Dear Roy Halladay,
Of course we're all only humans who make mistakes and feel sad and get steamrolled by the Yankees, but remember when you pitched for the Blue Jays and games would move in double-time because no one in the Bronx could touch you? I'm sorry that you signed your life away to that band of uncouth losers who don't groom and can't score and use Ben Fransisco as their designated hitter. I'm sorry that playing in the National League has made you soft and beatable. I'm sorry that we won't see you in the World Series. I hope you're not too depressed. I'm confident that you'll do better next time. I still think of you very affectionately and will wear my Phillies hat on your game days.
Dear Mark Teixeira,
Why are you so, so strange? What are you doing in this photo? Why is your face the way it is?
I'll never understand,