Hey pal, first off, it took lotsa moxie to write your response piece. I wanted to commend you for that. You’re right, my response was over the top. I had barely read your article. I saw “attendant” and “heros” and the pedophilia and got down in the mud to fling some back. Your apologies are a little long though, don’t beat yourself up too much man—I am the random outfielder tossed in the Garza deal, I did hit .223 last year…we athletes have thick skin (our ‘souls’ a matter of statistical record?). I wasn’t upset about anything you wrote. I like Sarah Silverman and other offensive comedy, I was just ‘playing a hand’ of your game. If your article was well written, and/or funny, I’d simply have had a laugh about it and went back to metafilter.com where I belong when I’m on the net when it was forwarded to me. Since the piece was so weak, I was sucked in, feeling that if I was going to be ridiculed, that it should at least be done artfully! I still stand by that, but in general, I regret even showing a pulse here. I don’t read sports blogs and shouldn’t have began this morning on some quest to bolster satirical sports journalism one obscure piece at a time. Idealistically, I had imagined that writing back to you would “score one for the athletes” or something. How ambitious. This was a mere moment of passion; I had imagined this morning that if/when you arrived at my blog, you’d feel just like athletes do when their cousin or someone close to them sends them a link in which some blogger tears them apart.
I totally understand reaching for some shock value in trying to make the piece more provocative. You are at task to generate traffic. As sarcastic as this sounds, its makes total sense that you’d pit 13 year old me on a massage table with some wayward pedophile Yankee fan. You’re just doing your job. I simply used those things as fuel. If I’m lucky and I amount to a little more in my baseball career, I’m sure someone will say worse, and will do so without typos and a with a killer storyline, especially if I do something really crazy for a human being to do, you know, like get ostensibly drunk at a bar, or say something that I really feel during an interview as opposed to entering token political correctitude. You can change “Ace” to “Dudeman” while we athletes do our jobs in glass gerbil tanks.
Anyway, I should wrap up here. As an athlete, I should have been in bed at least an hour and a half ago, so that I can escort all the children in my neighborhood to their bus-stop in the morning. It’s been fun playing in the mud my friend. No hard feelings, and please accept my counter-apology—I don’t know what got into me operating a computer being an athlete and all.