Dear Tito,

I’m not really sure what to say to you anymore.

I’m disappointed? I feel hurt? Frustrated? But why is it so hard for you to understand that I get nauseous every time John Smoltz takes the mound? Why do you keep putting me through this? I thought we had something special going on this season.

Tito, I think we’ve reached that point in our relationship where we’re four months deep and both realizing it’s just not working out. I for one am tired of making excuses. I’m tired of pretending everything’s going to be OK. Because right now, it’s not. We’re in a slump. A rut. A dark place I’m not sure we’re capable of crawling out of.

Don’t get me wrong. I want this to work out Tito. I do. But I’m kind of losing hope right now. And I think we need to talk about it.

The truth is, the only 42-year-old starting pitcher I want to see take the mound in a Sox uniform again is Tim Wakefield. I understand he is due to start throwing again tomorrow. This pleases me. The Sox’s performance today, however, did not. What are you going to do about that? Because people are starting to ask questions – and we should probably get our story straight.

To be honest Tito, the person you should be more concerned about disappointing is my Nana. She’s been watching you and the boys every day. (Even the replays she doesn’t realize aren’t live games.) And right now Nana is not happy. Here is a snippet of a conversation we had today.

ME: Nan, what do you think the problem is? The hitting or the pitching?
NANA: I don’t know. Some of them are hitting. Some of them are pitching alright. You try to give them the benefit of the doubt. If they’re injured … But they know better. They’ve been doing this a long time. You get tired of making excuses for them.

Tito, the one bright spot Nana sees happening this season is the opening of Big Papi’s restaurant in Framingham. I can’t believe I just wrote that. I feel sick again.

Call me Tito. We need to talk.


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