A Dear John Letter From the Phillies to Jose Mesa

Dear Jose,

We might as well just come out and say it: it's not working out between us. Every time we see you, it reminds us too much of the pain you've caused us over the years. It's sad to watch. You still dangle your right arm inches above the ground, leaning in to get the signal, but now it only reminds us of the slow, intolerable atrophy of our once-proud relationship.

We really don't want to have to say this since it's so overused, but--it's not you, it's us. You should have never been here in the first place. We've always attracted the worst sort of luck, and we can never protect our loved ones from these freakish, horrific twists of fate.

Case in point: Carlos Lee was out at first last night. Dead to rights. Ballgame over. But the umpires didn't see it that way and there you were, in the thirteenth inning--one day after your 41-year-old body had struggled through another disappointing relief performance--pitching to a man 17 years your junior. We can almost understand, Jose. If we'd have been up there, we might have thrown a gopher ball too.

We're just got too much pride, Jose. Our initial attraction was based on mutual overachievement, before we discovered that we also shared a great deal in terms of mediocrity. The only difference is that you seen to have completely given up, yet we are soldiering confidently to our 10,000 loss as a franchise. We are romantics, Jose, and "romance" disappeared from your vocabulary a long time ago (along with "strike three").

Please, Jose, remember the good times. Remember those back-to-back 40-save seasons. Your hair was still a rich black color back then, and your goatee (dangling, like your arm, precipitously far away from your body) a ticket into baseball Valhalla. Remember those funny commercials you used to do, pretending "Pat Burrell" was pidgin Spanish for "Studmuffin" and making fun of Travis Lee's Frankenstein-esque demeanor. That dude was always good for a laugh.

You knew this was just a fling for old time's sake, cashing in what little was left of our memories. It was never going to last. We've packed up all your stuff already. Just grab your things and go, Jose. Don't make this more painful than it already is.

Sincerely,
The Philadelphia Phillies Baseball Club