July 16, 2011, Tampa Bay:
Motherf$%ker taking me out of the game… I still got some steam… garghh.
Look, I think I speak for my teammates when I say enough with the horseshit whining.
But the coach took me out.
Because you suck. Man up and grow a beard already.
Huh?
Just grow a f$%king beard, pebble nuts.
July 22, 2011, Boston:
Seven strong innings and just one earned run for Lackey, who is “en fuego” as the Spanish folks who live approximately one full tank of gas from the border of my neighborhood say.
What now, beard?
Tip your cap, hit the f$%king showers, and be thankful I was here to keep you from being “the guy who the Mariners broke their skid on.”
Right. Right.
Good call on the beard. I was gonna tell him to carve himself down to about 5’9″, but I like your idea better, Youk.
Keep yer knife handy. If I see him go for a razor while he’s winning, he loses his “hand” privileges.
Cue… the music of victory.
