Dearest Alexandra - aka PuppetMaster, AD and judge supreme...to you, I say thank you. On a field full of smelly men covered in pine tar and chalk - neither of which is needed for the honorable sheaf toss - you are one of the sights of the day I look foward too. You are among the few who deserve the same homage and tribute as I. I will share my scotch and cookies, which the athletes provide, with you on any field of competition. Especially is it is raining, for I know you shall, perhaps, be considerate enough to keep me dry and warm
Please, please to not place yourself among those defending the perverse and angry ways I am treated by the athletes - after all the blessings I have bestowed upon them. Those I bless with improved prowess of the field disparage me as a curse and insist I go home with the one whose sheaf toss is the least of the day. I run from the long haired becuase I was not wrapped in a towel to protect me - but covered and muffled because he did not want to be seen with me.
I will find a place to be, a place where I am comfortable and happy, perhaps I can find my way to a place I have been before; and then, when the season begins, a new person can take me home, maybe ruark or miked or perhaps thehammer. I miss the scotch and sunning myself under sheaf standards already, what a long dreary winter it will be if I cannot find the place for which I search.