Detroit at Twins. Detroit 6, Twins 0.
My Dearest Twins,
I didn't want to bring this up before, but tomorrow is Batgirl's birthday. No, no, no gifts. No cards, flowers, (except from you, Joe.) No jewelry or lingerie, fine Croton watches, or first edition Jane Austens, not even sushi-grade tuna or gem-encrusted collars for the BatKitties (though you know that is the way to my heart). All Batgirl wants for her birthday* is for you guys to get it together.
Birthday Present!
Batgirl loves you. She loves you so much. She gives her blood, sweat, and precious bodily fluids to you. Each song she sings, each poem she writes, each day she lives, she dedicates to you. And she's never asked for anything in return, not a single thing. But now, well, Batgirl needs you. She needs you to remember the baseball team you once were, the baseball team you can be again. She needs you to remember the small ball, the clutch hitting, the patience at the plate, the who's-next heroics, and the joie de vivre that makes Batgirl love you so.
Now, as I keep telling my talented and ingenious readership, I know you're better than this. I really do. I know you're a better team than the Devil Rays, and I find it hard to believe you can get shut down by the number 5 starter of the Detroit Tigers. Yeah, yeah, I know they're way better than last year, but Batgirl pitches better than the Tigers did last year, and she's got a serious tendency to hang her curveballs.
But today's game you were just plain soggy. You lollygagged. I know you had to get up way early and all, and you were probably still having a psychic hangover from Torii's way cool walk-off last night, but you've got to get out there and slay them, no matter what. If not for yourselves, then for Batgirl. And I know the problem isn't really you. I know Bud Selig sent those evil fairies to prove you were an aberration. But, you know what? You're better than the fairies, too. Take some of that lumber and start whacking at them.
LeCroy flails at faeries. Nathan tries pummeling them.
Better? Okay, you've had your slump. Now it's time to get out of it. And whatever you need from Batgirl, she's here for you. Therapy--group, couple, or individual; Jungian or Freudian; behavioral or gestalt; art or dance. Massage—Thai, Swedish, reiki, ayurvedic, aromatherapeutic, touch. Exorcisms, cleansings, ritual tofu sacrifices, psychic healings, Bitch Sox effigies, or just some delicious hand-made cookies that will make you forget all of your troubles. Whatever you want. Just drop me a note. We're all in this together.
It's a new year tomorrow, time to put old things behind us and as Batgirl looks ahead she realizes there are many things she wants. It will be her, um, 25th year, and she's got many goals. Yet more sass, more involvement from the BatKitties, improvements on the BatQuarters (Sooz: Jacuzzi?), fame and fortune, and a Joe Mauer autograph—but nothing she wants as much as a three-peat. And for that, you guys are going to have to bring it. It's time, now.
All my love,
Batgirl
*(This doesn't apply to you, Goober)
Posted by Batgirl at June 5, 2004 04:01 PM