The best way to get over Paps is to get under Papi.
A bitter person wouldn’t have sat through regurgitated presser clips last night at the bar. No. A bitter person would have done a lot more muttering than I did after work last night. She probably would have thrown a salt shaker.
I’m not bitter. To be bitter, you have to care. A pitcher of Yuengling said I didn’t give a frick.
No, I don’t. I don’t care enough about you to throw salt, Jonathan Papelbon, or look up from my pitcher when your deer-eyed shapeless face is on the television screen.
There are big problems in this world. BIG problems. Like my friend Meg, for example. Thanks to Viking incompetence, she LOST her fantasy football game yesterday. Now that’s a problem.
Johnny Paps? I don’t even remember who you are anymore, Papel-prick.
Oh. Right. That guy.
So, Ben Cherington, aka: Keebler, we turn our bitter eyes to you. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And who better to get under than David Ortiz?
Yes, you’ve expressed interest…
But that’s not enough, Cherryo. It’s time to make a deal. The people, YOUR people, need good news. We need some good fricking news. It’s time to get over your anti-all-free-agents-lauren-likes attitude and get behind the beast. The Ortiz beast.
You make me nervous, Benny. NERVOUS.
It’s time to stroke the ego of a man who gave the nation hope when we didn’t deserve it.
Yeah. So he had a bit of a ‘tude this year. Yeah, so he stepped on some Tito-toes.
But Tito (sniff!) isn’t here anymore. Theo? He isn’t here any more. We are all we’ve got. And we need our mascot. We need him now more than ever.
Remember the slump year? The really bad one?
I do. I was living in Charlotte. And my new friend Eric (who I met at a dog park because he was wearing a Red Sox hat) called, and was like, let’s go watch a game.
And we met at Midtown Sundries on W.T. Harris Blvd (location is important) and David Ortiz hadn’t hit anything in like sixteen baseball decades. And the bar was full of people who are like, “he’s out. He’s old. Move on.” Damn Yankee hats.
And Eric and I were really quiet. And Ortiz stepped up to the plate. He stepped up and he did that palm clap that he does (you know the one) and that eyebrow scowl. And I said, “Eric, I swear to God, if he hits something, I will name my first born child after that man.”
And that’s how my puppy earned the name Elliot-May-Precious-Ortiz.
Because he knocked it out of the freaking park. He earned me seven dollars, a beer and a puppy name that night. And my life had been so ridiculous. Terrible job (in television. It was truly terrible. 4 a.m. shifts. Weekends. Try to have a social life in a new city with that schedule). Terrible boyfriend situation (NASTY, nasty break-up. Like, take what you’re thinking and add in this skanky girl from Baltimore). All alone in a city, really. Seriously, baseball. Pathetically, you were all I had. And in that moment, David Ortiz, I wasn’t some pathetic girl alone in Charlotte, North Carolina. I was part of a screaming, cheering, excited nation. I wasn’t the girl with the insane schedule who slept through dates. I was just a girl at a bar watching a great moment in a baseball game.
That’s how I made friends in Charlotte, see. We found each other, Red Sox hat by Red Sox hat. We found each other because of you, David Ortiz.
Yeah, World Series.
But David Ortiz, what I remember you the most for is that time everyone (announcers included) 100 percent counted you out, and you came busting through the wall of doubt with a firecracker of a home run, and how I felt that day.
That’s what you mean to me. And that’s why I will be absolutely, freaking, pathetically inconsolable if they do not re-sign you.
Some players are more than players. And you’re one of them. And I’d like you to retire in that damn jersey.
It’s scary, really, the personal connections we have to a sport about a stick and a ball…
But the internet tells me I’m not alone in this. There are other crazy people with crazy infatuations. Don’t believe me? You’re the one reading this rant.
So Ben Cherington, PLEASE. For me. Re-sign David Ortiz. And do it now.
Because he’s more than a DH. He’s our mascot.
What’s your Papi moment? Everyone has one.
PS- WHY haven’t you twittered me yet? Is it me?