Open letter to Mr. Curt Schilling: You are NOT going to get away that easily

Dear Madam or Sir,

I know EXACTLY what you're trying to do. And don't even think about it.

This business you announced yesterday - something about cancer, something about taking time off, something about dealing with things that are important in life, blah blah blah... OHHHHHHH NO, YOU DON'T.

Nope. Don't you dare try to walk away. Don't you dare get sick on us. 

As far as you and us are concerned, this aint over. We Yankee fans consider you the Bogeyman, and - as everybody knows, the Bogeyman cannot die. Batman needs the Joker. Thor needs Loki. Flash needs, uhm, the Reverse Flash. You're our Reverse Flash.

So don't you think you can get sick and suddenly slip out the back door, and leave us hanging on a plot arc. Oh, no. We have plans for you. You're supposed to live for at least 30 years, and in the end, everybody else will be gone, and it'll just be you and us, fighting bare-handed, like Nicolas Cage and John Travolta in "Face/Off," with nobody even certain of who is the good guy, and we're driving two super speedboats, which crash into the pier, hit a ramp and go hurtling into the air, and we actually splat into each other, like globs of goo, and then we get up and fight to the bloody death. That's how it is meant to be. YOU DO NOT GET TO HAVE CANCER. YOU DO NOT GET RID OF US THAT EASILY. THIS CANCER BUSINESS, IT'S GOT TO END.

We have a date for a final confrontation. But not now. Not even soon. I'm thinking more like the year 2040. I'm thinking wheelchairs. I'm thinking we're shooting each other with forks full of creamed corn. The wheelchairs crash into a receptionist area, and we go hurtling into the air, slamming into each other and swinging our walkers, and then, lying on the floor of the nursing home, we beat each other to death with our dentures. Something like that. 

Don't you DARE think about leaving. No sir. That can't happen. Take your pills. Do your protocols. Hug your family. And come back to us. So we can finish this.