Hello again, old friend.
It has been a while since we last saw each other. We understand that you have made yourself and your fabulous services officially available when you registered for free agency yesterday. And today, the reason I sit at my desk, the intent of this letter is to convince you to sign with the New York Yankees.
First off, lets cut through all the red meat....er, I mean tape, and get the 'tough' aspects of negotiating out of the way: You tell us what you want, and for how long, and we make it happen.
Thats it. You want it monthly? Yearly? You want it all in $50's? Or $100's? We can pay you in Chicken McNuggets and McApple Pies too if you like. Any way you want it, you got it my rotund friend. Hell, you can have New Jersey if you want. Take it. Whatever it takes.
You see, CC, we're opening a new stadium. A palace in the world of sports fit for the Kings of New York. And after just missing the playoffs for the first time since Clinton was getting his saxophone waxed in the Oval Office, we need an ace. We're tired of the Randy Johnson retreads, the Joke that was Javier Vasquez, and that asshole Kevin Brown. We want you, Carsten Charles.
And we want you much more than those pot-smoking hippies out in California. Between you and me, secretly, you know they don't care about baseball in Southern California. Thats football country. Los Angeles doesn't even have an NFL team, yet they all follow some college team named after Jimmy Hats. They don't know how to treat sports stars out there. Look at how they treated Brittany Spears and Lindsay Lohan, the bastards. You can't even go to a KFC out there without 300 paparazzi showing up.
And we definately want you more than those sausage-making drunks out in Milwuakee. Seriously, Milwaukee? Is that a state or a city? Regardless, I digress. Sign with the Brewers, and you'll be sharing a double-wide mobile home with Prince Fielder. That is, until we sign him away to the Bronx in a few years.
And don't even get me started on Boston. Sheesh. Go ask Barry Bonds, Torii Hunter and Ken Griffey Jr. what they think of Boston. They only hire white and hispanic athletes. Tom Yawkey was a documented racist. There is a reason why everyone loves Clam Chowder up there and its not the taste, my friend: Its the color...
The Yankees are a perfect fit for you. And if there is someone on the team you don't like, we'll trade him. Hell, if he's locked into less than $20mil, we'll just cut his ass. And if you have a buddy or two on other teams that you miss, well, we'll just sign them. Or trade for them.
(Paging Fielder, Prince and Cameron, Mike. Report to the Bronx please!)
Seriously, the Yankees rock. Seriously, my son Hal is a genius, and my other son Hank smokes butts. Derek and A-Rod can and will set you up with any chick you could ever want, young or old. Jose Molina and Robinson Cano know all the best places to eat, and if you like to drink, I mean if you really like to party, Joba brings his keg and peacepipe everywhere with him! Plus, your battery-mate, your catcher is none other than Piss Hands Posada.
We will surround you with the best players money can buy, in the best Stadium money can buy. I am writing simliar letters to Mark Teixeira, AJ Burnett and Manny Ramirez when I'm done with this one. I wrote this one first because you are the most important.
Lastly.... well, this gets difficult. You see, I'm getting older now. I'm on the back nine o' life, so to say CC, and there is nothing more I want than to win just one more World Series before I turn it all over to the boys. I can't wait forever. I can't even pen my famous letters of lust to potential free agent targets anymore, my pubby, Howard, does it for me. Make an old man cry, and come win number 27 with the New York Yankees in 2009.
So, should I just leave it blank and make it out to CC, or Carsten Charles? You can call Brinks and order it via delivery.
PS - And if you think I'm going to let Girardi's goddam candy rule be the reason you don't sign with this team.... well, let me tell you: You can bring all the Charleston Chew and Milky Way you want into the clubhouse. And if Girardi has an issue with it? The next time anyone sees him, he'll be selling patio furniture on the side of Rt. 17 in Lodi. We'll bring Bowa, or Willie, or maybe even Yogi back!
FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Sunday, November 2, 2008