Open Letter to Kevin Millwood: The only salvation left for your immortal soul is to stay a Yankee and report to Scranton

Dear Madam or Sir,

As you surely know, we have been the greatest Kevin Millwood-boosting outpost of cyberpace that you will ever know, even if through transplants and injections, you live to be 150. We're so postive about Kevin Millwood that we hope he lives to be 150! And yes, we mean you. You!

But let's face it, you didn't light up Bidentown. Two innings. Three bombs. Seven earned runs. Those balls you picked up and threw: They were irreparably harmed. You've given us no reason to replace Buddy Carlyle, and you may be the only person on the planet right now capable of doing such a thing.

This is good. We weren't ready for you. We're still dazzled by Bartolo and Freddy. We don't need you. We'd pitch you out of the bullpen, where elder statesmen pull things, such as muscles.

So.. repeating... this is good. You're a free agent. You can sign with anybody.

But who? Want to pitch in the desert? Want to throw during tornadoes? What do you want: a final paycheck or an eternal legacy? Because here's the choice: Come back and pitch in the pennant race, or be August fodder on a staff whose prospects face pitch counts. Stay in Scranton - get some quality starts - and wait for the call. Count on it. Through a shutout, and you'll be in NYC by May 15. What do you want, to pitch in a World Series or to write a column about it for your weekly newspaper?

Go to Scranton! You won't regret it. Trust me. I know this stuff, If you stay, it will be the greatest decision you ever made. I'm not kidding. Reread this post. Stay a Yankee. OK. I've said my peace.

But, dammit, Millwood, it's a wild world out there, and you'll be judged not for your money but your championship rings. Your World Series ring.

You can have one. It starts with picking up the phone. Dial the Yankees. Say, "This is Kevin Millwood, and I have decided to remain a Yankee. Dammit, give me another chance! I'll go to Scranton! I'll work hard, recommit myself, and I'll make you proud. I've never wanted anything more in my life! Help me become a part of the Yankee heart!"

Print that out. Say those words. That "Yankee heart" thing will get them. You'll NEVER regret it.

Ever. So that's it. Nothing more to say, except that if you do decide not to stay a Yankee, nobody will blame you. We'll understand. Pussy does as pussy wants, right? And if you don't care about your name, you should definitely run. As fast as you can. Nobody will notice. Walk out that door. See if we care.

No. Don't! Don't walk out that door. Pick up the phone. Dial the number. Read the aforementioned words.

KEVIN MILLWOOD... STAY!