An Open Letter to Tiki Barber

Dearest Tiki,

I am really angry with you. Okay, not really, but seriously, how long have we known each other? Ten years maybe? And never once did you tell me that you suffer from reverse-poker-face syndrome?

Don’t deny it, Tiki, I know all about it. That is the problem with our illness -- we can’t hide it. Sunday night I saw you on Football Night in America, and every time Keith Olbermann called you “T” you flinched. Not just a flinch, but you made a face that clearly said, “Really, Olbermann? Is Tiki is so hard to say you have to reduce it to T?”

I will admit, at first I was hurt. Why couldn’t you come to me about this? You know I have been advocating for this illness for sometime -- demanding the scientific community recognize our plight and work to end it. Which is when I had the best idea EVER. What has my cause been sorely lacking from its inception? No, not a cheap colored rubber bracelet that people buy and wear in show of support, but a national spokesperson. A face America can attach to this affliction. Tiki -- you are that face.

I imagine you will be in town the first week of November when your g-men take on my birds. We can hash out all the finer details then. I am just so glad, as I am sure are you, that we will finally be able to shine a national spotlight on this curse that has haunted the both of us for too long.

Kisses,

Tati