Dear Cliff Lee

Okay, I can breathe again. I can blog again. Thank you, Texas Rangers.

A quick note to Cliff Lee:

Dear Cliff,

I know that the Yankees are going to throw a spadillion dollars at you to reunite Sabathia & Lee. I understand that, though the difference between a spadillion and 20 million is inconceivable to me, it's a ton of cash to you. And to the union too.

I'm sure you can live comfortably in LA or Cincinnati or Chicago or wherever on $20 million. I'm thinking your wife can probably shop at Whole Foods every week on that salary. If you want that OnStar system in the Lexus, Cliff, I'm thinking Scott Boras would approve. It probably won't prevent you from making those Berkshire-Hathaway investments.

Now let's talk about happiness, Cliff. You're a southern boy. New York and Boston are not like Arkansas. They tahk funny thayah. They're crazy Socialists who want to tax rich people like you. They don't care about SEC football. Heck, they don't care about college sports, period. The extra Benjamins won't change any of that.

Nor will it change the weather. You want your hands to be numb in April and October? I didn't think so, Cliff.

Remember, you won the Cy Young in Cleveland. You went to the World Series with Philly. You're back again with the Rangers. You're a hero in North Texas today. You don't need the damn Yankees. If New York were to get to the championship with you as their #2 starter, you wouldn't get much credit. C'mon, they've got CC and Mo and Jeter and ARod and Teixeira. There's not much room for Cliff. Besides, there would be no novelty in NY or Boston. People don't worship you for delivering title #28, particularly when some of your teammates were around six titles ago.

Spadilllion schmillion. Stay in Dallas, Cliff. They're practically your home team. Or maybe St. Louis or Atlanta is. They're nice places. Go to Anaheim or Seattle or Phoenix. Be the guy who saved baseball, not another sucker who went to NY for the money.

Your friend,

Waldo

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