Imagine the following was written on parchment in fountain pen black, rolled into a scroll, sealed in wax, and delivered to your front door by a breathless courier astride an unruly horse:

Dear 67MARQUEZ,

I compose this missive by the light of a single dwindling candle, and deep in my bones I feel the looming winter chill, portending the onslaught of the Armies of Rosterbation.

I am, alas, only a modest man leading a modest life. I know not the mysteries of Fate, and I am able to grasp but a fleeting echo of the immutable music of the universe.

Nevertheless, I must implore you, amidst the cacaphony of time and space and duplicative fanposts, to complete your Rickey Henderson Anthology with as much haste as you can muster. Now is the time for wise and courageous peoples to stand firm against those bellowing, wicked beasts, cloaked in zeroes and ones and evil intentions, that go by names I dare not utter aloud. ZiPS. Marcel. PECOTA. Grendel.

Godspeed, 67MARQUEZ.

Sincerely,
74mk

Okay, reset.

Imagine a battered blue and white R2 unit shows up at your door. It beeps and burbles and rocks excitedly. You pry its faceplate open and fiddle around with a screwdriver.

A hologram of baseballgirl appears. She sports a strange double cinnamon bun hairdo.

She beseeches you:

“67MARQUEZ, for many months you’ve loyally served Blez in the war against single-minded rosterbatory tedium on AN. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the spreading Holliday Lineup Permutation Freak Out. I regret that I am unable to present Blez’s request in person, or even in the form of a blog comment, but if I were to do so 74mk’s silly Star Wars schtick would break down completely. I have placed a mint condition 1980 Topps Rickey Henderson card in the glove compartment of this R2 unit. Blez will know how to retrieve it. You can do whatever you want with this droid, but for the love of God finish writing your Rickey tribute ASAP. This is our most desperate hour. Help us, 67MARQUEZ, you’re our only hope. Well. Perhaps not ‘only’. But, you know, among the few in any case.”

Final reset. No imagining necessary:

I enjoy all these discussions about who we should sign and why and if we should pull the trigger on imaginary trades involving Trevor Cahill, multiple C prospects, Brian Giles, and cash, and whether Rafael Furcal’s hypothetical fourth year option should be for $10.1 million or $10.3 million.

It’s all interesting stuff, and I have emerged from it feeling reasonably educated about the A’s present roster and alternatives for improvement. However, I estimate it will take only 2-3 additional Holliday-centric fanposts to land me in a colorless padded room somewhere, strapped to a metal board with a rubber slab between my teeth and wires sticking out of my forehead.

So stop diddling around on Raiders blogs (and, like, working and/or spending time with your family), and finish the long ago promised Rickey Henderson post.

Thanks.