How dare you?
You couldn’t just leave me be. Just when I finally got a handle on my love/hate relationship with you, that is I finally jumped off the fence to the hate side, you go and do this.
PittGirl hates crying. There are two body functions I can totally do without. One of them is vomiting and the other is crying.
So you must have known. You must have known how truly aghast and tormented I was by this story. This poor woman. This poor child. You can see it in the mom’s eyes. She still cries every single day.
And you go and do what you can to make it a little better for them, because you know that it will never actually BE better. Ever. You give him five. You pat his back. Even though he’s about as high as your ankle, you find a way to talk up to him. You be frickin’ awesome and you make PittGirl cry.
And if that wasn’t enough, you invite the kiddo to training camp, promise to take him into the locker room and let him take any pictures he wants. (Ethan, I don’t need to tell you that a few naked pics of Troysus will be appreciated by the entire female population of Earth.)
So Benny, my purpose for this letter is just to let you know that wherever you are on the planet today, that somewhere in downtown Pittsburgh, PittGirl is shaking her fist at you for making her cry … you fug, gross, beautiful, awesome bastard.