All I Want for Christmas....

Dear Santa,

You're dead to me. Going on twenty-four years now. In the literal sense anyway.

I remember the day the North Pole imploded. The day I learned you were a fraud. In that one moment, my sense of wonder gone forever. A nuclear winter at age six.

But now, a quarter century later, I'm prepared to give you a chance to make amends. We'll call it reparations for your fraudulent days.

I will candidly admit that your non-existence may hurt my chances, in this, my Christmas request. But I've decided to give you a shot anyway, even if the odds are a billion to one ("so you're telling me there's a chance"). Besides I've been nice this year, and at my age, naughty deserves recognition as well.

So without further adieu, here's my Christmas request.

Someday, I'd like a press pass to The Masters and The Kentucky Derby, so that I can write about the two sporting events which I love more than all the others combined. I want access to the Augusta greens, faster than bikini-wax. And I went to be on the backside when dawn breaks at the Downs. I want to be there, and I want to write about all the factoids which never get mentioned.

What time you need to be at 16th for a green-side seat on Sunday. The best mint julep vendor inside Churchill Downs. The shortest line for the fabled pimento cheese sandwiches on the Augusta grounds. The astrologer on Southern Parkway who bets superfectas in the 4th race. And the U.S. Mid-Amateur winner whose every stride at Augusta feels like an answered prayer, especially through Amen Corner.

I want to write about the personalities and snippets that never get mentioned -- the stories never worthy of print.

So that's my Christmas wish Santa. See what your elves can do. In the interim I'll continue to refine my prose (if I'm allowed to call it that).

If it ever comes to be, an aging child with an affinity for KY bourbon will be grateful forever. I'll even hammer out some toys for you in the off-season. If a cotton-headed ninny-muggins like Will Farrell can earn his keep on the North Pole, I can too.