Dear Mr. Goff,
Thank you for your letter, Steve. Can I call you Steve?
Let me answer that for you. Damn skippy I can call you Steve. I make Warren Buffett look like Jimmy Buffett – hell, I make him look like Hometown Buffet. I'll call you Susie if I feel like it. So seeing as I can turn the whole god-damned Washington Post into a blue Valu-Pak mailer, what say you call me Mr. Anschutz.
Thank you for your helpful lesson on public relations. Let me tell you something, Jamie. The economy is up Sh*t Creek, and I'm the only paddle salesman in town.
I have a job. You have a job. My pawns on the soccer plantation? As of this sentence, they have jobs. Although if I get an inch in my Fruit of the Looms, that could all change.
You know who doesn't have a job? Millions of our fellow citizens. Most of whom would have to chug an Ex-Lax mocha in order to give a crap about soccer in the first place. You tell the average piece of chewing gum on the sidewalk that hundreds of men are being paid to play Commieball, and they'll be shocked. Then tell them they're not happy with their job.
Hell, it makes me weep just thinking about it. Let's you and I hold a telethon about it. Let's tell the Red Cross, "Hey, hold up on Haiti. The MLSPU wants guaranteed contracts."
I'm a heartfelt, devout Christian, but Jesus pimpin' Christ and his stable of mixed-race hos – you think this is about public relations?
Guess what, Paul. I'm way ahead of you.
I hate to contradict the late Mario Puzo, but I like my enemies nice and far away. Keep your enemies closer? How has that worked out for Poland over the years?
This is why Garber's a better don than Corelone, not simply because he can smuggle illegal cigars. Who are the three most famous MLS players?
1. David Beckham
2. Landon Donovan
3. No one who has convinced me to waste a minute's thought on free agency.
Where are numbers 1 and 2, in this time of MLS players' greatest trial? The wrong country, the wrong continent, the wrong hemisphere. You think after the crap I took last year from the god-damned Italians, that I'd let my mouthy kids stay later at the mall without a very good reason?
Maybe, just maybe, if David and Donovan were in Los Angeles, they might have drawn attention to how big and thick my whip is. They've got other fish to fry, though, and they're on my boat doing it.
Landon used to be a player rep, for ********'s sake. Now he's farting around for a tenth-place team, the soccer press is completely agog over it, and it's totally upstaged the union. Someone's gonna have to report on our little labor talks in order for people to be up in arms about it – no offense, Greg, but someone who matters. We both know you ain't knocking hockey off the front page with this weak tea.
Hell, whose opinion are you hoping to change, Kyle? BigSoccer posters? Every single one of them would hold my puppyskin coat while I nibble my bald eagle kebab in exchange for the change in my dryer.
It's a World Cup year. I'm getting paid. I assume you're getting paid too, Ives. MLS can go dark this whole year for all I care. You think I need to keep cutting checks for Luis Angel Landin's pancake budget? Guess again.
We'll just start it up again in the fall, have a short season, maybe have MLS Cup in the snow in December. Won't be me out there shivering my ass off.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a meeting with Tim about the LA Sol. I think this year we're gonna win it all!
Phillip F. Bignutz
King of the Wild Frontier