Son, we live in a world that has plates, and those plates have to be guarded by men with baseballs. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Brownlee? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Molina, and you curse the Shockers. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know -- that Molina's injury, while tragic, probably saved runs; and my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves runs.
You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that mound -- you need me on that mound.
We use words like "brushback," "chin music," "beanball." We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punch line.
I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very baseball that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it.
I would rather that you just said "thank you" and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a baseball and stand on the mound. Either way, I don't give a DAMN what you think you're entitled to!
You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that mound -- you need me on that mound.
We use words like "brushback," "chin music," "beanball." We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punch line.
I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very baseball that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it.
I would rather that you just said "thank you" and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a baseball and stand on the mound. Either way, I don't give a DAMN what you think you're entitled to!
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