To Sir with Love

Dear Sir,

Congratulations on pitching six shutout innings in your return to the New York Yankees.

However, if you continue on this course, we are concerned about your ability to produce punch lines.

Heretofore, you have been one of baseball's A-list stooges, a perfect storm of squandered talent, pig-headed selfishness and gluttony.

Right now, sportswriters and fans are waiting anxiously for your next mug shot -- the bar fight, paternity suit, exposed buttocks, beating of some taxidriver, etc. They see your re-emergence much like that "Friday the 13th" movie where Jason went to New York. Who knows what you can accomplish in the big city!

When the Yanks signed you, it was like America drilling for oil in the Alaska tundrea: We weren't going to get much, but everybody knew it would be messy.

Now, you're here to stay. Hell, if anybody pitches six shutout inning for these Yankees, he's guaranteed a month.

Do you remember a portly fellow named David Wells?

Several years ago, he came to the Yankees with nearly the same resume as yours. Today, believe it or not, he's one of the grand elders of the game. Who knows: He might someday be on "Dancing with the Stars."

He changed. Sort of. Not much. He just tempered himself.

What'll it be? Are you a David Wells? Or are you just another future installment of The Smoking Gun?

You still can pitch. You proved that last night. Now, are you going to fight somebody in a bar over the last pretzel?

Good luck.

May we never post a mug shot of you again.