This is Red, the man your parents, for some inexplicable reason, have entrusted to guide you through this life if, God help us, anything ever happens to them. I hope this note finds you well, on the day that you graduate from pre-school. Having once graduated from pre-school myself, I understand that this is a magical time, and I hope that yesterday’s ceremony [which, from what I understand, was to feature the guy who writes those Arthur books and a cake shaped like R2-D2] was everything you had hoped it would be. Also, I hope that the official Bill Mueller jersey that I sent you to commemorate this special day was to your satisfaction.
You may have asked why I wasn’t able to make the ceremony in person. Well, of course, I was planning on attending. But then I received a call from “Wild” Bill MacKinnon, an old college cohort who just happened to have an extra ticket to yesterday’s game. Now, while I’m all about education and was very excited to hear that you were selected to perform your celebrated marionette version of “My Favorite Number is 6” at the ceremony, I felt the game had to take precedent.
And I’m glad it did. After all, it’s not every day that OC comes back to play Fenway Park. Sure, the sun was a little rough, but I got to see Ortizzle come through yet again, continuing to haunt the Angels to the point that I’m certain several members of the team simply remove their pants and assume “the position” whenever Papi steps into the batter’s box. Someday, they’ll be erecting a statue of this guy in Fanueil Hall, and I’ll be more than happy to bring you ’round to get a good look at it.
And then there was that great catch by Jay Payton. And more evidence that Millar’s bat might just have a few hits left in it. And good christ, the outfits on those three chicks from BU sitting in front of us. Also, the bullpen went 2 and 2/3 innings without giving up a run. After Saturday’s debacle [or, as your Dad will most likely remember it, “the day Red put his foot through our new plasma”], this is good news.
All in all, it was a great day at the ballpark, young Thaddeus. I only wish you could have been there as well, but, you see, Bill only had one extra ticket. Hopefully, you received the various text messages I sent you from my comfortable perch in Section 16. You can be certain that, if I wasn’t at the game, I would have had a front-row seat to your graduation ceremony. Sure, I would have been listening to the game via carefully-concealed headphones, but what the hell does it matter, anyway? Christ, this is pre-school. You’ve still got middle school and high school and college and I’m sure I’ll make at least one of those ceremonies. Just see what you can do about having them on an off day. Or maybe in the winter. You want to pull me out of my air-conditioned home and deny my Constitutional right to enjoy a full day’s supply of Remy and Orsillo? Christ almighty, get over yourself.
PS: Yankees lose again. How long until Steinbrenner kills Cashman? I mean like really, actually shoots him?