Dearest Sweet Mitchell.
I'm writing you today because I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for speaking poorly of you. You have single handedly rejuvinated a franchise that has been for 4 years, yes competitive but by Laker-land standards, mediocre, into the best team in the league.
You have weathered the criticism, put up with a temperamental superstar, and beared the stress of an angry Laker nation that stood outside of Staples with torches and pitch forks demanding that you be burned at the stake. Yet you just kept on weaving your GM magic. And now that your spell is complete, you have bewitched us all.
You make us proud to be Laker fans and somewhere, far far away... Jerry, your Sensei, is nodding in approval. Most importantly, somewhere on the proverbial plains of Andalucia, Spain, the young boy who still lives on in Pau Gasol's soul is crying tears of joy.
Yes, what you have done is that incredible. My pen exploded from the sheer number of possible lineup combinations. Productivity across the nation is at an all time low (yes, people are that excited) and frankly, the world is just a little more beautiful now that the it's just a bit more purple and gold.
Thank you Mitchell. I'm sorry. And I love you.
Sincerely,
John
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