Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

I don't know how you are doing this ninja mind control on Steve and getting him to ignore my calls and emails. I mean I know you can block it with the help of ESPN who has that secret room in Bristol, Conneticut that we were never allowed in. I always thought it was where Chris Berman went to get his Cleveland Steamers from his production assistants but now I know it must have the mind control machine that controls the microchips that they implant in all ESPN personal. Otherwise how could you have so many of them picking the Phillies over the Yankees. So I know you are in cahoots with ESPN to block Steve's mind to stop him from contacting me.

Me. I know he loves ME. MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I wanted to give you a picture of what I looked like the first time Steve and I did it in the parking lot at Fenway Park. I am so hot. Steaming hot. Just like a Cleveland Steamer that Chris Berman had on his manboobs on Superbowl Sunday. I knew it was true love when he asked me to give him a lift to his hotel and as soon as he got in the car he grabbed my head and pushed it down to his lap and made me polish his knob and all. He said that was the best sex he ever had ....that day...but I know he meant forever and ever and ever.

I know Steve is at the winter meetings. They won't let me in the hotel and I am forced to stay out on the street with the autograph hounds and the groupies and Pete Rose. But I know Steve is in there using his contacts to get a new job with another team so he can use the expertise that built the Mets into the Juggernauts they are today. That's what he called my titties you know. The Jugger-nots. He liked them because they were meaty and healthy and not phony like the ones he had to buy for you. Bitch.

So this is the last chance I am giving you. If you don't let Steve call me I might have to do something drastic. So think it over. I am sure you will do the right thing. If you want to make it to spring training.

Toodles,

your pal,

Brooke Hundley