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I will remember you....

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Dear Mr. Tomas Perez and Mr. Brian Meadows

    It brings me great disdain to write this letter under these circumstances, as you know I've kept in touch with both of you over the months for your performances on the Rays. The worst of days has came however, with both of your futures murky like the waters of a landfill, not that I'm comparing you to trash...your not, you both are just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, the fish bowl of Major League free agency.
    Let me first address you Tomas, you splendid switch hitter who is a career .240 hitter. Oh how I remember your days with the Phillies and Jays, and remember back in May you toted a pink bat on Mother's Day. You were once traded for Dave Hollins, stuck around because you were good with your Rawlings.
You probably had the game of your life when you went 5-5 in New York, or when you...ugh...well at least you have nicknames, like Nomas (since you speak Spanish I'm sure you get the dig, No Mas means `no more'.) Don't cry now Tomas, you've still got pie throwing, and now with a little help from the Rays it looks like you'll have a lot of extra time to master the technique.
Now you Sir Meadows, don't hang your head low. Your only 30, your dream isn't over, it's just that you need to find a way over, or under should we say the 5 ERA mark, which of 8 years you've posted it 6 times. You failed at starting, middle relief was bad, somehow you were 8/8 save wise, but we'll just chalk that up to dumb luck, the same luck that will land you somewhere nice and shiny ("Mr. Meadows, Ned Colleti on line one.")
In closing, we both knew this day was coming. It's not you it's me, as I and the rest of Rays nation bid adieu, farewell and let us hope you don't stumble on your way out.

PS: On your way out please share a few dollars with Chuck `Chuckles' Lamar, he'll be on the side of the road, looking very scruffy.

PS again : Also, if you could get a bucket of KFC for Emperor Toad....er, Vincent Naimoli, he doesn't look starved, or even human, but he huts in a place that only chicken grease can touch.

                        (un)Sincerely,
                        D Ray Bay's Staff