Open letters to people you have never met is such a cheap sportswriting device that most people who employ them ought to be forced to work weekends for the Postal Service catching packages dropped from six-story windows.
Thus, think of this as a shrieking harangue to Mark Cuban and Steve Ballmer instead.
Gentlemen, start your lawyers.
And I don’t mean just whatever legal flotsam and jetsam you have hanging around the office. I want loud, brash, obnoxious, bite-you-til-the-legs-come-off lawyers, the ones who when they turn up on your television make you donate your retinas to the SPCA.
Jeff Kessler, Gloria Allred, Rusty Hardin, Nancy Grace – bring ‘em all. We as a nation have met and speak with one voice here – we want you to sue each other into the next five generations.
And we want you to do it knowing that you’re suing over DeAndre Jordan.
Now we are not all lawyers ourselves, but we assume that as the injured party, Mark has to sue first. But it should be broad, far-reaching and demands damages in the value of Steve’s full personal worth. And then we want Steve to go on television and scream like a harpie sitting on a spike and sue in response.
We want it on television where we can all see and enjoy. We want it streamed to those who have given up TV, and we want it on radio for those whose eyes have gone wonky from having seen too many Knicks and 76ers games.
And we want it to take us into lockout season so we can enjoy you rather than it.
[RELATED: Mavs owner Mark Cuban speaks out on Jordan's change of heart]
We are sure your legal people can drum five or six test cases that go beyond mere tampering and handshake law. We want this to get to the Supreme Court because now that Antonin Scalia is a must-read, we want him all in on this. We want centuries-old linguistic references, we want sentences that turn into an ouroboros right on the page, we want entire paragraphs of just consonants. We want it to read aloud like a liquored-up Bulgarian auctioneer, or Andres Cantor on crank.
We want it all. And we know you can deliver.
Steve can deliver because he sent an entire posse to hole up with Jordan Wednesday to make sure he reneged on his deal with Mark. And Mark can deliver because he is Shark Tank, and he has to deal with people wanting to mass-produce and sell nuclear-powered bird feeders called “The Pterodactyl Cafeteria” on television.
With a bunch of other people nobody else gives a damn about. And he’s not afraid to pick a fight either.
Oh, and if possible, we would like it to be so contentious and constant that Adam Silver is left with two life choices – pulling off his own head or calling Donald Sterling for guidance.
This is the only way neither Mark nor Steve can look weak and snivelly and spineless. Court, forever, and enough lawyers to keep a bonfire going for decades. Steve is used to getting his own way from his days of planet-eating at Microsoft, and Mark has a lot of stored-up resentments from all the times David Stern confiscated his keg.
This has to happen, and it has to happen for the best reason ever – a lifetime 41 percent free throw shooter who thinks his eight points per game entitles him to have more of the team’s offense run through him.
Do not let us down, you two. If you can’t sue another rich guy into poverty or die trying, there’s no reason for you to have money at all. America demands this. Do not make us call Donald Trump.