No names... of course

Open letter to Michael Kay (TV play-by-play announcer for the Yankees):

OK. First of all, you're dreamy. You're also very protective of your privacy, so i have no idea if you're coupled or not, but I have to imagine you are. What a catch. (oooh what a catch! a pretty play!) But that's not what I came here to say.

Here's the thing:

Not that you have to fear for your job or anything, but I have, over the last little while, eerily anticipated your words during the Yankees broadcast. I say something, you say it a minute or two later.

Like when that terrific rookie, Khalil Greene, who is a dead ringer for Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, came to bat. Dude, I totally said that he looked like Spicoli only 45 seconds before you did. And... no one else in the broadcast booth knew who, or what, you were talking about.

I knew.

I make the same dork-tastic puns as you do, almost at the same time.

I knew what you meant when you said "Bonus Cantos" when the game went to extra innings the other night.

If it weren't for the fact that you're this big, busy, seriously important guy who lives hundreds of miles away from me, I would totally take you out for cocktails sometime.

I think we would enjoy each others' company. I think we would crack each other up. Or hate each other on sight. Either one, really.

In any case, I love your flavor, baby, in all your dorky, big-word-using, literary-reference-dropping, pun-loving glory.


...and we do thank you for that.