Dear Theo Epstein,
Can I call you Ep? Gee, I hope I can call you Ep. As you well know, pals use nicknames, and I’d like to call you Ep and maybe be your pal.
My nickname is Spence, and I’m writing because over the last few years my three best friends have picked up and moved away to states that have winning ballclubs. What does that have to do with you, you might ask? Well, nothing — unless you’re in the market for a pal, in which case I’ve got some slots open. But the truth is, I don’t want to move to Milwaukee, so I’m writing to ask for your help.
(Note: The following are not their names, but, of course, their nicknames.) Holt lives near St. Louis, where the Cardinals have kept the color red shimmering in spite of this being October. T-bone, fittingly, is in Texas, where the Rangers, most notably Nelson Cruz, have flourished. And Lar (rhymes with far) now calls Pennsylvania home, where he’s surrounded by Phillies fans and Phillies games and Phillies bars and Philadelphia cream cheese and Philadelphia cheese steaks, and everything Phillies.
Despite moving away, none of these friends have yet to cede their loyalty and commitment to their beloved Chicago Cubs — at least no one has risked extreme persecution by admitting as much.
But, Ep, I’m worried.
If a dog must sleep in a cold, drafty barn, he eventually enjoys sleeping in that cold, drafty barn. He prefers it. These guys don’t sleep in cold, drafty barns; they sleep in mansions of glory. All three have seen firsthand what it’s like to win and to win big. If all the glorious winning continues around them — and myself with those Brewers — while the Cubs continue to slide, then, Ep, buddy ol’ pal, I can’t be held accountable for keeping the faith in check.
T-bone has yet to hang his autographed Ernie Banks framed photo on the wall in Texas, and he’s lived there for a year now. Yet he has a huge Blackhawks insignia on the wall near a framed Mike Singletary autographed jersey.
Ep, you and I both went to Yale — well, my Yale was Illinois State — so we’re aware Einstein knew more than just how to make bagels. He said there are black holes out there in the universe, sucking everything downward to its end. The Cubs need to start winning again, start making and progressing deep into the playoffs, and eventually defy the laws of perpetual losing. They need to get out of that hole, or so much more will go down, not in a blaze of glory but in a puff of obscurity. Lives are on the line — Oops, I mean livelihoods are on the line.
That’s where, I believe, you enter into the picture. You’re the light, the savior. You’re going to make it happen. Yes, I realize a daunting task it will be. But pals have each other’s backs.
And, Ep, if I can call you that, I’d like to be your pal.