Attention, please. This is the Ellis Burks Glamour Shot talkin’. And for too long, my cardboard brothers and I have sat back in silence. While you’ve all been raging against the machine, we’ve remained cool and collected in the shoebox in the closet, under your bed and crumpled up in the back pocket of your teenage sister’s jeans (actually, we don’t mind that last one so much).
But no more. Today, I am here with a message from my people. And that message is, “Chill the f@#k out.”
Look, I know the hits ain’t comin’ and this team is suddenly just as flat-out boring to watch as any Lady Gaga performance. But you gotta believe. Remember back in 2004? When we were one lousy out from going down in four straight to the Yankees? Y’all figured that was it, and before you even knew what happened, there I was, coming off a plane from St. Louis with a World Series trophy in my hands. We didn’t give up then and I, as the spokesperson for Red Sox baseball cards everywhere, must insist that you come down off the ledge, have yourself a drink or a piece of toast or somethin’, and just get ready for the next game.
Now this is a different team than 2004, I know, but do you really think Theo’s just sitting around eatin’ FrankenBerry and playing Battleship, assuming everything’ll fall into place by August? The man’s working the phones like a crazy f@#ker, orchestratin’ some blockbuster that might not make sense when it happens (and I can only hope Clay Buchholz, Daniel Bard and Justin Masterson have already started packing their bags), but will have us all nodding in approval come October. How many World Series trophies do we need to win in this decade to convince you not to lose your heads. Sure, it’s fun to break stuff. But save that shit for late September, when you really need it.
You keep the faith, plain and simple. You keep the faith.
The Ellis Burks Glamour Shot has spoken! Now kindly return me to your sister’s back pocket.
