Headwarmer: The rain’s getting pretty bad. They should call this thing.

Cashman: Not just yet. Can’t let the boys leave town on such a down note.

Headwarmer: It’s 6 to 4 and we’re drowning. Give it up, you crazy as-hole.

Cashman: No! I won’t let them down. ::Dials cellphone:: Tschida? Cash here. Mister Steinbrenner thinks… one more inning.

Tschida: Anything for my friends, the Yankees*. But you realize it’s coming down at an inch a minute…

Cashman: Mister Steinbrenner would also like to remind you that he still has those Super 8 films of you in full clown make-up, pleasuring a camel.

Tschida: …er, we could probably get one more in.

Cashman: Make it so. ::hangs up:: I just want to get Jeter up there. We can crack this thing, Headwarmer. I truly feel it.

You wanna feel something? Stick to feeling on that pathetic jay-jay of yours. I’m soaked to the core!

::Go ahead hit from Jeter::

Cashman: Yes! Look, Jete’s clapping his hands in delight**. That’s the signal. ::dials Tschida:: Okay, you can end it now.

Tschida: Let’s get a tarp on this field, pronto!

Cashman: Excellent. We’re ghost like Swayze, people.

::Yankees instantly disappear from field and materialize aboard private jet::

Melvin Mora: Huh?!? He just tried to make Jeter hit so they can score one run and they can get out of here. That’s what I think!***

Cashman: Well that was close. But we avoided ending the road trip on a sour note. This gives us something to build on!

Torre: It is good to come away knowing that the last thing we did was good.

Headwarmer: This is what you’re clinging to, people? You’re eleven games out, off a 1-7 road trip, and the only thing that’s incredible about your savior, Roger Clemens, is that his baloney tits haven’t caused his uniform to burst open mid-pitch, sending buttons flying into the crowd to blind or maim priests and children.

Jeter: It felt very good to come back.

Headwarmer: You’re all crazy. Delusional! I’d rather set myself on fire than spend another day in this madhouse! ::Shakes himself as book of matches falls to the floor. Tries to reach for them:: F-ck. I forgot. No goddam hands.

Cashman: Hey, let’s get this party started! ::Takes off suit to reveal “Rock Out with Your Cock Out” T-shirt:: I’m gonna put on some Blues Traveler!

Tschida: I’ll cue that up for you right away, sir!

* * * * * * * *

* I know Tschida wasn’t the only one pulling the strings last night, but I still hold a grudge for the infamous “Phantom Tag” incident in the 1999 ALCS. The worst part, of course, was during his post-game press conference, in which he kept referring to Chuck Knoblauch as “Knobby,” as if he was gonna go hang at the corner malt shop with the fellas after the game. Deplorable.

** That’s exactly how it’s described in the AP story. Jete clapping his hands in delight. Wow.

*** Again, Mora’s exact quote. He might be on to something.