Hey, I remember you. It was more than a year ago that we first spoke. You were going through some things, you weren't quite sure of some strange, new feelings.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you're don't think so. I was away for so long, my injury so nagging; you didn't think you'd ever look at me the same way ever again. Turn the calender from April to May and the Meter of Appropriateness turns from uncomfortable to litigious. I understand why you might not be thinking straight.
Let's cut the bullshit: I know I'm out there, killing it each and every day. Line drives? Constant. Walks? Sure, whatever. OPS of 1.00 on the number? Gimme a day, I've got to sort some shit out. Home runs? Yeah, I'm leading the team, so the fuck what? Clutch? Wouldn't you like to know.
So yeah dude, I'll keep saying all the right things. "Just trying to help the team win" and shit. But don't kid yourself, I see you out there. Eying the middle of the diamond like never before, getting uncomfortable, chugging the rest of your $10 beer. It's cool man, I've seen way bigger and way harder men fall by the wayside in my day. I'll just keep doing my thing, knowing how much power I have over your life. Don't sweat it brah, I'll keep that shit just between us.