Dear Larry (a.k.a. President Summers):

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written, but you know how things go—midterm here, paper there, and a few snowstorms later it’s March. But it’s very important that we open the lines of communication again.

I last wrote to you in May (The RaHooligan, May 16th, 2001), before you had assumed office, and I told you that the first thing you needed to do as president of Harvard University was to buy the Red Sox. I had laid out a perfect plan of how doing so would eliminate the thorny problems that your predecessor, Mr. Rudenstine, left for you in a stinking pile on the front porch of Mass. Hall.

Needless to say, you ignored my advice and allowed those conniving Major League bigshots, John Henry et al., to step in and make the purchase. Perhaps you were so wrapped up in drafting your installation speech, Larry, that you just forgot. Or maybe you weren’t convinced of my comprehensive plan to destroy the PSLM, strengthen undergraduate education and fill up empty Allston acres with a new Fenway Park.

In any case, you dropped the ball. And now, in retrospect, I’m going to cast back, and show you how all the problems you’ve had to deal with in your first nine months in office would have been solved had you simply gone ahead and bought the Red Sox:

First, Larry, let’s talk about the image problem. The way I see it, your run-ins with all these high-falutin’ faculty have put you in the New York Times, Time and Newsweek, a.k.a., the “CBS crowd.” Had you purchased the Red Sox, imagine what type of p.r. you’d have then! The cover of Sports Illustrated! ESPN.com! Even Maxim would have written about you—minus the nine-page photo spread.

One of the most complex issues that has arisen recently is your relationship with the Afro-American studies department. Professor Anthony Appiah ran off to Princeton, and it seems everyone’s willing to follow. It looked like you were impotent and unable to build a bridge to the black academic community.

Now imagine Harvard owns the Red Sox, and you’re pulling the strings. Of course: “Fletcher University Professor Cornel West ’74 Bobblehead Toy Day”! Bridge crossed!

Being intimately involved with the Red Sox organization would have allowed you ultimate access to the players and coaches on the team. This clearly could have been beneficial in your handling of the Latino studies question. Who could have questioned your commitment to the program with a framed picture of you and Pedro Martinez of the Red Sox shaking hands hanging on the wall?

Larry, if you’re banging your head against the wall at this point, please stop and read on.

One admirable thing you’ve stuck your neck out for is the ROTC program. For your stance on this issue, you’ve taken a lot of flak from campus leftist-types. They don’t see, the way you and I do, the need for such a program to be supported by the administration. All this acrimony could have been avoided, however, in three easy steps:

1) give free Sox tickets to these anti-ROTC pinko-liberals,

2) seat them in the bleachers next to rowdy, drunk fans during an excruciating loss to the Yankees,

3) watch with glee as these Harvardians get pummeled, crying for help all the way! That’ll show them that we need protection!

There are a host of other minor issues that could have been swept away with one little signature on a $600 million check to the Yawkey Trust. With a little imagination, Larry, your approval ratings could have reached George W. Bush levels.

All in vain, I suppose, as I watch John Henry and that guy who invented “Third Rock from the Sun” pretend they give a damn about the Red Sox. While you were playing Red Rover during halftime of the Penn football game, pants dangling around your ankles, you could have at least tried to buy the Sox.

Well, Larry Summers, this will probably be our last communiqué for a while, though I must say it’s been an awfully one-sided dialogue. Soon spring training will be over, spring fever will hit campus, and the PSLM crazies will be out demanding $20 an hour and free toppings.

Good luck, my friend.

Sincerely,

The RaHooligan