I’ve decided that I have to break-up with Major League Baseball. These past few seasons of major play have left me feeling empty inside and with an inexplicable urge to take a drug test. The storm of steroids may have subsided but not before it injected me with skepticism high-balled with disappointment. And the high-end players’ salaries have me wondering if they only play for the money..they wouldn’t do that to me, would they? Sigh. I don’t feel like I have a choice at this moment so here is public notice of my private break-up.

I hope they don’t try to woo me back next year with reduced-price tickets to Safeco Field or a two-for-one on peanuts and crackerjacks because like a jilted lover scheming revenge, I fully empower myself to resist the handsome product-endorsement machines who will rotate up to bat.

But with my new resolve firmly in my back pocket, I’ve decided that I’m going back to my first love next season. I’m sure that Minor League Baseball has pined for me to return to the cracked, wooden bleachers of my youth. They loved me enough then to set me free, all the while knowing self-assuredly that I would become disgusted with the glam and glitz of the majors and one day return to the farm leagues.

Now for a plea to the Portland Beavers and Eugene Emeralds - please take me back. I’m sorry for abandoning you and I’m asking for good sportsmanship on your part. I promise to bring everyone I know to the game when the Las Vegas 51s come to town so we can boo like there’s no tomorrow when they’re at bat. You will hear me sing so loudly at the 7th inning stretch and you’ll be uber-impressed. I will do the hokey-pokey, sport the foam finger, catch the T-shirt from the T-shirt launcher-thingy, hug the mascot, buy the cap, basically whatever it takes. Please remember the days when I was a poor college student who sat on the highway overpass with binoculars to watch you play because I couldn’t afford a ticket. Let me dig out the faded T-shirts from giveaways of yore to prove my fealty. I’ve learned my lesson and won’t let myself get mixed up with those bad, bad major league boys again.