Dear Season Ticket Holder,
I am sorry. 2016 has not been what any of us expected.
My brother Bill keeps telling me we should just make mixtapes for all of our season ticket holders, but it turns out no one sells blank cassettes anymore. We told Billy Smith to go to Circuit City and grab a bunch, and he hasn’t even come back. He called us from Pocatello, Idaho, and said he was pretty sure he found one, but it was dark inside, and then some young street toughs came up and took his wallet and pants, and then the local cops picked him up for public indecency. We flew Scotty Ullger out there to pick him up, but it sounds like he got a rental car and hasn’t been heard from since. Somebody said they heard he was at the Circus Circus in Las Vegas playing penny slots. All we know is that when we called his TracFone, the kid at the Enterprise counter picked up and said he’d never smelled that much Hai Karate in his life and that Scotty tipped him in Marlboro Miles.
The last time we had Scotty go pick Billy up after street toughs had absconded with his wallet and pants, he brought back Ruben Sierra and Phil Nevin. I should know better. That’s on me.
This season has been monumentally disappointing. We’re not going to raise season ticket prices, because we want to maintain a modicum of good will with you all, and my brother Bill wants you to see his upcoming biopic about Blue Öyster Cult. He says he has Chris Pratt on board to play Buck Dharma, whoever either of those guys are. So go see that after his Sean Penn movie tanks. Don’t tell him I said that, but it sounds like a giant turd if you ask me.
Sorry about the season. Please come back next year? We’ll get some pitchers and a catcher, I suppose.