image by Samara Pearlstein
Max, dahling, so good to see you again! How are you? My goodness, what a foolish question! We can clearly see that you’re simply fabulous at the moment. Don’t mind us, we’re just so very flustered by your presence. But can you blame us, rully? Such devilish good looks, such roguishly good pitching! The strikeouts! Truly, my dear, you do spoil us so!
Sixteen strikeouts and three walks in the past fifteen innings? Maxwell! Gracious, someone bring us our smelling salts.
We’ve no desire to be… you know… presumptuous. But you’ve just been too much lately. A fanbase can only be expected to restrain itself for so long. Now we’ve got to ask. Dearest Maxums, you simply must date us. Would you consider it? Could you find it in your heart? (Which we know, of course, to be pure and good.) All of us Tigers fans.
You are just too dreamy. We mean, with the eyes and the Ks and the winning and whatnot. By Paws! We know, it seems so sudden, but darling, you must have seen it coming. You’ve seen the t-shirts worn around Comerica. Not all those 37s are leftover Kenny Rogers shirts, you know.
It’s been a rocky basepath, of course. You had to go down to Toledo. And that’s Ohio, yes pet, we know, we’re so very sorry, but you went like the wonderful teammate we know you are, and when you came back you just decided that you were going to strike out everyone else in the league and be super effective and, well, that’s been working out just lovely. We find that very attractive in a pitcher, yes indeed we do.
So what do you say, dear Maxie? Do let it be yes. We can all go out to dinner together and sup on the finest foods Mexicantown or Greektown has to offer. Or we’ll all go down to Slows BBQ together and eat delicious meats and the mac’n’cheese that is so good it will make your tongue sing Take Me Out to the Ballgame, dahling, and then we can frolic down Michigan Ave together, all of us holding hands, and we’ll watch the sun set over the skeletal remains of Tiger Stadium, and we can all reflect on the grandeur of Detroit, the fragility and toughness intertwined, the duality of the city reflected in your very own heterochromatic eyes.
And then we will all make out.
Basically we’re soulmates, Maxkittens. You’re meant to be with us. Don’t you agree? Yes. Beautiful.
(Keep pitching like this, or we’ll totally dump you for Justin Verlander, even though he’s all bloated with pitch counts. We’re fickle like that. But let us not speak of such things, and enjoy this while it lasts, hmm? Splendid.)