Oh, Media… where are you NOW?
Yankees hat? Biebs? Really?
You were everywhere during Soxsplosion. You were so helpful, news media. Like the stalker from SwimFan.
Pointing out everything from our beer choices to our attitudes. I, for one, really appreciated the loyalty. You stuck it out with us, us specifically. I mean, one would think we would see more coverage of Bravesplosion. Since, numbers-wise, it was kind of worse. Or coverage of the Cardinals. You know. Since they won. And, see, I thought the World Series was a big deal. But I also like to listen to Justin Bieber on my shower radio, so, sometimes my thought process is different from that of other 28-year-olds. I kind of thought you would pay more attention to the Stankees, since their loss was pretty hilarious. Seriously, for like a brief second, I thought you were going to abandon us for ten minutes. But nope, you’re nothing if not loyal, you faithful ones, you. Through November, when you made sure that, even as people started to forget the Cardinals’ new rings, they’d NEVER forget that time Josh Beckett pudged up. Oh, and in December. When you were so considerate. Spreading your Soxsplosion evangelism. Just to make sure Americans really, really got those oh-so-subtle fried chicken cracks. (Can someone tell another chicken joke? I feel like it’s been a month since I’ve heard one) I love how you continued your close, personal relationship with us in January and February. Remember all those special blurbs about us? Even when everyone was paying attention to the Giants and the Patriots- you didn’t let them forget about how Papelbon left us and how Papi wasn’t worth the cash and how our players are old and how Jacoby is leaving us someday and … oh… something about chicken…
Where are you now, Media? When we do things like shut out the Stankees?
Suddenly, I feel so alone. It’s like, the world is dark and all I have is the ability to laugh at Justin Bieber’s hat.
Tell me you’re at least still bugging my closet.
I have my best phone conversations in there.
I’ve been working for sixteen hours. SIXTEEN HOURS.
I miss you.