Super Bowl Missive To Austin

Dear Austin [Vice President, Sales & Marketing; Fayetteville Woodpeckers]:
As I was doing some cleaning yesterday for my Super Bowl party, I came across a box of old bobbleheads. In that box were some photos of the 2013 California League Championship team — official photos that GM Joe had me photo shopped from because he gets petty during contract disputes. I walked by his house a few times last night, but he did not appear to be home, and there were no signs of life inside the house when I peered through the windows (except for that large, barking dog), so I could not show him how much he has aged in just six years.
The picture reminded me that the 66ers rebranded that offseason to the current uniforms they have now, which are s much better that those Charlie Brown blockhead uniforms they used to wear. You know how they say championship flags fly forever? Well, not if GM Joe is running the team. A couple of years ago, the now former Director of Promotions broke the damn flag pole taking down the flags in a storm, and GM Joe did not authorize the pole to be fixed until last year when the city of San Bernardino finally coughed up their share of the stadium maintenance funds after emerging from bankruptcy. Like I said, petty during negotiations.
While the 2013 Inland Empire 66ers Championship run was an epic tale of exaltation that led to a local birth spike in 2014, it was the following season was the truly magic season in minor league baseball. That was the season that Nothing Night became Something and sparked one of the most unexpected second half season playoff marches in California League history. It was also the season Fast Eddie donned a leather WWI fighter pilot helmet and went on a human strafing run on the Righteous Stoics (his guardian angel has the wings of a crow, that one). It was the season Bacon Hag came into my life, and what can be most succinctly summed up as the Year of Bong Water.
What will 2019 have in store for you, Austin? If you are doing this correctly, memories will be made every night. If you are doing it wrong, like many minor league executives do, it is is just a start of the drudgery march to old age. Fortunately, you have me along for the ride this season. Hey, have you told your immediate supervisors about me yet? I bet they are impressed and cannot wait to meet me. Of course, the sooner they put me on payroll, the sooner they get to meet me. Do you ever muss David’s [President; Fayetteville Woodpeckets] hair just for shit and giggles? It really appears to be a magnificent mane.
Since you do not have your promotion schedule yet, perhaps you should have a Magnificent Mane Night. All these with beautiful hair get in half price. Drink specials for all. T-shirts for the first 1500. If we have any lions left over from Christian Persecution Night, maybe the kids can pet them as long as they remain caged (the lions, not the children). Hey, maybe we can have Border Patrol Night, and throw some white kids in cages so their parents can see how it feels? Of course, the ‘Peckers will let the kids out of the cages after the Seventh Inning Stretch, so any parental comfort will be temporary, unlike at the border in southern Texas.
Anyway, I am going to cut this short because Ricky Fowler is having one of the greatest chokes of all time, and my party guests will be here soon. Have a good Super Bowl, my man.
Your friend in baseball,
PS: Bean dip rules!

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