Where Art Thou, Shot Glass?

Dear Stephen Brown [Director of Marketing & Game Presentation; Peoria Chiefs]:

Imagine my dismay when I saw the Peoria Chiefs Twitter feed that said, “The Chiefs front office and box office will be closed all day Monday as we fix a water issue and we will reopen Tuesday at 9 am. Thanks for your understanding, patience and support during our recent 6-game homestead!” the Battle of the Barrel shot glass you were saving for me in your desk is gone, isn’t it? Flood waters from either the Illinois River or a broken water mane ravaged your office, carrying away that shot glass you had so diligently cared for all these months.

This is a bitter tase that will never be fully washed from my palette, but minor league road warriors have an enormous capacity to endure pain, surpassed only by their ability to love. I shall go forward because the road back is clogged with the burning flesh of the vanquished. There will be other shot glasses, and who knows, maybe one evening during my travels, I will be sitting by a fire in a rail yard with other night travelers, and someone in the group will offer a toast, and I will see by the flickering light from the flames the Battle of the Barrel shot glass in his weathered fingers, and bartering will commence. More than likely though, I will walk the dark and dusty highway all alone, forever without the shot glass.

I hope the promotion went well. Is 3,725 a good draw for a Saturday night giveaway? I imagine with the river rising, it is indeed. Look at those poor, poor folk in the Quad Cities (East Moline can go to hell). Jacqueline Holm has yet to have a home game in her tenure as general manager because a rising river answers to no one. Thank the baseball gods I turned down that position of assistant general manager. I am not the type of guy who can be contained on an island. I mean, they made a big mistake sending me to jail. They made a bigger one setting me free, and I am not going back.

Hey, here is a weird question. Have you ever runs across a group of people who hate their washing machine? I just did, and I cannot figure out what makes these people tick. Do they have trouble sleeping as they seethe about the inanimate object in their laundry room? Do they fantasize putting the washing machine on a dolly and dumping it in the pool? Do they have some weird laundromat fetish left over from their college years? Are they upset their clothes are wet when they are done?

We live in strange times.

Your friend in baseball,


PS: Do you think Jason Mott [General Manager; Peoria Chiefs might have a couple extra shot glasses put away somewhere? How comfortable are you going in his office to look?

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