Christmas Come Early

Dear Santa,

They say it takes a big man to apologize and a bigger man to accept that apology. Here's hoping you're the bigger man, Santa.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry your eternity is the most thankless job of all time. I'm sorry kids cry, pee and poop on you while their parents take pictures they'll never remember being in. I'm sorry Tim Allen played you in The Santa Clause. (I'm really sorry they made 3 of those awful movies.) I'm sorry for our one-way relationship over all these years. Finally, and more specifically, I'm sorry I stopped believing in you.

Regardless of my disbelief you've continued to nurture our relationship and, instead of defriending me, you simply embraced my doubt as an opportunity to flex those miracle muscles by granting my beloved sports teams an embarrassment of riches during this holiday season. (And not the shitty kind those wise men brought to baby Jesus. I mean, seriously, what the fuck is an infant going to to with Myrrh?)

You brought out the big reindeer and gave the Sox a penchant to use that checkbook they've had stashed in their back pockets the past few offseasons while their main opposition was slighted for using theirs. You transformed youth & arrogance into a coachable defense in Patriot Nation. You showed another hall-of-famer that chemistry is as important to winning a championship in Shamrock Land as hitting his free throws. And, if that wasn't enough, you put an end to the idiocy surrounding some old dude's desire to keep playing a game that passed him by.

Well played, Santa. Well. Played.

The age old adage, "When things seem too good to be true they usually are" speaks to the full-time conspiracy theorist in me but, considering what time of year it is, I think we both know there is no conspiracy here. There's just a fat man in a red suit with magical powers bringing all of us New England sports fans a little holiday cheer.

Again, I'm sorry about my past-disbelief-filled-discretions and, in all honesty, I'm really quite pleased we're beyond my "non-believing" phase. Rest assured, Kris, any speculation concerning your existence from this moment on will be dismissed as unsubstantiated gossip and hearsay.

Sincerely,
sports + thoughts

PS: Please tell Rudolph thanks again for his help. I haven't been that busy since Amsterdam in '03.

PPS: Oh, and stop stressing, it looks NOTHING like a bowlful of jelly when you laugh.

PPPS: Not even a little bit.