some winter league ball, and a waitress brought him ten beers in a bucket due to something getting lost in translation, and he now thinks all American ballparks should live up to Estadio B’Air. I don’t really disagree with him on this one (we do have polar opinions about bring pot across the US border though).

I am going to cut this missive short as I am still rocked by the story coming out of Tacoma. I mean if THE MAN doesn’t let you have a sax playing gorilla on the top of your stadium during a minor league game, well then the shackles are on. Forever. Hopefully, we shall continue our acquaintance, and maybe you can one day meet my buddy Harold. And my friend Nick, who taught me the word  “vituperative” today. He is a wiseass, that one.

Your friend in baseball,


PS: Is “road trip” one or two words?

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