“Great game tonight, guys. And I really appreciate the runs. I mean, seriously. When the bats get all f$%knasty–I’m looking at you, Aviles–it’s good for business. But when I come back into the clubhouse after a win, you know how I like to roll. Pants off, beers open, a little Jason Aldean blasting through the speakers, and a chalice of fresh elk’s blood waiting by my locker.
I understand, however, that we’re a team. And that there are some of you who find post-game comfort in the tunes of Jason Mraz. And I’m fine with that. You may have noticed that I even tapped my foot a bit during ‘I’m Yours.’ Hell, I’ll admit that when that song was followed by another Mraz tune, ‘Sleeping to Dream,’ I actually felt some of the homicidal tendencies that have long held residence in my brain start to dissipate.
Once that song ended, however, I figured that was enough. Some of you may have even heard me say, ‘Now how about some real f$%king music before I punch someone in the testicles.’ But you should understand that it was said more in jest than anything else. I mean, jesus christ, I was holding a roast beef sandwich and a Heineken at the time. You guys know I never mix violence and eating.
I did enjoy hearing more of that Mraz Magic in the form of “Butterfly” and “A Beautiful Mess” as I ate my post-game meal, pausing occasionally to vomit into my cleats and shout, ‘F#$k god almighty, one of you motherf#$kers really loves his Jason Mraz!’
Anyway, I don’t know what came over me when ‘Wordplay,’ yet another Mraz song, filled the clubhouse, but I apologize for whoever’s clothes I set fire to. And trust me, when that goddam fire spread, engulfing most of your personal belongings, no one in the world felt worse than me. Oh, and to Dustin, who asked me what the hell I was doing taking a Louisville Slugger to each of your lockers as they burned–well, duh. It’s called trying to put the fire out. This is basic stuff I leaned while serving as a volunteer fireman back in college and frankly, I’m surprised you’d even ask such a question.
As you know, as it turns out, the joke was on me. Because after I’d taken out what I thought was the offending boombox, I heard the dulcet tones of Mraz’s “Remedy” pouring forth from the ash and carnage. So to all of the Mraz enthusiasts out there, be it just one or a group of you, I tip my cap. Thanks for the entertainment.
But let me make this clear: I hear anymore of that whiny bastard’s songs for the remainder of this road trip and there might be a few empty seats on our team flight back to Boston. Capeesh? Excellent.
Now, who wants to hit Arby’s?”
