I’m feeling good. Ready to rock the house.
Yeah, about that. I’m calling for a change of strategy.
If you win them all, as the 2011 Red Sox are quite clearly capable of doing, you become a moving target. The one everybody starts gunning for. The one everybody wants to see fall.
I don’t need that bullshit pressure. So I need your help.
Walk a shitload of batters.
That runs contrary to my Jedi training.
I understand. Also, I hear Pawtucket’s lovely this time of year.
But my teammates…
They’ll understand. Trust me.
I don’t like it. But I obey.
Good to hear. Now make me proud, Pacifier.
::Top of the second::
Take it easy, chromedome. These are the Padres. The last place Padres.
[Spanish for “Throw it over the white thing”]
SUNUVABITCH I WAS ORIGINALLY THINKING “WHAT KIND OF NAME IS ‘DENORFIA'” BUT NOW I AM WONDERING WHY I DON’T JUST CHARGE THE MOUND AND BURY A KNIFE IN YOUR SKULL.
::Sighs, walks Bartlett::
HE DID NOT JUST WALK FOUR STRAIGHT BATTERS. SWEET HOLY F$%K THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.
::Makes sign of the cross, walks Headley::
::fashions jockstrap into crude facemask; writes “for Alfredo” on it::
::shuffles back into dugout after walking in two runs:: I have shamed myself before my teammates and fans. I hope you’re happy.
Actually, I am. And don’t sweat those guys. They’re professionals.
::Later, back in the clubhouse::
…it was an off night. Anyone can have them.
Right. Anyway, we took a vote. I’m here to tie you to the floor with your own colon.
(Of course, we have nothing but respect for Alfredo. A timely hit could have made all the difference last night. But after all that The Gonz has done for us lately, to bitch about that spirit-crushing bases-loaded K to end the fourth somehow seems wrong.)