It’s that time of year again. The turkeys are going on sale, the menorah candles are being opened, the non-flammable mock-pine reindeer sculptures are coming out of their boxes and the mall employees are drinking more alcohol than is healthy to help boost their coping mechanisms. The holiday season is here and the gift buying, giving and receiving are all flying faster than Prince Fielder running to the snack bar. We all have our ideas of what the Angels should be looking for as a team this offseason, but maybe we should take a look at what the players themselves are asking old St. Nick for this Christmas:
Dear Santa,
I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been getting better every year since I had, um, issues a few years ago. The thing is, my batting average has deteriorated almost as quickly as I’ve improved! You gotta help me Santa! Give me my badass slugging power back!
In Christ,
Josh H.
Dear Santa,
I'm not sure I should even ask this since it seems so petty, but it's something I really want and I hope you can help. This year, I won 6 more games than Jered, I threw more strikeouts, AND I earned more fantasy baseball points. It seems like the writing's on the wall, but for some reason no one's talking about it. So I ask you, Mr. Kringle, can I possibly be the "Ace" next season?
Thank you!
C.J.
Dear Santa,
I don't need a gift so much as a reference. As you know, I’m not the spry youth I used to be. This old body ain’t bouncing back like it could before. You fly all over the world, you MUST know the guys that built the machine to make Captain America all buff and healthy when he was a little stick man, right? I'm not looking for an all-over rebuild like that, but if I could hop in that machine for like 5 minutes, I'd be good to go.
Feliz Navidad!
Albert P.
Dear Santa,
If you give C.J. Wilson my "Ace" position, I'll break Rudolph's nose with a fastball when you fly over Long Beach. Don't test me, fatty.
-Jered.
Dear Santa,
This is embarrasing, but I’m not sure who else to ask. I think Coach Scioscia needs some laxatives. It’s not the kind of thing someone would ask for, but it’s apparently fallen to me to speak up. Coach and Mr. Moreno keep talking about trading me to “get some relief”! They don’t need to get rid of me, I’ll run to CVS or something if you can’t help them get relief! I can definitely understand their pain. Stadium nachos do things to a man that he can’t rightly speak of in a letter to a mythological symbol of the holidays.
Thanks a million! (and hurry, please!)
Mark T.
Dear Santa,
Let's skip the formalities fat man. At this point, I'm willing to believe that you just have "Mike" and "Miguel" next to each other on one of your organizational lists and you've somehow sent my MVP trophies to Miggy by mistake two years in a row. So this year, I want you to look at your lists very, VERY closely and get it right next year. I can hit a ball over 400 ft, you'd be surprised what I can do to that cherry nose of yours, cookie cruncher.
Best Wishes,
Mike T.
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