Oh, Darwin. We used to be friends. Remember those days? I would write about how amazing you were and how life would not be complete without you on the Cubs.
Well, that time is over. We are now enemies. I don't like you. In fact, I despise you. How could you go off to the Dodgers, selling your soul for good weather and a playoff appearance last year? Do you have no shame? Why did I ever take up for you? You are just like all those other people who leave and then forget who you are and who are your true friends.
It's okay, though. We understand that you "love the West Coast" and "love working for a baseball genius like Magic Johnson". Seriously, we are over it. You aren't even worth a last-round pick anymore in the fantasy world.
You and your stupid soul patch and go and live off vegan food at one of the "hottest" spots in Malibu. We, in the rest of the world, will be actually enjoying our food. It's called meat. You should try it and THEN, just maybe, you might have some power in your swing. Those three home runs and 23 RBIs don't really cut it in Tinseltown, my ex-friend.
I used to complain about you not getting enough playing time. Wow, was I an idiot. You probably played too much considering your woeful .300 on-base percentage. You would figure a guy who doesn't hit for power would at LEAST hit for average.
We will call you what you are: an offensive liability. Oh sure, your glove might be consistent and you rarely make errors. That's wonderful. However, you are less useful than an above-average pitcher at the plate. 34 strikeouts to 17 walks last year? Are you kidding us? Is this some kind of elaborate prank you and the rest of the baseball world are playing on us?
You are all but dead to me now. I used to think it was awesome to shock everyone in my fantasy round by picking you in the sixth round. Some called me crazy. Others called me insane. I stuck by you, though. You, on the other hand, didn't stick by me. I used to think that the middle name Kunane was cute. Now I think it is the act of a terrorist.
Things are going well for me, though. I have a new second baseman to profess my love for, and he is better than you. You might know him as Arismendy Alcantara. I call him my new best friend. See how much that hurts when someone else moves on? Feel the pain now, Darwin?
You, like the Todd Walkers and Jeff Bakers of the past, have now joined the list of second baseman that could never fill Sandberg's shoes. I hope that in a few years, when you are an assistant coach at some junior college in Oregon, you will look back at our years together as something special. I doubt it, though.
You are the worst and...I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! AAAAAHHHHHHHH, I'm sorry! Please come back to me! I take everything I said back! I LOVE YOU! ICH LIEBE DICH! Whatever means I love you in Japanese, just come back! We miss you! I think of you at all times! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME? WHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????????