I remain in hope that I’m not the only one. But St. Louis is now up and arms about me, as how I can be a hateful, disloyal human being, all because I am not watching Cardinals baseball with the rest of them, cheering when a little, rabid vermin scampers across the field and comes this close to biting a player worth $75M on the ankle.
I assure you, it is nothing personal. I just can’t get involved in a sport where people spit.
See, if our players had on costumes, and in between each run, or whatever they’re called, they do an improvisational tap routine complete with jazz hands, I would be gung ho for baseball. As for right now, though, I remain a horrible person that St. Louis seems to hate. And when I say ‘hate,’ I mean hate; the kind that people usually reserve for people like Stalin, and Yoko Ono.
I beg for your understanding. I am scared to go out in public now. I can feel eyes on me, as if they just know I do not own a single jersey with a big, white number on the back, or piece of red clothing showing those two perching birds with glaring eyes, glaring at me, because they’re on to me. I sometimes fear for my life as I walk down the street and I see a group of people laughing on the other side, and they get very quiet as we pass, their eyes averting with displeasure as they somehow know what kind of person I really am. I wonder if I should hire a bodyguard.
But I really don’t understand the game, and I don’t want to. I do want to know if there are any others out there like me, pariahs who would rather watch Ovation than ESPR. Or whatever it’s called.
Thank you. My name is Autumn and I approve this message.