Posted:
#1
Mike,
This is not a fan letter. I know you are crushed, but now that you are the greatest Olympian ever you must get thousands of fan letters each day. It must be fun to read about how you have awed, inspired, and motivated ordinary people. Sure you get the occasional creepy parcel requesting that you autograph a Speedo, or requests for romance from women of all ages, shapes and sizes, but at least you get fan mail. I get bills, coupons for pizza, and sometimes a pamphlet telling me that the end of the world is nigh and I must accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour.
I am writing to apologize for not witnessing any of your gold medal winning performances. Furthermore, I think I am the only one who hasn't discussed your awesome achievements over a Big Mac, cup of coffee, or cigarette. I feel deeply left out of the loop. I am lost. I am hurt. So, actually, Aquaman (ESPN, August 11 issue), you owe me an apology for creating a world suddenly dominated by your legendary accomplishments.
As a true sports fanatic, I am baffled by my aversion to your sport. But after careful self evaluation, I think I have figured it out. My father's idea of swim lessons was to trick me into believing he would catch me when I jumped into the pool. And when I gleefully leaped into the water he would back away, which almost always caused such panic that I nearly drowned every time. Don't feel bad, Mike, I eventually learned how to dog paddle. Also, I think your name has something to do with it. In the 5th grade, Ricky Phelps shoved me into a metal fence pole during gym class soccer, resulting in a crooked gash on my frontal lobe that required numerous stitches. Water in your goggles may be the biggest downer for you, Michael, but I say there is nothing worse than an angry overweight child.
Once again, Mike, I am sorry. I will try harder to watch sports history in the making. However, please do me a favor. Keep playing modest, even humble, with the media. That way the story will vanish more quickly and sports media will be forced to move on to a sport I really love, NFL football. One more thing: Could you please, please, please send me an autographed picture. I need to sell it on E-bay before my credit card is turned over to a collection agency.
Disrespectfully Yours,
Pugnacious Prognosticator
This is not a fan letter. I know you are crushed, but now that you are the greatest Olympian ever you must get thousands of fan letters each day. It must be fun to read about how you have awed, inspired, and motivated ordinary people. Sure you get the occasional creepy parcel requesting that you autograph a Speedo, or requests for romance from women of all ages, shapes and sizes, but at least you get fan mail. I get bills, coupons for pizza, and sometimes a pamphlet telling me that the end of the world is nigh and I must accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour.
I am writing to apologize for not witnessing any of your gold medal winning performances. Furthermore, I think I am the only one who hasn't discussed your awesome achievements over a Big Mac, cup of coffee, or cigarette. I feel deeply left out of the loop. I am lost. I am hurt. So, actually, Aquaman (ESPN, August 11 issue), you owe me an apology for creating a world suddenly dominated by your legendary accomplishments.
As a true sports fanatic, I am baffled by my aversion to your sport. But after careful self evaluation, I think I have figured it out. My father's idea of swim lessons was to trick me into believing he would catch me when I jumped into the pool. And when I gleefully leaped into the water he would back away, which almost always caused such panic that I nearly drowned every time. Don't feel bad, Mike, I eventually learned how to dog paddle. Also, I think your name has something to do with it. In the 5th grade, Ricky Phelps shoved me into a metal fence pole during gym class soccer, resulting in a crooked gash on my frontal lobe that required numerous stitches. Water in your goggles may be the biggest downer for you, Michael, but I say there is nothing worse than an angry overweight child.
Once again, Mike, I am sorry. I will try harder to watch sports history in the making. However, please do me a favor. Keep playing modest, even humble, with the media. That way the story will vanish more quickly and sports media will be forced to move on to a sport I really love, NFL football. One more thing: Could you please, please, please send me an autographed picture. I need to sell it on E-bay before my credit card is turned over to a collection agency.
Disrespectfully Yours,
Pugnacious Prognosticator
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