Upswing in Productivity

(weighs walleye, it's a 4 pounder)

(scratches chin, smiles)


Justin! Orlando! Nick! Jose! Joe! JJ! My office, NOW!



(Hobble in, holding body parts that normally don't get injured)


Now, we've got a problem here. The problem, and this website can tell ya, is that we've had some difficulty not falling down and hurting ourselves while playing baseball this year. Now I know, I know. A lot of this stuff is just the nature of the game. Lou Brown will tell ya that even tough guys get sprains over the course of a season. But here's the problem: when you guys sit out, our team sucks. I don't know why it is, especially with you, Punto, but even though the other guy fills in by hitting grand slams, we still can't keep it together. And the Bitch Sox are just running all over us, because they're playing HARD! This can't happen!



Skip, I'm back now, so maybe we can-



CAN THE FACE! You missed time to get a cortisone shot in your throwing arm, and we all know how this one is going to play out. In a few days you've got the soreness back. So we can't do another shot, because of BALCO. So we rest you, again. No dice. All of a sudden it's weak grounders to second. And then the DL. AND THAT LEAVES ME WITH DREW BUTERA AS THE STARTING CATCHER!

Now let's run this down. Justin, you slid into a man's knee and knocked yourself silly, and you've missed a month. You still can't tell the difference between me and your dad. O-Dogg, you hurt yourself swinging. It's something that major league batters are supposed to do literally hundreds of times per day. And you pulled a muscle doing it. That's like me straining my voice yelling at my kids. Punto, dear god, where do I start? You pulled your hamstring busting down the line to first, like you always do. You've got an excuse already built in, don't ya? Jose, I'll get to you. Yours is the worst.



But skip, I'm all healed up!



YOU DISTORTED THE PAST AND DESTROYED THE FUTURE! YOU BROKE THE LINEAR TIME-SPACE CONTINUUM AND THRUST US FORTH INTO A DIMENSION FROM WHENCE WE WILL NEVER RETURN!





I'm... I'm not following.




Ok, Jose. Here it is. You hurt your wrist last year. You waited a long time to get surgery, until after the season ended. Then you didn't get better over the winter. You came to spring training and your wrist still hadn't healed. Which is kind of important, you know, because you're a catcher. You were the most experienced backup we had in the minors, and I could've carried you north to back up Joe alone, and it would've been grand. Instead, I had two other guys: Sal Butera's kid, and Wilson "Ain't Givin A Fuck If'n I Blast One To The Multifoods Tower" Ramos. Butera is a solid backstop, but couldn't hit a ping pong ball with a tennis racket. Ramos is 22, can hit the ball to North Oaks, but is as raw as I was with the Mets.

So I had to take Butera. But then, wouldn't you know it, Joe hurts his heel stepping on a base. Again guys, this is something we can avoid. So I need a backup. And here comes Ramos. And he goes and beats the hell out of the ball, like we all knew he would. And he becomes the best trading chip we've had since Santana. So then, Billy Smith gets 50 calls a day offering this and that for the kid. He holds off, knowing what he has. But when the trading deadline approaches, the tables turn. Now he can't find a taker. They want 4 guys for a half season of Cliff Lee. They want even more for Oswalt. Suddenly, he can't find anyone willing to part with their talent for this kid. So he panics, and we end up with Matt MF'n Capps. Straight up. Ramos, for a middling reliever. Thanks a lot, Jose.

JJ, you also hurt yourself sliding into a base.

So, boys, what are we going to do? Anyone have any suggestions? Anyone?



(silence)








I thought so. Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. Lemme get some guys in here who might be able to tell you a thing or two. KENT! GET IN HERE!





Howdy kids, how goes it? Take a look at that beaut right there. You know how I managed to win two World Series', retire a hero, and have my own fishing show where I can show up slightly drunk to work every day? BY PLAYING THROUGH PAIN, KID-O'S!!! You think it didn't hurt like hell to dive all over that turf? Tell your old man to drag Gant up and down the first base line and see if he don't get sore! But I'll tell you guys, I love baseball, and sitting out even a game would just get me more teased by my teammates. Greg Gagne would light your tighty-whiteys up if you were in the hot tub after a game!




Yeah, but Kent, you have a firm layer of blubber. The rest of us have developed muscles and tendons. How are we supposed to-





Just take a look at that, Senor. This is from my Beaver Huntin' show. You want that future? IT'S IN YOUR HANDS! Take a peek in the looking glass, kid. BRUNO, GET IN HERE!!!







Howdy folks. Just wanted to drop in and tell you guys... wait a second. What's that picture? OH YEAH, that's me with my biggest fans. I tell you, I picked these up in Kansas City, and I still can't get rid of em! Rat, come on in here and see if you can't straighten these kids out.





Christ on a bike, you punks. You can't run the bases without getting hurt? Oh, your arm hurts from too many sliders? I'll tell you what. Take one goddamn look at that mustache right there, and tell me to my fucking face that you can't go out there and play.

Thought so.

TOM!




(drives by in golf cart) What the? I recognize Joe and Justin, but who the fuck are these other clowns?







Sir, you traded for me in the offsea-



Can it, mush. Now, Ron told me to stop in today to give you guys a warning. PICK IT THE FUCK UP OR YOU'LL SWING FOR BELOIT UNTIL 2016!






Easy there Tom, I'm actually, well... let's see here. Maybe you could tell a story about injuries.






Fuck it, you're right. So take a look at that. Fucking Dave-o. Practicing sliding into second. The pig would rip one off the baggie and round first like a dog that Dickfer bet on at St. Croix. He'd come chugging into second, just barely beat the throw, but hit the bag like a freight train and splinter his ankle. So I told him, Dave, these injuries are slowing you down. How's about you just put the fucker in the seats, then you can take your time. Well, Terry comes down and tells me Dave-o is out, and we got a new fat guy in LeCroy to fill his spot. Shit, I don't care who does it, just tank that fucker into the balcony and we can all enjoy our cigars. So Dave-o leaves, starts hitting the juice, and wins two rings. The moral of the story is... SHIT BOYS, PLAY HURT OR DON'T PLAY AT ALL!!!



Thanks Tom, that's really going to help us out. Well, I guess that about does it. What's that? Oh, that's me toasting Carl for not folding the team and taking Bud's 20 million dollars.





Oh, what's in the cups? That's Purple Drank.