But now, we need heroes, and here you are.
And what do we sacrifice?
Calm. Kindness. Kinship. Love.
I’ve given up all chance at inner peace. To never set foot inside PNC Park and enjoy the sight of a lush green grass, smell of popcorn and hotdogs, and hearing children clamor for a baseball or autograph.
I’ve made my mind a sunless space. I share my dreams with ghosts. I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 19 years ago from which there’s only one conclusion, Bob Nutting is the enemy.
My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight, they’ve set me on a path from which there is no escape.
There is no magical spell that can be cast to change Bob Nutting from his cheapness to a competitive spirit. There's no ghost of Christmas Past, Present, or Future that can change the outcome of a man who was raised without emotion and placed more value in a slow churning, penny paper collective than to reach for the stars.
Bob Nutting is supposed to be the caretaker, a steward of this 137-year-old civic institution.
So, I ask... what do you sacrifice?
DEMAND BOB NUTTING SELL THE TEAM
