Can I get your name, please?


I am Lear.


And your qualifications?


I am the King of Britain.
And father as well to three;
the fair Goneril, Regan and Cordelia.
Although only two will share the bounty of the throne.


Uh. Any baseball experience?


Aye, a brief stint overseeing the Mariners’ double-A affiliate that I’d rather not discuss.


I’ll cut right to the chase. We’re coming off a bad stretch. A manager who didn’t command respect. Can you command respect among your players?


For no man is lower than he whose men
do not stand at attention at mere utterance of his name.
No ghosts of Hobson or Morgan or Grady haunt me;
Vile things turn precious as ere I direct them.
Have faith: the only drinking the malevolent Lackey will do
during game time is ale filtered through a camel’s ass.


Right. Well, just to get an idea of your style, we’d like to have you run through a scenario with one of our players. This is Kevin Youkilis.


Hi.


As you were, knave.


Huh?


Okay, it’s the bottom of the ninth, we’re down by a run with two outs and a man on second. What do you tell Youk before he heads to the plate?


Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!


“Crack your cheeks”!? This ain’t Frankie Goes to Hollywood, buddy.


My player is bespoke.
By treason’s tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit:
Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope.
This cursed AL East is lost to us.


Let’s try something else. Pretend Dustin’s on second with two outs and our leading RBI guy at the plate. What do you call for?


Rumble thy bellyful! Spit fire! spout rain!


So that’s… run on contact?


Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:
Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so
That heaven’s vault should crack.


You–you’re scaring me.


Somehow… I get the feeling that this isn’t going to work.


I concur. A king needs an army.
When his men are unprepared for blows,
they are something less than men.
They are the Pittsburgh Pirates.


::whispers:: He keeps saying “blows”. What up with that?


Find another to lead this motley bunch.
But I will leave you with this:
If it be you that stir these players’ hearts
Against their manager, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not players’ weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man’s cheeks!


Thanks. We’ll be in touch.


Also, what the f$%k is “bespoke”?