It has come to my attention that you have once again been placed on the DL, this time with an issue with your arm. As a human being, I will gladly say that I am dissapointed that this has happened to you. I know that you are well-liked in the clubhouse and the last thing you want to do is let the team down by not being there for them. I also understand that you have decided that while you're on the DL, that you're going to contemplate ending your career. Know that as a fan, I feel that your contributions to this team as a clubhouse leader played a significant role in raising the morale of the collective group, injecting confidence in their own abilities, which in turn allowed the team to turn around a history of failure and bring excitement about the game of Baseball back to the Tampa Bay Area for the first time since 1998. For this, I am truely thankful.

That being said, I'd also like to note that as a fan, I would greatly appreciate it if you absolutely never, ever, took the mound again. Your performance for the Rays for the last calendar year has been at best, unremarkable, and at worst, capable of starting riots. Please understand, I don't dislike you, I find your demeanor quite humorous, and I love your gritty-white-guy spirit as much as the next white guy, but God Damn It, I can't stand to watch you pitch. I'm seriously surprised that the Rays haven't contractually obligated you to change your entrance music to The Funeral March. Your location is awful, and your antics when you're being pulled cross the line of a guy who wants to finish what he's started to a guy who is crying like a baby whose just had his toy taken away from him. We're cheering on the Rays, hoping they make a repeat appearance in the playoffs, and frankly, your performance is doing far more harm then your presence does good.

Just understand, this isn't personal, it's all about the game. Do the right thing. Hang up your cleats, let the Rays give you a front-office job where we can talk to you in public about last season, and you can tell all those grizzled veteran stories with the unique panache that only you bring; or hell, go back and sit in your comfy lay-z-boy, crack open a Natty Ice, grab a handful of beer nuts and watch the game from the confines of your home. It's your choice. Just don't. Come. Back.