Dear Batfans,

It’s been a hard winter, to be honest. There was no annual ice fishing trip to the secret fishin’ spot in the Nunavit lands. No snowmobile rally. No chainsaw ice sculpture contest. Nope. Without Corey, the old traditions just didn’t hold the same appeal.

And I couldn’t look upon the arrival of spring with the same excitement, either; and I don’t just mean that the annual spring shearing of the 6-month beard was humdrum. As most of you know, Corey was my boyfriend; or, if you prefer, my “non-sexual man crush.” We had a special connection, and I couldn’t see how I could have the same understanding with any other Twin.

Many of you have written to express both your condolences and your hope that I might find another. There were suggestions of Tiffee, Bartlett, Lew, and others. But to whom could really entrust my baseball heart? Who could compare with a guy who carved all his own furniture out of wood? Who would see a dugout not as a limit, but as a minor obstacle between him and foul balls? Who would lay it all on the line, get knocked down, and grimly stand up, square up, crack his neck, and do it all over again (with, perhaps, a few additional bionic parts)?

Then I realized I was thinking about this all wrong. Why does my boyfriend have to be a fuzzy, mountain man, canuck, Leatherstocking type? Isn’t your boyfriend just the player who you think epitomizes Twins baseball? The one who you think gives it all on the field each night? The one who you think will bring you shared victory in the hard-fought Boyfriend of the Year contest?

Well, it’s time to trade in my copy of “Outdoor Life” for a copy of Doom IV, time to exchange my big axe for a virtual two-handed Vorpal blade +4...it’s time to declare Lew Ford my boyfriend.

Sincerely,

Jeb

P.S. The BODSHC also declared Lew the B.O.D.!

Readers/Field 3, Jeb/Lew 3, Sooz/ Stewie 2, Batgirl/Joe 1, Goober/Dr. Morneau 1.

Pass me the 20-sided die!