* Fan mail

Dear Joe,

Welcome to LA.

Tommy Lasorda is thrilled about your arrival. Now you have someone to talk to in Italian. Too bad he canceled the parade for you, but when he found out he couldn’t be in the lead car… well, we all knew you’d understand. Hey, at least you don’t have to wash and wax Steinbrenner’s Rolls-Royce anymore, not to mention picking up the Boss’s dry cleaning.

But let’s talk baseball, because I think you’ve got the right attitude for the Dodgers. It took nerve to tell Frank McCord he couldn’t play in the outfield. It took guts to send the pitcing staff back to the Dominican Republic to work the sugarcane fields.

By the way, if you find yourself at a Hollywood party and things get a little wild, hit a few pop flies into the living room and yell, “I’m under it!”

If you meet big stars — say Leo DiCaprio — give him a Dodger hat and tell him to go away.

And if George Steinbrenner shows up, throw yourself on the floor and say, “George, what happened?”

I know you’re gonna do great for the Dodgers. If you don’t always have winning seasons, don’t worry — you can always go back to your old job tying up boats in Capri.

<signed> Your pal

Mr. Baseball

* * *

Dear Babe,

Everybody claims they were at the ballpark the day you hit your sixtieth home run, but I actually was there. My uncle Saul told me we had great seats, but we were so high up in the bleachers, pilots waved at us.

Didn’t mater. It was still a thrill. As the game went on, over the loudspeaker came the words, “NUMBER THREE…BABE RUTH!” I got so excited that my pants dropped off and fell three rows past the guy hawking cotton candy.

Suddenly a tremendous crack of the bat. Then a screeching sound. As I saw the ball zooming right at me, I knew this could be the souvenir of a lifetime. Unfortunately, I forgot my glove, so I hid under Uncle Saul. But he ducked, and the next thing I knew I was at Presbyterian Hospital mumbling, “Where’s the Babe?”

Hope this true story amuses you as you lounge on a fluffy cloud, eating a Baby Ruth.

<signed> Your biggest fan,

Don Rickles

From his new book Rickles’ Letters (Simon and Schuster)