Dear Sirs,
You’re kiddin’ me, right?
Just when I think my team
is headed for its best season in years,
you pull the rug out from under me,
and strike down our best ballplayer
with a pulled hamstring.
Do you enjoy torturing me?
Do you take particular pleasure
in making me totally miserable?
True, there are 24 other guys on the team,
but he is the one whose batting average
I follow in the box score every day.
I know you sirs are quite busy,
directing the bounce of the ball,
the arc of the pitch, but c’mon,
let me have a break here.
Allow me, please, my small hopes
to get me through my rather ordinary life.
Sincerely yours,
A Most Dispirited Fan