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A John Gibbons Prayer!

June 19, 2017

 

Dear big Skip in the ol’ ninny sky,

 

It’s been a long time since ol’ Gibbers spoke to ya, and I sure hope to hell you’re not in an ol’ horn-tossing mood because I feel like you’ve been tossing horns over our goddamn plate all season long, am I right ol’ Skip?

 

Now if you’re really up in the ol’ baseball clouds like a whole heck of a lot of people seem to believe, then you should know that I’m an honest Texas man and if I say a hen dips snuff, you can look under her wing for the can. So could ya try to cut my ol’ Birds a little slack for this ol’ Gibbers who stands on the good dirt hill? Can ya? Goddamn it.

 

To be honest big Skip, anything could be better than the poke in the eye with a sharp baseball bat that my boys have been receiving all season. The ol’ Gibbers here is startin’ to think that you’re slicker than a boiled onion, and I don’t want to think that way about ya, but at this point I’m feelin’ like your ol’ baseball sky is so crooked that if y’all swallowed a nail, y’all would spit up a corkscrew.

 

Now I know ol’ Gibbers has got his tail up big Skip, but can ya blame me? All I want to do is steer my ship up and over .500, but every goddamn time we get a forsaken chance, the wild boars of hell come on in and pile our fate with manure that’s as welcome as a porcupine at a nudist colony. And the wins when we need them have been so dry my duck don’t know how to swim, and ducks know how to swim, they’re goddamn ducks damnit.

 

Listen here Skip, I know baseball is about as easy as putting socks on a rooster, so what you’ve been serving to us since opening day hasn’t exactly made things any goddamn easier on us. The thing is Skip, ol’ Gibbers isn’t the type who blames everything on the weather or his raising, but I don’t think our team got caught in our own loop, I think it got caught in yours.

 

Ah geez Skip, I’m sorry if ol’ Gibbers is a bit on edge, but the good baseball season is well on its way towards July, and I just don’t know who else to turn to. We got some big games in Texas against Banister, who we know is as dumb as baseball dirt, and if a duck had his brain, heck, it would fly north for winter ... that's for damn sure. So my Birds need to win this series and beat these damn Rangers, do ya understand?

 

I mean goddamn it ol’ Skip, Banister doesn’t know enough to even pound sand down a damn rat whole. That ol’ ninny cowboy don’t even know how to ride and chew at the same time, so I need my good boys to beat that bucket of soot and his cactus choking team, that’s for goddamn sure.

 

The truth is ol’ Skip that I’ve been as confused as a goat on Astro Turf all season long with the ol’ lack there of luck that my ship has received from your baseball sky, and that’s not what I had my face fixed for this season. I will try to simmer down a bit in my moment with you because I’m not trying to be wilder than a peach orchard boar, but I’m startin’ to see red every time I look your way big Skip in your little squirt sky.

 

Now I need a goddamn series win in Texas, can ya hear me up there ya little ninny? A goddamn series win. Heck ol’ man, I will take a nice series sweep in my home state. It’d be real nice to watch Banister try to chew on that nickel steak because he’s as worthless as teats on a bull and you know it, ya do. And me and you both know that Rougned Odor sure as shit couldn’t organize a pissing contest in a brewery too, don’t we?

 

So listen here, ol’ Gibbers isn’t playin’ nice anymore, I’m not askin’ ya, I’m tellin’ ya ... I want my series win in Texas, or it looks like you’ll have ten miles of bad road once ol’ Gibbers joins the dirt and meets you up in the sky ol’ Skip, do ya hear me? Do ya understand?

 

And I’m not done just yet, I want ya to know that I’m not askin’, but I’m tellin’ ya that I want a series win in ol’ Kansas too because Dorothy goddamn Gale isn’t coming to town, but Gibbers and the Big Blue Birds are flying on in and not a goddamn ‘Toto’ is gonna be able to cute their way out of this, I tell ya.

 

Now, I want to thank you for giving me your 'up in the baseball sky ears' on this good day because I’m cooking on a front burner today, as the ol’ porch light is always burning, and that’s the type a feeling that makes any ol’ ninny happy.

 

I know you’re always just two hoots and a holler away, so I’m gonna try to touch base with ya a little more often. But I want ya to know that I’m as serious as the business end of a .45, so I hope ya heard this skip, me, loud and clear, cowboy, because Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, well, one day I will be heading for the wagon yard and I know where to find ya.

 

Amen.

 

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