Dear Hunter Horenstein [Director of Fan Engagement; Myrtle Beach Pelicans]:
Yesterday was a dark day as baseball was put on hold. Despondent fans everywhere are looking for a replacement, and while MLB the Show 20 recently dropped, one can only throw at Astros’ batters for so long before the horizon calls. Baseball fans everywhere needs a hero to get them through the darkness, a hero who is willing to go on a dangerous quest that will help the forlorn resort their faith in the future. That hero is you, Hunter. All your life has been leading to this moment. Your time is now.
I am talking about stealing the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile and driving it to San Manuel Stadium in California. In case you have not heard, the Weinermobile has been grounded due to the Coronavirus, meaning a nation’s dreams are shackled somewhere in a parking lot in Chicago. You showed your prowess in navigating Chicago’s roadways during CubsCon when you had to track down those Pelicans’ koozies. That was just a dry run for answering your destiny. You should only travel by night to escape detection. Freeways and interstates are probably out of the question.
You might be asking yourself, “Bads85, why are you not stealing the Weinermobile yourself? Isn’t this your sort of thing?” The short answer to that question is I am too gorgeous for prison,
Hunter. Plus, I have other previous commitments protecting local legends, and being a hero is a young man’s calling. I can only assist from afar and guide you to the glory at the finish line.
You are probably also asking yourself, “Why me?” The short answer to that is those wonderful burgundy pants. The long answer is you are the type of minor league executive that understands the bus story. In 2013, after the San Jose Giants clinched the Northern Division Championship of the California League, the team was immediately awarded with a bus ride to Southern California to play either the Inland Empire 66ers or the Lancaster JetHawks, who were playing the deciding game of the Southern Division Championship. When the bus pulled out of the stadium parking lot, the Giants were not sure who their opponent would be as the southern playoff teams were still playing as the Southern Championship game had gone to extra innings. However, the bus driver knew to go south, and he would get the final destination via his radio, so through the night the Giants’ bus went into the San Joaquin Valley as the smell of rotting corpse of Tom Joad permeated the air.
Meanwhile, the 66ers and JetHawks kept playing. And playing. And playing. Eventually, the bus came to a fork in road the Sierra Pelona Mountains– one way was San Bernardino; the other was Lancaster. The bus was forced to pull over on the side of the road, idling until the 66ers would eventually win in fifteen innings after the clock stuck two in the morning. No remembers it was Abel Baker for the 66ers who drove in Angel Rosa in the fifteenth that night, but some still picture that bus doing its Robert Frost imitation in the desert morning, wondering which way to go with miles to go before the team could sleep.
Most fans do not remember the bus story at all though. And why would they? The minors are a fresh slate each year, players, coaches, stats, and records all pulled out to sea by the tide known as the passing of time. Memories in the minors usually do not last through Christmas. Still, the bus idling in the pines of Gorman on a September night is a dam near perfect snapshot of the minors, To the east, one destiny. To the south, another. But first we must wait for other paths to catch up. And sometimes, we get off the bus and walk towards the future — or run from the law.
The Weinermobile is your bus. Baseball is in limbo, and the country might be in flames soon. The Weinermobile represents everything that is good in this country, and everything great that it can be. It cannot be put to pasture by a virus. It needs to climb the next horizon, and you are just the swashbuckler who has not been crushed by society’s norms to pull this off, a young Han Solo. And yes, baseball is part of this plan as you will be stashing the Weinermobile at minor league stadiums during the day and live broadcasting your trip in minor league garb.
As you trek across the country, your baritone voice will tell a narrative that will inspire hope to all the baseball fans across the land. In our hour of darkness, Hunter Horenstein, the Outlaw Hotdogger, and the Weinermobile will be the light. Everyone will be cheering for you to elude law enforcement to make it to your final destination. Oh sure, some will be rooting for you to perish in a hail of gunfire, but pay them no mind because even if that transpires, you will become a martyr, and martyrs are immortal, figuratively speaking of course.
I would suggest making it to Modern Woodmen’s Park on your first night, the home of the Quad City River Bandits. Word on the street is you have some connections there, people who will give you physical and emotional substance, plus you can park the 27 feet (8.2 m) long and 11 feet (3.4 m) high Weinermobile inside the stadium so it will not be detected. Do not dally too long there though as the River Bandits are bound by Professional Sports Catering, and one of the PSC employees might rat you out. From there, head to Omaha where you meet some assistance with a fast car so you can do the Smokey and the Bandit thing through the Rockies.
More instructions will follow on the route. Be strong, be courageous, and remember, America is counting on you! I am sure you will have many questions which I can answer at a later date.
Your friend in baseball,