Hey rookie. Fetch me a steak. And your girlfriend.
I don’t know how they say, “Get the candy out of your ass and play ball like a goddam man” in Japanese, so you’re gonna have to follow me in American.
Get the candy out of your ass and play ball like a goddam man. When you’re on the mound, you gotta treat that thing like a f$%king turret gun. You launch the assault and you make it relentless. You don’t nibble around the plate like goddam lady mouse. You put your hands around the batter’s neck like he just pulled a gat on your lady and you don’t let go until he’s finished.
You have a chance to find yourself tied for first place tomorrow morning. That’s not an option, as I see it. You have an objective and you go for it. You’ve got two games to slap around these Tampa Bay fellas. Lackey came up big last night; now it’s your turn. Don’t f@#king blow it or I’ll have you fitted for a dress. Think I can’t do it? I still have pull in that clubhouse. Because when I walk through those doors, palms get greased and problems get solved. Trust me: you don’t want to be one of Cap’n Carl’s problems.
I think my man Dewey said it best back in 2004 when he told the guys, “Just win.”
So, just win. Tonight. And pray that Seattle bludgeons those cretins from the Bronx.
Oh, and that thing you do with your hips before each pitch? In my day, you’d get your ass spot-welded to your face for that. Just sayin’.
