Dear Santa Claus,
I hope you have started to recover from your big sleigh ride. I’d like to know your secret. Recovery. Just not as smooth in my little world as it once was.
Sorry I’m a few days late with this letter. That’s the way it is nowadays. Pressed for time. We don’t write many old-fashioned letters. But I couldn’t bring myself to send you a text or a tweet.
I’m overdue to say, “Thanks.” There’s no reason for an adult not to say thanks. You’re a good man, Santa Claus. Thanks.
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When I was a kid, you kept it simple. You always gave me what I wished for. Ball gloves. Bikes. Tractors. Boxing gloves. Walkie talkies. I still have that old first baseman’s mitt in the garage. I was going through my Orlando Cepeda phase at the time. Cha. Cha Cha.
You gave me some junk I didn’t want or ask for. That’s OK. Scarves. Handkerchiefs. Socks. Not sure what you were thinking. Thanks just the same.
I grew up. Had kids of my own. You have been darn good to them, too. You made their eyes twinkle like only you can.
I’ll always believe in your Santa Magic. You make kids listen and obey. You make adults act goofy. Women want to kiss you. Men imitate you. You are cooler than Sting or McCartney, LeBron or Golden State’s Stephen Curry. McQueen or Newman.
So why am I writing to you a few days after Christmas? You know how it is nowadays. No time for rest. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Don’t set your boots too far away.
I’m not trying to be greedy. Well, maybe a little bit. I’m hoping you might have some free time in 2016 before the holiday rush begins next year. If so, I’m hoping you canuse your Santa Magic to deliver a few more gifts to us all that won’t fit under a tree:
▪ Pro football stays in St. Louis.
Please erase the gray clouds that hang over pro football in St. Louis. That may mean a new stadium built downtown. I’m more sports fan than economist, but I’d like to see some new energy on the north riverfront. I’d also like to see a team that can win more than eight games per season again. And an owner who understands you have to talk to the fans once in a while and act like you enjoy making millions and millions of dollars every year. Could it be that hard?
▪ Kurt Warner runs for national elected office.
I’m looking for someone to believe in, someone to trust who looks me in the eyes and sincerely tells me the truth. Number 13. We need you. Kurt Warner for President. I’m Ok with Dick Vermeil or Isaac Bruce as his running mate.
▪ Another starting pitcher and a bat for the Cardinals.
I don’t want to react to the Cubs’ aggressiveness this off season. There are 162 games to play. Now that we’ve signed a starting pitcher to soak up innings, we still need a player or two to knock in some runs. Add a relief pitcher or two. Relief pitchers are a lot like reindeers. You never know when one is going to break down. Baseball is a lot like life itself. You can’t stand still. You can’t win the race in neutral.
▪ The Blues advance in the playoffs.
Can’t believe I’m still bitter from last year’s first-round loss in the playoffs. But I am. It stung. I wish this year’s team had a bit more spunk. Please bring us another goal scorer with the heart of a Sutter.
▪ Daylight-saving time returns forever.
Purpose will return to our evenings but not until March 13. I miss the evening bike rides and walks after work. I wish a new law would be enacted in Illinois that made DST last 12 months.
▪ Bruce Springsteen plays a few more dates in St. Louis.
His one show here in March sold out in minutes. Come on, Santa. Put some of your magic on The Boss. Talk him into giving us another show or two.
▪ A safe, sound 2016
Here’s a toast to a safe New Year’s Eve, and another year of playoff baseball for the Cards, Number 13 makes a bid for the White House, and we have sunshine and purpose to our evenings.