Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Armando's Goodbye is Cut Short By a Visitor
GALARRAGA: Gracias, Brandon. You’re good man. I wish you luck this year.
INGE: Thanks, pal. Same to you. It’s not going to be the same without you around here.
GALARRAGA: I just hope I fit in with Ar-zona like I do here. I gonna miss you guys. And the Skipper. Who knows what it gonna be like down there?
/loud pounding on door
INGE: Who could that be?
/door flies open
INGE: Gibby! Hey!
GIBSON: Shut it, you little bitch. Gibby’s not here to see your pathetic ass. Isn’t there some 10 year old in the hospital with the f-cking gout or something you could be getting your picture taken with?
INGE: Actually, there’s this sweet boy named Billy that’s really sick…
GIBSON: Great. F-ck off. My business isn’t with you.
/put full can of Copenhagen in lip
INGE: Um, okay. Seeya, Mando. You too, Gibby.
GIBSON: Die. Anyway, how ya doin’, kid?
GALARRAGA: Well, I sad to leave Detroit, I guess. No offense.
GIBSON: Detroit. Ya know, I’ve spent my most of my life here. And yeah, they liked you cause you’re a nice kid. Ya know what nice kids get done in the big leagues?
GIBSON: They get jack and sh-t done, that’s what. Gibby was a star in this town and they sh-t on him. Then I went to LA, won an MVP, and hit the biggest home run in baseball history and won a World Series. Gibby didn’t kiss no sick babies like your boyfriend that just left. And I sure as f-ck didn’t kiss the ass of an umpire that f-cked me out of the greatest moment of my life.
/spits on clean floor
GALARRAGA: Mr. Joyce make mistake. I couldn’t hold ill will toward him.
GIBSON: No, you should’ve held a shotgun to his f-cking head. You’ll learn, boy. With me in Arizona, I’m gonna turn you into a f-cking animal. You’ll see.
GALARRAGA: I guess so.
GIBSON: You guess so? Ya know, you look familiar. Did I ever tell you about the skank I saw Rozema hitting on back in this club we used to drink at in ’83? She was an ugly bitch. I tried to stop him, but Davey didn’t give a f-ck once he had a pint of whiskey in him. Anyway, Rozema won’t take no for an answer and sticks his hand down this beast’s pants. Out of nowhere, some even bigger broad hauls off and punches ‘ol Dave right in the f-cking mouth. Turns out they were lesbos and Rozey was too dumb to take a hint. Funniest sh-t I ever saw. Anyway, you look like one of those bitches. Are you?
GALARRAGA: What you talk about?
GIBSON: Are you a BITCH!
GALARRAGA: No, sir!
GIBSON: Then quit crying like one. F-ck this team. These aren’t MY Tigers anymore. The guys I played with in this town were tougher than a f-cking two dollar steak. You think Clete Thomas or Don Kelly would last ten seconds in a fight with Darrell Evans or Larry Herndon?
GIBSON: F-ck and no, they wouldn’t. Sparky Anderson would have skullf-cked and cut half of these f-cking losers. Jesus, you think Sparky woulda been letting some twat named “Casper” be making silly videos on the damn internet? No f-cking way. And my gawd, half these f-ckers don’t even speak English. No offense, Senor Crybaby.
/skins chipmunk with pocket knife
GIBSON: You remind me of a tubby f-ck named Juan Berenguer. That wetback didn’t know the difference between pussy and piss until Gibby got a hold of him. Within two months, he was barred from every strip club in Detroit. Too many dancers needing abortions…ha. Anyway, point is, this city and team has gone soft. You’re with Gibby now and in Arizona, we’re gonna hunt down every f-cking team we play like they’re a twelve-point buck. We are MEN and will act like f-cking MEN! You hear me, son?
GALARRAGA: Yes, sir.
GIBSON: What did you say, boy? Like you have a pair!
GALARRAGA: YES, SIR!
GIBSON: Good. If some ump screws one of Gibby’s boys out of a perfect game, we’re gonna beat the sh-t outta him with a tire iron after the game. Then, we’re gonna knock his daughter up. Gibby protects his boys. And you’re one of Gibby’s boys now, son. Now get your sh-t and let’s get the f-ck out of here. You’re gonna love it in Arizona. You ever f-ck a rattlesnake, kid?
GIBSON: Thank the baby Jesus for that. That’d be weird. But those sh-ts are good eatin’. Let Gibby show you the way, boy. It’s all gonna be fine.
/pisses in corner next to door marked “MEN”
GALARRAGA: Thank you, sir. I do my best.
GIBSON: F-ck your best. You’ll do Gibby’s best. Or I’ll kill you. C’mon, let’s go get some jerkey, some booze, and a hooker. You’re a Diamondback now.
GALARRAGA: You much different than Jim Leyland.
GIBSON: Jim Leyland is a sack of doe piss. I can’t sleep at night at what that f-ck’s done to this team. Put it out of your mind, kid. Gibby’s gonna change your life.
GALARRAGA: I like blonde hooker?
GIBSON: Haha…indeed, my boy. We all do.