Who pissed in his cereal?

Mr Crisp,

I am writing this letter on behalf of every baseball fan in America (the real fans, not the Chowda Heads who root for the likes of you and Manny) to inform you that we've had enough.

In the interest of preserving the game we love, we ask that you tender your resignation immediately.
Furthermore, we the faithful of America's Past-time, also move to have your name stricken from any MLB statistical records, effectively removing you from the tomes of baseball history all together.

In speaking with Commisioner Selig (who never gets anything wrong) we've found that he too is in favor of banishing you based on your silly name alone, and all the misguided attention it draws to our great sport. He also asks that you grab Mr. Milton Bradley on your way out (no, you don't get to pass Go or collect $200 - that money will be donated to help urban development so we don't have any more little Cocoa-Krispies running amuck in these great United States).

In short we have decided that anyone so delusional as to take a cheap shot at a second baseman and then start whining about it (shouldn't the person who recieved the cheap shot be the one who is angry?) and mouthing off to an elderly fellow from the safety of your own dug-out, then move on to the following day and proceed to charge the mound when poor Mr. Shields was doing nothing more than upholding the time-honored tradition of baseball symmetry, does not deserve a place in America's sport.

Upon reviewing the tape of last night's brawl the League has determined that you are indeed the world's luckiest fellow: considering that you narrowly avoided a broken orbital bone at the hands of a pitcher, nearly suffered three broken ribs thanks to Mr. Gomes, and missed a broken nose and cracked mandible from Mr. Crawford by the slightest of margins.
You should take this stroke of luck as a sign that you should get out now while you can before your luck turns.
There is no dishonor in resigning, you know. After all discretion is the better part of valor. Then again valor doesn't seem to be your strong point now does it?

Do baseball fans, Americans, and the world in general a huge favor and disappear. Go find Scott Norwood and live happily ever after.

Please, we beg you- go.
Now.
What are you still doing here. Go!


Love Deeply,

Everybody