Folks, I had a number of visions during my 15 minutes of sleep last night. One vision was a 72-zip U-of-M victory over the Ohio State Buckeyes this Saturday. The evidence? A charred and blood-soaked Horseshoe, the deeply anguished holy spirit of the one and only Woody Hayes, a dismembered Brutus Buckeye, and the teeth of the actually-dead Dead Schembechlers strung from the goal posts. I can hear them flapping and rattling in the breeze, a windsock signaling brutal defeat.

Another thing I saw was the grin on Sean Casey’s face as he was rightfully crowned the American League’s Most Valuable Player of 2006. Had it not been for the timely acquisition of Casey, the Tigers would have spent the playoffs licking their wounds instead of their chops. Jesus criminy. Casey’s multiple injuries this past season would’ve claimed the lives of many mortal men, but he stuck it out like a true smash-mouth athlete and was always there whenever his team truly needed him. Holy smokes, people. Had it not been for Casey’s reliable bat, the Tigers would’ve hit .160 in the World Series. That’s not just impact. That’s carrying the whole damn team on your bruised back. Had his teammates not let him down, the Tigers would’ve taken the damn thing and the World Series MVP trophy would’ve gone to a real man — and not to some scurrying, shotputting, pasty-faced version of Paco Martinez’s dead little punk friend.

I’ll tell you about another essential component possessed by Casey that never gets factored into these freakshow award spectacles. That would be character. When I was strolling through campus with Casey one late October day, some liberal longhair pansy had the nerve to yell, “Hey — 7-3, can’t you afford a Rascal?!” The pansy was referencing Casey’s ground-out to the left-fielder during this past season, as well as a rolling coffin I have refused to use myself. After I got in the pansy’s face and threatened to rip out his tongue and cram it up the ass-end of his alimentary canal, Casey had the grace to ask him if he had accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior. He then gave the pansy his testimony. The pansy apologized and walked off with a fresh copy of the Bible signed by Casey. They don’t call him the Mayor for nothing, folks. That the Mayor happens to be an insatiable maddog champion on the field makes him all the more remarkable.

I implore the voters to do the right thing and go for Sean Casey as 2006’s MVP of the American League. While you’re at it, punch this man’s ticket for the Rustbelt Hall of Fame. He’s been through New Jersey, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and now Michigan. He has won the hearts of each and every citizen of this glorious region, so someone out there needs to make it happen. You chumps only wish you could sniff his bags.

Motivational speaker and self-proclaimed medical miracle Bo Schembechler was the president of the Detroit Tigers from 1990 through 1992. During his tenure, he was either partly or entirely responsible for the firing of Ernie Harwell and the drafting of several future NFL players. From 1992-2005, the Tigers suffered through an unbroken streak of losing seasons, otherwise known as the after-effect of Schembechler’s administration.