Okay. I’m… um… Sorry.
Dear John Lackey,
I’m sorry, okay?
I… I… I shouldn’t have said that thing about you… and Sloth from the Goonies.
Or that thing about you and… um… Napoleon Dynamite. And Lenny from “Of Mice and Men.” (But come on. That one’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?)
Or… about how you reminded me midget version of Andre the Giant with less hair who was less cool.
And that thing I said about how your cookie monster voice grates on every fiber of my being, especially when you’re blaming the offense for your shitty pitching… um… I didn’t mean that either.
Your pitching isn’t shitty. At the moment.
It’s kind of great.
So. Um… are we cool?
Love,
Lauren
(Yeah, so I’ve used this before. But… um… I suppose it’s relevant…)
PS- Thanks for making us third. And… um… putting us 3.5 games behind the Yankees. Um… okay.
Too Soxy for my Shirt 
You don’t owe Lackey anything. In fact he owes us many many wins he never should have had.
Sox rotation is getting it together…and yes, you don’t owe John Boy a “sorry.”
I think he earned the apology. As long as he’s doing his job, I will try my very best to refrain from calling him a lopheaded baboon.
It’s like how I’ve stopped calling Lowrie a mama’s boy and a hypochondriac squirrel.
When they do their jobs well, I keep my mouth shut.
And clearly, John Lackey can actually pitch.
When he wants to. And. Um. Yeah.
I’m working on my tactful apologies.
L