Dear Mr. Zito

As you can probably guess from today’s post title, we’re giving you another letter today, but before we discuss the horror that Serena will rally on and on and on and on about for what will most likely be several pages, we must discuss last week’s poll. We’re incredibly disappointed in the lack of shark lovers in our audience. We wanted to know how many people switched from the Yankees/Red Sox ESPN game on Sunday night to the season premier of Shark Men on NGC. 4 of 7 individuals voted for, “Uh, no a-holes. The Yankees and Red Sox get priority always.” Well, guess what, A-HOLES?! SERENA, the Yankee fan half of the TBB, switched from the game to Shark Men. Yes, yes she did. And she loved it so you can go F yourselves. You missed a doctor collecting sperm from a young adult great white shark. Lisa can vouch for this. She was a forced witness because Serena has only 1 television. The rest of you voted for “I AM a shark man.”Well…at least you have a sense of humor. That’s always a positive character trait. For some strange reason, no one voted for “I’d leave my infant son with a great white as a babysitter, so yes. I did switch.” We’re not scientists or anything like, but we can’t figure out why you wouldn’t leave your kid with a great white. If you watched Shark Men, you’d see that great whites hunt SEALS, not infants. GOD, you people are so stupid.

Flash back to Sunday Night Baseball two weeks ago. Dodgers/Giants. Exciting matchup. Serena was looking forward to it considering we don’t get many out of market games unless you have the MLB Network…which neither of us do. When Serena found out that her future ex-husband #1 (the second one being Chris Cornell) would be pitching, she was beyond stoked! Her first out of market game would feature Barry Zito! Hooray. The night was starting off so promising!

Then Zito appeared on the television. Serena dry heaved. Zito apparently has decided to rock the Magnum PI stache. He must have lost his goddamn mind. Or he’s doing crack cocaine because there’s clearly no rational explanation for someone who is typically so facially cultivated to suddenly wake up one day and think he is the star of a 1970’s porn.

Naturally, the following morning Serena demanded that Lisa check that sh*t out. Lisa felt like maybe Serena was exaggerating, but no. Google proved Serena’s rant right and Lisa felt like maybe God hated us all. She started to lose faith in mankind. It’s one thing for Jayson Werth to make a poor decision of this magnitude (because he does it all the time), but not Barry Zito! What has this world come to?

Walking from the subway station after the Yankees game, Serena toyed with the idea of writing a letter to Barry Zito since he is a giant moron who actually posted his email (or an email address to contact him) on his official Facebook page. As Serena prattled on about what she’d write to him, Lisa encouraged her to instead, post it here. You’re thrilled, aren’t you? Yet another nonsense blog about facial hair.

5:58 pm. Instead of immediately writing the aforementioned letter, Serena scolded one of Barry Zito’s fans on his Facebook page for encouraging his moustache:

6:01 pm. Back to the letter at hand.

Dear Barry,
I’d like to start this letter off by saying that I actually do like you. I’ve been a fan since your Oakland days. I have in my possession a baseball card of yours from the 2003 season. I’ve met you twice at Shea Stadium. The first time, I stuttered a lot and accidentally allowed you to sign the protective plastic covering of said baseball card. By the time I realized what an a-hole I was, it was too late and I had a signed plastic case in my hand. The second time I met you, I think I drooled a little bit in an attempt to ask for a photo with you. You acquiesced, but I think it’s because you felt sorry for me. Then my friend, Lisa asked you to sign a ball for a fellow fan and neglected to give you a writing implement. You held the ball a full minute before looking at her and asking, “Um, do you have a pen?” Lisa replied, “Uhhhhhh” until someone saved her from further embarrassment by handing you a black marker over her shoulder. SO, needless to say I am batting 1.000 in regards to interacting with you.

Now that I’ve proved my Zito Fanhood, it’s time I got to the real purpose of this letter. I watched your first start of the season on ESPN’s Sunday Night Baseball and despite your rocky first inning, you pitched pretty well. I’m happy to see that. What I am not happy to see is that Magnum PI moustache that you seem to be fond of these days. I understand that this complaint has nothing to do with your abilities as an athlete. I also understand that you owe me absolutely nothing, but let me try to convey to you exactly why I am as upset as I am.

Remember Lisa? She and I write a baseball blog called “Traveling Baseball Babes” and among the posts that actually manage to legitimately cover baseball, we talk about a lot bull sh*t that most people probably don’t care about. And I mean a lot. For example, we’ve covered facial hair at least twice since the blog’s inception. Actually, now that we’ve posted this letter to the blog, the topic of facial hair has been covered three times. In both initial facial hair-related posts, we congratulated your talents with the razor. You were always our star “pupil.” I present to you for your review Exhibit A and Exhibit B detailing our appreciation for your hair skills.

Why have you grown this 70’s porn-stache? I assure you that it is not comparable to Samson and his hair because you’re 0-1 and now you’re on the DL with some kind of freak of nature foot injury! In fact, I’d go as far as saying that your moustache is bad luck. It’s like a black cat hovering beneath your nostrils. Tom Selleck called. He wants his moustache back.

I understand that everyone wants to create a persona that is unique to you as an individual and will set you aside from your peers. Timmy’s got his hair, Pablo Sandoval aka: Panda has all of those Panda hats, and apparently an entire Renaissance Fair and a clan of ninjas reside in Brian Wilson’s magical beard. That stache is not your chance to stand above the crowd. I am now speaking as a woman to a man. Since it’s clear that the stache is not helping you pitch better, I feel it pertinent to mention that I don’t know any women that would allow their significant other to sport a 70’s porn-stache unless they decided to dress up as Magnum PI for Halloween. Technically, Tom Selleck shouldn’t even be rocking that moustache, but he’s Magnum PI so we allow it. Perhaps you being a rich baseball player will help you in the opposite sex department, but I strongly feel that your salary and fame shouldn’t be what you’re relying on solely to find love or whatever it is that you seek. Can’t you adopt a really interesting hobby that will set you apart from your teammates? What about your yoga (I promise that you don’t need a moustache to practice yoga because I practice yoga and do not currently have a moustache)? Surfing? Why not take up great white shark watching? I hear that’s quite popular in the Bay Area. Do something that you can really shine at. Magnum PI moustaches are not your strength. You’re better than this.

I close out this letter hoping that you’ll shave your heinous moustache, but if not, I hope that this letter at least makes you laugh. Get well soon. Please purchase a Norelco. I beg of you. Don’t make me send you a shaving kit care package to AT&T Park (unless you want to give me your home address).

Sincerely,
Serena Ahne

Now that she’s gotten that off of her chest, Serena feels a lot better. So much so that we can actually start talking about the real purpose of this blog. Stadium touring! We are officially booked for the 2011 touring season. We purchased our Denver airfare on Friday. Unfortunately, financial constraints have forced us to postpone our trip to Toronto. We’re hoping that we can squeeze Toronto in next season, but our priorities for 2012 are DC, Atlanta, and Serena and Maria’s 30th Birthday Excursion to Greece (where they do NOT play baseball). We may save some money by staying with Lisa’s relatives when we head down south, so Toronto is a possibility.

Since we’ll be flying into Minneapolis on May 22nd, Serena will end up missing her co-worker’s Northern New Jersey Walk Now for Autism Speaks event. Feeling a little bit guilty about blowing off Eileen, Serena offered to plug her event on the blog this week, so if anyone lives in the northern New Jersey area and has no plans for the 22nd, you should show your support and register to walk. You can register or donate online here. However, if you live on Long Island, you should just wait until October 2nd and walk in the event that Serena works. ; )

Now for this week’s baseball notes:
Yankees relief pitcher, Pedro Feliciano is likely done for the season. Glad to see all that he’s contributed to the organization thus far. According to an MRI on Tuesday, Feliciano suffers from a torn capsule in his left shoulder and he’s leaning toward undergoing orthoscopic surgery, which would end his season.

Serena’s starting catcher in fantasy baseball, Joe Mauer, was placed on the 15-day DL for “bilateral leg weakness” (what the F*CK does that mean?) and a viral infection. We have no idea what this means for Mauer, the Twins, or Serena’s fantasy baseball team, but feel better, Baby Jesus.

7:05 pm. Mr. Softee just drove by and we got excited.

As you might have noticed from Serena’s letter to Barry Zito, Zito is now on the 15-day DL with a right foot sprain. He’d been pulled in the 2nd inning of last night’s game after he landed funny on his foot while fielding a ball in play (we’d wager a bet that the moustache made him off balanced). He ended up leaving the clubhouse on crutches with a swollen ankle. This will end his personal streak of 356 regular-season starts without having missed one.

Until we meet again, TBB fans, “bad stache, bad stache, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when the razor comes for you? The stache ain’t gonna get you no play. The facial hair police gonna take you away. It’s so bad! So bad!”

It’s 7:26 pm. We’re now discussing the finer points of Michael Westin’s body (Burn Notice).