THROW OUT THE tube socks, Santa.
I’ve got more than enough whites to survive another wet North Olympic Peninsula winter.
What I really want this holiday season can’t be stuffed into a stocking or thrown under the tree.
Rather, I have a few yuletide wishes of the sporting variety.
So summon up some of that Christmas magic, and give your overburdened elfin workforce a day off.
There will be no Occupy North Pole demonstration on my account.
Consider it a trade off for all the times I’ve been naughty this season (think more Bart Simpson and less Tiger Woods.)
I know you’re a busy man, Mr. Claus, so without further ado, here’s the list:
■ Ridge return — The holiday season is here and Hurricane Ridge is still hurtin’ for snow.
If we could get a couple more feet, it wouldn’t be long before skiers and snowboarders could enjoy the Ridge with the luxury of an operational rope tows.
This might fall under Jack Frost’s purview, but it never hurts to ask.
■ Pujols in peril — Maybe it’s not in the holiday spirit to wish ill on another, but perhaps there are exceptions?
After all, we are talking about a man — ex-St. Louis Cardinal slugger Albert Pujols — who broke the hearts of millions just so he could go from “wealthy” to “moderately wealthier.”
The Los Angeles Angels of Disneyland lured Pujols away from a World Series champion in a baseball crazy city with a 10-year, $254-million deal.
(You know, because a 9-year, $210-million contract was hardly appreciative enough of the future Hall of Famer.)
I’m not asking for any injuries or personal problems, Santa.
I’d just like to see Pujols’ skills diminish so abruptly that he rues the day he chose the Rally Monkey over the most loyal fanbase in all of baseball.
■ Ring for the Ferrets — The Felonious Ferrets, my fantasy football team, find themselves in the Front Porch League title game for the second year in a row.
Given all the time and effort I’ve put into making the franchise a winner — we’re talking hours of waiver wire sifting, trade talks and pre-draft strategy sessions — I think it’s only right that I come away with a championship ring.
Trust me, this isn’t about the money, Santa.
It’s about sticking it in the faces of all my old high school buddies.
(OK, and maybe it’s a little bit about the money, too.)
■ Association return — It’s been four long years since the Seattle SuperSonics left the Emerald City for dustier pastures down in Oklahoma City.
I think that’s a long enough time in professional basketball purgatory for the jewel of the Pacific Northwest — an area responsible for such NBA immortals as John Stroeder and Brian Scalabrine.
At this point, I’ll take anything; even that mess of a franchise down in New Orleans.
Just make sure NBA Commissioner David Stern isn’t running the show.
If there’s anyone who’s been naughty, it’s that guy.
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Matt Schubert is the outdoors and sports columnist for the Peninsula Daily News. His column regularly appears on Thursdays and Fridays. He can be reached at [email protected]