There's something I have to get off my chest, I just can't stand it any longer. It involves some sort of dinosaur-looking mutation that has been scuttling around Coors Field during the recently concluded World Series.

If you have read any of my material since I began blogging on this site nearly two years ago, I have two things to say to you:

1) Thank you very much, you have no idea how much I appreciate it.
2) You really need to get a more worthwhile hobby.

Anyway, my point is this. If you have read my stuff, I think you'll agree that I try to be gracious when the teams I root for win as well as when they lose. I don't see any reason to get all aggressive with other people just because the Red Sox won the World Series, one, because I had nothing to do with it, and two, because it's classless.

So you won't find any gloating here, Rockies fans. In fact, quite the opposite. I was eight years old when the Sox lost to the Cardinals in the Series in 1967, sixteen when they lost to the Reds in '75, and 27 when they lost to the Mets in '86, so I can feel your pain. I remember very well how hard it is to take to see your team so close to a championship only to have your hopes dashed.

But here's the thing. What in the world is the deal with Dinger? You know, that fuzzy dinosaur-looking thing with the multicolored spots on his head that passes for a mascot up there in the mile-high stratosphere? What in the name of Vinny Castilla does a dinosaur have to do with the Colorado Rockies specifically or baseball in the Rocky Mountains in general? Do people in Denver feel Dinger is some sort of mutation to be shunned or is he beloved in some perverse way?

Don't misunderstand, the Red Sox have their own wierd, fuzzy mascot called Wally the Green Monster that adds absolutely nothing to the game of baseball, so I'm not trying to pass judgement. In fact, I wrote a post way back on April 26, 2006 (Wanted, One Hideous Tiger-Like Mutant), where I called Wally an "asexual lump of shag carpeting left over from your parents 1974 living room," so I'm not being an insufferable homer here. Or at least, not a homer.

But at least the "Green Monster" reference in Wally's name makes sense in a saccharine, gag-me-with-a-pitchfork, all-the-eight-year-old-girls-love-him kind of way. You know, Wally the Green Monster referring to the big green monster looming over left field at Fenway. What does Dinger represent, other than all the home runs that used to be hit in the thin air at Coors field in the prehistoric pre-humidor days? Maybe that's it.

But when Dinger started sitting behind home plate hexing Jonathan Papelbon while spinning his head 360 degrees on his neck (The mascot, that is, not Papelbon), it disturbed me in a way nothing else has in a long time. My wife was furious. "He can't do that," she exclaimed indignantly, but there he was, hexing and spinning away. It didn't seem to bother Papelbon, but I couldn't take my eyes off it.

Please, Colorado Rockies management, put Dinger out of my misery and consider coming up with some new fuzzy, asexual lump of shag carpeting mascot. He can even run Wally the Green Monster over on an ATV, like Raymond, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays mascot, does when the Red Sox play in Tampa. That would be fine by me. Just promise me no more head spinning and hexing. It's just plain creepy.