A letter from Kerry Wood's balls to Kerry Wood

Dear Kerry,

We met some cool balls at the bar other night. They actually used to belong to your friend Mark Prior. You know Prior, right? Don't you go shopping for tampons with that guy?

Anyway, like Prior's balls, we too haven't seen our owner in a while either. You can't pitch because you slept funny on your back? Seriously, Kerry, if any non-athlete who wasn't pampered by anyone and everyone tried to call in sick to work saying that he "slept funny on his back" would be told to get his ass in there, pronto. You are such a sally.

Actually, maybe it isn't even your back that hurts. These balls think that it is probably your arm again and this back business is Dusty and Hendry covering for your candy-ass again. Sally.

Cool, we're out. Going to hang out with Barry Bonds raisins, I mean balls.

Peace,
Your misplaced balls

A letter from Mark Prior's balls to Mark Prior

Dear Mark,

What's going on? These are your nuts writing you a letter. We haven't seen you in a while and decided to check in. Actually, we haven't seen you since you were named a "pitching prodigy" at age 11. Remember that? You left us behind that day and we were replaced with a part of the female anatomy. It's too bad, because you have some real talent. All you need are some balls.

Now, it isn't all your fault we haven't seen you in a while. You simply don't know any better. You have been babied your entire life. Any pain, scrape or bruise was dealt with by expert, overly-cautious doctors. You became a giant wuss. It is not your fault, though, you simply don't know any different. Any pain you have now you still treat like a seven year old with a skinned knee. But, like we said, it isn't your fault.

We were reading the paper the other day and read a quote from your general manager, Jim Hendry. He said, "This is just something [Prior's] going to experience from time to time -- tendinitis, bursitis, whatever you want to call it. There's a lot of people in the Hall of Fame who went out 33 times a year and didn't feel the greatest every time out."

I don't know what it looks like from up there, Mark, but from down here it looks like Hendry is calling you out as a Sally who can't pitch through pain. Maybe if we were still attached to below your midsection this wouldn't be happening. But, like we said, it's not your fault.

One last thing, Mark. Do you know where we have been for the last 13 years? We caught on with a construction worker who makes about 15 bucks an hour. He works 50-60 hour weeks and works through bad knees, a sore back, and a shoulder he has separated three times. But you know what? He has never complained once. He shows up to work every day because he needs to feed his family. That type of thing takes balls. We are proud to be his balls. If you ever feel manning up and stop being a Sally let us know, a lot of people have their hopes depended on you.

But, like we said, it's not your fault. Really, it isn't.

Sincerely,
Your Balls

Cubs: Cursed, unlucky, bad trainers, or damaged goods?

I have this friend who is probably not unlike one of your friends. For the sake of the article we will refer to him as Bob. I'll call Bob on a Tuesday and ask what he is doing the following weekend. If Bob says that "he might be able to hang out" that is Bob-code for a definite and resounding "no." If Bob says he will definitely be able to hang out, then this translates into a "maybe." If Bob says he cannot hang out at all, this is Bob-code for "I probably won't see you for a few weeks." Get my drift?

The point is: I like Bob, he is one of my good friends. I respect Bob and I enjoy hanging out with Bob, but when Bob speaks, his word is about as good as Barry Bonds, sans massive ego and roid rage.

Being friends with Bob is like being a Cub fan. I love the Cubs and will always support them - but when someone from the organization speaks I do not believe a word that comes out of their coniving lips.

Basically, I just read that Prior has "inflammation" in his elbow, which is most likely Cub-code for "you'll probably see the Fourth of July fireworks before you see Mark Prior pitch on a mound." Wood's shoulder? Cub-code tells us this means: "cancel playoff ticket orders."

I have never bought into the theory that the Cubs are cursed. I am too young to experience all of the decades of losing, and I also consider myself a sane and rational person who would not believe in curses.

But, seriously, something isn't right.

Something isn't right when your number 1 and 2 starters for the second year in a row have mysterious injuries and the fans are fed are a load of B.S..

Something isn't right when your trainers from the previous year get fired and there is one impending lawsuit.

Something isn't right that it is only March 14th and I am already having serious doubts about staying in contention past May.

Something isn't right when you haven't won a World Series in 97 years.

Is it too late to sign Matt Clement? It is? Damn.

How I would love for Hendry to say tomorrow "Wood will start Opening Day and Prior will be starting the day after."

Then again, this would be Cub-code for "We'll see them both in June."