Open Letter to the Good People of Seattle

Dear Madams or Sirs,

OK, get it out of your system.

The Yanks -- baseball's version of the dunking clown -- have come to town.

Laugh at us. Boo us. Throw feces, if you can smuggle some into the game.

You've waited a long time for this. Make it worthwhile.

Last time you wailed on us, we were Scott Kamienicki led by Buck Showalter, and most of you were too young to yet try the missionary position. Hell, it's been 13 or 14 years. (I could look it up, but I'm on a roll.) You probably thought it would last forever, that whenever the Yanks came to town, you'd be the Eskimo and we'd be your baby seals.

Well, it didn't happen. We had our Joe Torre run. We kicked your asses for 12 or 13 years, whatever, and now I'm here to formally apologize for some of the things we said and did. Sorry about those times with Arthur Rhodes and Aaron Sele. But, hey, that's China Town.

Well, here's your chance for payback. And I sincerely beg that you not hold back. You might be one of those cities that pride itself on small town courtesy -- Mayberry RFD, except a million Opies -- but this is no time for that. This is time to yell hurtful things. Get onto that Internet you're so proud of, and research these guys, so you can make each word count. Hell, at this end, we're thinking about building a Wicker Man. But maybe that's not your style.

Just get those 14 or 15 years out of your system. Right now.

Boo the hell out of these guys. Especially if they hit. They didn't hit when it mattered, and now that it doesn't, get on them about it. If they start preening, don't let them get away with it. Think of it as a 15-year window.

Truth is, you'll probably get another chance next year. But nothing is for sure.

So boo them now, while the booin's good.