Dear George Steinbrenner,

RIP you old dog.

The rivalry will just not be the same without your grouchy mug watching from the stands. No one moves me to tear hair from my scalp like you do. No one flouts the law and rewards players for production without character like you. Who else is going to teach the kiddies that that there is nothing more important than winning at all costs?

Like this morning. The way you showed up Papi in the headlines? Stealing his thunder on a morning when baseball scribes should have been heralding the triumphant return of our once fallen DH? That is just so … so you.

I don’t know what to do say Boss, except, I am going to miss you. You old puss.


3 thoughts on “Dear George Steinbrenner,

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