Simpsons Quote of the Day

Today's Simpsons Quote of the Day

from the world's least dangerous man

Homer's watching the halftime show at the Thanksgiving Day football game...

Announcer: "And now, get set for our fabulous halftime show, featuring the well-groomed young go-getters of `Hooray for Everything!'"

Homer: "Oh, I love those kids. They've got such a great attitude!"

Announcer: "Ladies and gentlemen, `Hooray for Everything' invites you to join them in a salute to the greatest hemisphere on earth, the Western Hemisphere! The dancingest hemisphere of all!"

ANOTHER RETRO COLUMN

This one still makes sense...

BUD SELIG IS AN IDIOT

by the world's least dangerous sports reporter

I've always wanted to see that headline. Okay, not always, but for at least the last 8 years or so.

Bud Selig is killing baseball. And anyone who denies it is (a) a shill for baseball management, (b) related to Bud, or (c) spent the last ten years on Gilligan's Island.

And yet, no one ever acknowledges that Bud's what's wrong with baseball.

All right, fine, a few columnists have challenged Milwaukee's 2nd most beloved dork ever (sit on it, Potzie!). But I'm trying to carve out some glory for myself, so let's ignore that. Most columnists try to balance their attacks on Selig's terrible business acumen, lack of PR intelligence and general shallow self-serving loony ideas with wonderful prose about how Selig grew up loving the game and is a true baseball fan at his core. The nicest thing I can say about Selig is that he's never sold me a car, or a ticket to a Brewers game (shudder).

It all comes back to one key question a friend once posed to me: How do you trust a man from Milwaukee, the home of Miller Beer, who's nicknamed BUD? Isn't that what they call you in Milwaukee when they don't like you?

Let me get one thing out of the way: I have no complaints about Bud Selig as an owner. The people of Milwaukee might not like the fact that his team made it to the World Series one stinking time and never sniffed the post-season otherwise, but I don't give a hoot. For all I care, Bud could have kept sending Dan Plesac, Teddy Higuera and Pat Listach out to toil in mediocrity forever, and I'd have my own far more pathetic baseball franchise to follow (the Phillies, for those of you wondering if I'm an Angels fan or something). Fonzie and Mr. C may not have liked Bud's usually bland and boring offering, but the rest of America has better things to do. Heck, people in Wisconsin have better things to do, like wear foam cheese on their heads.

But then Bud went and got himself appointed baseball commissioner, and started to screw up my life, and those of baseball fans nationwide. It's much like when Miller started selling Milwaukee's Best coast to coast, thereby allowing college freshman an alternative to Natural Light and Keystone Light in the "which beer tastes most like piss" wars.

In any case, Bud opened his glorious reign as commissioner with the 1994 strike. Think about this: a business sees its CEO open his tenure with a shutdown that poisons relations with its workers, costs the stockholders hundreds of millions if not billions, gives the entire business a historic black eye and embitters its customers to the point where many publicly declare they'll never patronize the business again. So what should the Board of Directors do?

(A) Send the guy on a fact-finding trip to Baghdad, wearing a shirt that reads, "Saddam is Gay."
(B) Demote him to assistant secretary in charge of relations with the Lost City of Atlantis.
(C) Hand him a nice severance package and put him in charge of the Committee to Hire Jay Leno to Speak at the Company Retreat; or
(D) Rehire him and keep him in place for the next ten years.

Under baseball's quaint logic, they re-hired Bud, and kept re-hiring him. Last year, they re-hired him, after the business piled up approximately $3.5 billion in debt and then set fire to $519 million in losses. By way of perspective, $519 million is enough money to hire the cast of Friendsfor two seasons, plus guest-shots on a very special episode of "Blossom" where Sixx gets knocked up by David Schwimmer. In honor of this accomplishment, the owners voted to give Bud a contract for $4.5 million through 2008. These guys are probably lining up a new job for former Enron head honcho Ken Lay right now.

Mind you, no one outside a mental institution (or baseball management, which is similar in many ways) believes Selig's claims of baseball's vast financial losses. Baseball's books would probably be improved by an audit from Arthur Andersen. Selig's $519 million in losses include some fun charges, like $112 million in interest (generally something they choose, because there's financial advantages to it), $174 million in amoritization (strictly a paper loss) and $44 million for Bud's haircut (all right, we're making that up, but how much do you think it must cost to get Bill Gates' barber?). On top of that, there's the minor issue that approximately $166 million of the $232 million in reported operating losses comes from four teams (the Dodgers, the Blue Jays, the Braves and Cubs) that are owned by media conglomerates that underpay for broadcast rights and benefit from owning the rights to the programming. The Braves lost $24 million last year. Does anyone think AOL/Time-Warner would keep around an asset that hemorrages money if it didn't actually produce profit elsewhere?

Selig tried to peddle his farce of a report before Congress, which treated him like the Yankees treated Byung Hyun-Kim last fall. For a former used car salesman, Bud's a terribly bad liar. Here in D.C., they teach classes in the art of lying (okay, maybe they don't, but we're betting Bill Clinton could get a tenured spot for that kind of course at Georgetown in a heartbeat). To be honest, we're pretty sure that the job description for "Commissioner of Baseball" includes "lying to Congress." And yet here's Bud, who had the same degree of success with the House Judiciary Committee that Richard Gere had when he tried to telepathically contact Deng Xiopeng.

Bud's performance before Congress rivalled some of the worst things we've ever seen on TV, and that includes Chevy Chase's late-night talk show, Barbara Walters' Givens/Tyson interview and Ross Perot's campaign infomercials. Selig pulled off the impossible: he looked shifty, dumb and dishonest in a room filled with United States Congressmen. There's got to be some kind of award, maybe named after Richard Nixon, that the country can bestow upon Selig for making our elected representatives look so good by comparision.

Bud had to step up to the House kleig lights thanks to his short-sighted decision to push "contraction" in the off-season, a plan where Minnesota and Montreal's teams would disappear and baseball's problems would be magically solved. We're not sure if Bud and his merry band of owners had a collective acid trip when they voted on this, but they forgot to explain HOW this solves the problem. It reminded yours truly of the South Park episode where the Underpants Gnomes explain their business strategy:

Step One, collect underpants.
Step Two, ?
Step Three, profit.

I think the gnomes actually got $200 million in venture capital for that business plan in the late 1990's, but that still doesn't make it reasonable. And yes, I wrote this entire article so I could compare George Steinbrennar to a gnome.

Seriously, the contraction idea sounds so damn stupid only baseball would conjure up something like this. They're losing hundreds of millions of dollars, so why not pay Twins owner Carl Pohlad $250 million to take his share of the balls and go home? Yeah, that makes perfect sense... if you're confined to a mental institution. Baseball expanded by four teams in the 1990's, raking in $360 million or so in fees from that process (a process where they determined the expansion fees by throwing names in a hat... well, maybe it is better than hiring Andersen). It's perfectly acceptable to let teams fold if the owners want to bail out, but the owners aren't doing that here. Even the Expos, who should fold or move, aren't dying; owner Jeffrey Loria accepted a payout from baseball so he could move to Miami and get the Marlins as his punishment for running the Expos even further into the ground... hey, wait, isn't this stolen from the plot of Major League or something?

Bud foisted contraction on baseball only two days after the World Series ended last November, as entertaining and emotionally-draining a World Series as we've ever experienced. Bang, a week later, and the brilliance of Curt Schilling, Randy Johnson, Derek Jeter, Roger Clemens and all the rest is buried by a nightmarishly dumb move, one which wasn't remotely realistic. The Players Association, the state of Minnesota, the people who run the Metrodome, the peanut vendors who work there, Pete Rose, the San Diego Chicken... everyone's got a lawyer ready to sue Major league Baseball to tie up contraction until hell freezes over, or Bud starts making sense. Yet it took until this week for Selig to admit his plan has no shot in hell of coming to fruition in 2002. Hey, Bud had a succesful off-season; he arranged the game of musical ownership chairs so his favored group (headed by Tom Werner and former Marlins owner John Henry) won out on the auction bid to buy the Red Sox. Sure, they didn't accept the top bid, but there's nothing crooked there. Baseball owners have far too much integrity to interfere in the process to its detriment. Besides, Werner's dating Katie Couric, which means, for the first time since Ted Turner and Jane Fonda broke up, that we'll have a consensus choice for "Annoying Couple You'd Most Want to Beat Up in the Parking Lot after the Game." If we're real lucky, Matt Lauer will be available for beatings as well.

Selig's defenders usually point to the success of the wild-card and interleague play, which supposedly are brilliant brainstorms. Hey, football has added two wild-card teams in the last decade as well, and I don't see Paul Tagliabue buffing up his resume with the credit for that one. Plus, the wild-card was made necessary by expansion, which is supposed to be solved by contraction... someone help me out here (and don't get me started on the TV schedule for baseball's divisional playoffs, guaranteed to help us miss as many games as possible). Interleague play was cool the first time around... until they decided to keep it the same, year after year. It's still cool in New York and Chicago when the cross-town rivals square off, but does anyone think a Pirates-Royals series means any more to Pirates fans than a visit by the Padres? And before we anoint Bud for suspending baseball games for a week in the wake of Sept. 11th, let's remember that he also waited until Tags and the NFL made their decision before dropping the weekend games.

Some of you may think it's unfair to rip Selig when the rest of the owners and the players share the blame for the entire mess that is baseball business and labor relations. That's great, except those parties are supposed to act like selfish, egotistical louts who are looking out for themselves. Selig is suppose to take actions in the best interests of the game of baseball, and his status as a current owner (please, drop the charade with his daughter running the team; even if she is, this is a conflict of interest so blatant it makes Don King look aboveboard) prevents him from doing so. Selig even yanked a potential labor deal off the table last summer when MLB exec Paul Beeston and Union honcho Don Fehr almost had a deal completed. That was in the best interests of the hard-line, small-market owners and no one else.

Would I like to see a more level playing field in baseball, where the Twins and the Yankees, the Expos and the Braves, the A's and the Cubs, all compete with approximately the same amount of resources? Sure, but baseball's solutions so far are worse than the problem. Every solution they've presented has either fallen by the wayside, or has, in the estimation of the owners, failed miserably. Has revenue sharing succeeded? Have the owners done anything to convince the players union that they're not trying to screw them, so the players might even consider a salary cap or an NBA-style luxury tax?

Understand, I'm not excusing Fehr, Gene Orza and the guys who run the union from their share of the blame. Don Fehr resembles the unfunny '90's version of Dan Ackroyd, only more dour in his facial expression (quick aside for my take on the Super Bowl: does anyone else thing that Mike Martz as a kid looked like the little goofy dork from Jerry Maguire? Since I told everyone the Pats would easily cover and might even win, I think I'm entitled to pay no attention to the game itself). Fehr's not that likable a guy on TV, but he's not paid to be likable; he's paid to represent the players, and they seem to like the work he does. The owners, meanwhile, have fired every rep they've ever hired in labor negotiations, which may be the only good thing if Bud is their rep this go-round.

Hey, he can go back and run the Brewers; maybe they can finish third in the NL Central next year. But it's time for Allen H. "Bud" Selig to step down from the commissioner's seat. He's fond of reveling in baseball's mythical status as America's pastime (no matter that the NFL and NASCAR are far more popular). Well, it's well PASTtime for Bud to leave. Ask yourself one question: is Bud Selig solving the problem?

The answer is no. And that's why it's time for Bud to go.

THE NFL WEEK 12 RECAP

from the desk of the world's least dangerous sports reporter

One more weird week in the NFL, with fantastic finishes, post-game brouhahas and one more prime-time loss by the Denver Broncos.

We start with the Broncos this week, simply because they seem to really hate working at night.  The Broncos are 7-0 this season when their games begin at 4:15 P.M. EST or earlier... and 0-4 when games are played later.  The Broncos' latest misfire took place late Sunday at home, in the midst of a driving blizzard. The Colts' Mike Vaderjagt booted two 50+ yard field goals, including the overtime gamewinner.  On the flip side, we have the prime time champs, the Philadelphia Eagles. The Eagles and 49ers squared off in a matchup of first-place teams, but the Eagles came in with Koy Detmer at QB; by the end of the game, the Birds were down to third-stringer A.J. Feeley. They still whipped the 49ers, 38-17. The Eagles are now the mirror image of the Broncos in prime time, sporting a 4-0 mark in games starting later than 4:15 EST.

The Super Bowl, by the way, traditionally starts at 6:18 P.M. EST.

If the Broncos can't represent the AFC, maybe the Raiders will, as Oakland stomped to a 41-20 victory over Arizona.  Then again, the Raiders' average age is approximately 474.6 years old (Jerry Rice is actually in the Book of Genesis), so perhaps they will be sent back to their nursing home before then.  In that case, maybe Miami will take over the reins; the Dolphins annihilated the Chargers 30-3 on Sunday, serving notice on the rest of the AFC contenders by blowing out the AFC West co-leaders. 

The Dophins pulled off this feat behind backup QB Ray Lucas, who may have stolen Brett Favre's mojo.  After looking more like a backup singer than a backup QB in his first three games, Lucas has now played well two consecutive weeks; in the same two weeks, Brett Favre has thrown seven interceptions, which is three more than he threw in the first nine games of the year.  Four of those seven picks came courtesy of Tampa Bay, which handed the Pack a 21-7 loss Sunday, thereby seizing the bragging rights to the NFL's best record at 9-2.  Of course, maybe this isn't a good thing, since every team that has seized the best record in the league this season has promptly lost its next two games (or so it seems).  As if to make sure the football Gods will bring down Tampa as well, Bucs DT Warren Sapp engaged in an obscenity-laced tirade against Packers coach Mike Sherman following the game.  The Bucs play New Orleans and Atlanta the next two weeks.  The Gods await.

The Gods have an additional gift for all of us on Thanksgiving.  Thanks to the Redskins' 20-17 win over the Rams, we will get another Danny Wuerffel start, this time on Thanksgiving Day in Dallas.  Please insert your turkey joke here.  Seriously, Wuerffel played well, a sentance we never believed we'd type.  Then again, Wuerffel hasn't played well since the 1997 Sugar Bowl (our favorite stat from Sunday: at halftime, when Wuerffel had 140 yards passing, he'd already set a career mark for most yards passing in a game).  The Rams saw their five-game winning streak stuffed, as All-World QB Kurt Warner returned just in time for another Rams loss.  In games started by Warner this season, his team is 0-5; in games started by other QBs, the team is 5-1.  Of course, in games started by Danny Wuerffel this season, the Redskins are 2-0.  In addition, we'd like to point out that Fox announcers Dick Stockton and Daryl Johnston openly wondered why Wuerffel wears a glove, when "it's not even that cold outside."  Haven't we repeatedly told everyone why he does this?  It's an homage to Danny's currently embattled childhood hero, Michael Jackson. 

The Skins and Cowboys will both enter the Thanksgiving matchup coming off wins, which is further proof that gambling on the NFL is a bad idea (for further proof, please see Pete Rose's bank account).  Dallas stopped Jacksonville 21-19 to start a weird day in Texas, which was topped by the Giants' 16-14 loss in Houston later that day; in a strange quirk of fate, this meant the only three teams the Texans have ever beaten (Jacksonville, Dallas and now the Giants) were all in the state of Texas Sunday.  We're not sure what it means, although Oliver Stone is looking into it.

Maybe Oliver can exhume Jim Garrison, or summon up his ghost, in order to explain how the formerly scoring-happy Saints got whipped at home by Cleveland 24-15.  The drunken Ohio State fans who attempted to burn down Columbus Saturday promptly stumbled east to Cleveland to set it on fire, but realized this would be a civic improvement and left it alone. 

The fans thought about heading to Cincinnati, but then thought better, since the Bengals never win.  Pittsburgh added another loss to Cincy's resume; the Bengals have already picked up their league-mandated one win and were lucky to cover the spread.  Thanks for participating in the 2002 season, guys; there's some lovely parting gifts available on your way out.  The same message can be sent to the Carolina Panthers, who got hammered 41-0 yesterday by Atlanta, which beat the Panthers 30-0 earlier in the year.  That may be some sort of record, but no one's really sure if the Panthers are an NFL team or not, so no one's checking.

The same might be said for the Detroit Lions and Chicago Bears, who squared off in another OT game yesterday, which fascinated all 12 people who watched it.  The most boneheaded move of the week (which is saying something, since Memphis volunteered to host another Mike Tyson fight this week) goes to Lions coach Marty Morhningweg, who won the OT coin toss and elected to kick-off.  In case you're not aware (and maybe Marty isn't), overtime in the NFL is sudden death, so if a team kicks off, there's no requirement that they receive the ball back.  Trying to square that with the Lions' strategy is like trying to decipher a Bob Dylan song nowadays.  The Lions may still be punch-drunk after getting whipped by the Jets last week; this bodes ill for Buffalo, which got spanked 31-13 by the Jets this week. The Bills now drop into last-place in the confusing AFC East, where Miami holds a game lead over the Jets and Patriots, who won a surprisingly close game over Minnesota, 24-17. The spread, for those of you interested, was 7.5 points, which is further proof that Las Vegas fixes the ball games and you should not gamble on them. We'd mention something about the game, but we're sure no one is actually reading this paragraph.

We'd also tell you something about Seattle's high-scoring upset of Kansas City, but we don't really care.  And finally, we have the Titans, owners of a five-game winning streak, getting stopped in Baltimore yesterday 13-12, which dropped them a game back of Indianapolis in the AFC South race.  The Titans' last loss took place to the Skins, who started Danny Wuerrfel in that game, too.  It all comes back to Wuerffel, folks.

TODAY'S POLITICAL RANT

from the world's least dangerous man

I hear Dick Armey and Bob Barr, once regarded as charter members of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy, have signed on to work for the ACLU.

Let's stop for a moment so that the heads of Democrats can officially explode.

Seriously, Terry McAulliffe and his minions must feel like the Grinch just stole everything from them. First, they get beaten in the fall elections, losing control of the Senate, despite all of Barbra Streisand's best efforts (Babs penned a new rendition of "The Way We Were" for crying out loud... how could they lose?). Next, the party apparently loses its collective mind by electing Nancy Pelosi to succeed Dick Gephardt as the House Minority Leader, ensuring that the party reacts to a stinging rebuke from mainstream Americans by putting forth a California liberal as the face of the party (that should win back those Georgia Senate seats). Tom Daschle suffers a meltdown of sorts, blaming Rush Limbaugh for calling him names like "obstructionist" (them's fighting words in South Dakota!). Most horrifying of all, Al Gore returns from the dead, doing a book tour and providing us with the holiday season's greatest gift... no, not his book, but his stint hosting Saturday Night Live next month.

And now, this. The ACLU is an organization dedicated to the Bill of Rights... well, maybe just the ones that play well with the New York Times. Traditionally, the ACLU is front and center standing up for the rights of pornographers and child molesters... but utters nary a peep for hunters required to register their guns.

Hey, I'm not saying their wrong to stand up and defend the rights of people, even in the most insane circumstances. In order to safeguard the protections we have under the Bill of Rights, it's necessary to allow things to be said or done that we don't like. We may not like seeing smut get published, or watching the Klan march through our town, or hearing Barbra Streisand sing. But it's all part and parcel of living in a country that guarantees each person the right to speak freely.

But the ACLU has generally spent much of its time focusing on causes most people identify as liberal, such as the need for Internet porn in public libraries. Hiring Republicans to work at the ACLU isn't revolutionary; by definition, this is an organization that should aim toward libertarian values, rather than liberal or conservative ones. Still, there's a difference between hiring Republicans and hiring conservatives like Bob Barr. Barr beat most folks to the punch by calling for Bill Clinton's impeachment before anyone knew about Monica's late-night pizza deliveries. Barr makes liberals shake with anger, sort of like the Skipper anytime Gilligan screws up.

But Barr has worked with the ACLU for years, on causes related to the preservation of individual rights against the intrusion of the government, especially as it warrants to the Fourth Amendment. So this isn't all that shocking. And it's a smart move by the ACLU, which recognizes that the doors to power in the capitol are now opened by the GOP, and there's nothing Jumping Jim Jeffords can do to change it. If the ACLU wants face time with GOP power brokers, they're going to need to bring forth a person who's earned the respect of Republicans. It's easy to do that with Bob Barr and Dick Armey.

Still, it's refreshing to see that the ACLU might return its focus to being an equal-opportunity offender, a group that will annoy conservatives and liberals alike. Then again, liberals are offended by just about anything nowadays. Just ask Tom Daschle. Better yet, don't.

But that's just my least dangerous opinion...

The Devil and Mr. Torre

A Blast from the Past

Since this is my first post, I thought I'd post my most-loved work, last year's Devil and Mr. Torre expose. It's dated, yes, but it's one of my favorite pieces. Enjoy.

The Devil and Mr. Torre

by the world's least dangerous man

So there I was Wednesday night, Halloween, watching the Yankees' dynasty (a word that, if I'm not mistaken, means a "nasty din," a great way to describe Yankee Stadium) finally crumble. Thanks to the amazing performances of Curt Schilling and Randy Johnson, we would finally witness the end of the national nightmare that has doomed baseball fans to utter boredom, and eviscerated the interest of fans in the national pastime.

Boy, was I wrong.

Before I could blink, Tino Martinez launched a bomb into the right centerfield stands, out of the reach of a desperate climb by Steve Finley, who probably risked infection by climbing that close to the denizens of Yankee Stadium. And less than an hour later, Derek Jeter inaugurated November baseball by dropping one into the rightfield seats, and far enough into the seats that no one needed to release Jeffrey Maier from his current juvenile detention facility so he could help steal another game (fine, he's not in jail. BUT HE SHOULD BE).

And then, just in case we started to believe this a temporary reprieve, we witnessed the Nightmare in the Bronx, Part II, as Scott Brosius ripped another two-run ninth inning blast, again off Diamondbacks closer Byung-hyun Kim, who did a passable imitation of Michael Corleone at the end of Godfather III, when his daughter has been shot, he's crying in shock as the family consoles him... and the audience is cheering the on-screen departure of Sofia Coppola. I think the State Department is checking as to whether three homeruns in two days by the Yankees off Kim dictates the need for some sort of an official apology to South Korea.

And finally, it dawned on me. There were greater powers at work here. From Richie Garcia's alcohol-induced inability to spot the aforementioned Mr. Maier (all right, if he wasn't drunk, how did he miss that?) to the Indians' inability to hit El Duque in Game 4 in 1998 to the A's inability to field in crucial Game 5s to the events of this last week... someone had his hand in all these events. Yankee fans believe it's God... but most of us know better. First of all, God would never bless a team owned by George Steinbrenner. And if God liked New Yorkers, his son, Michael Jordan, would have played for the Knicks rather than constantly torture them.

No, it's quite clear that following the 1994 strike, God gave up on baseball. As punishment, he decreed that the Atlanta Braves win the 1995 Series, subjecting all of us to the sight of Jane Fonda and Ted Turner dancing the Macarena (note to God: thanks for making sure that doesn't happen again). Following that event, he promptly washed his hands of the national pastime. He even stopped protecting the sanctity of certain records, which is why Rockies' pitcher Mike Hampton could blast 90 homers next season.

But now, thanks to our prayers, God has returned, in the form of Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling, and the Yankees' evil reign is over. The long nightmare finally concluded Sunday night, and only a fool could deny the fact that divine intervention took place. The holy water falling in a domed stadium, cleansing all of us and purifying the Diamondbacks, clearing their eyes so they could hit Mariano Rivera. God may not have cared for the last five years, but he gave a damn now.

But just because God did not care for baseball from 1996-2001 does not dictate the terrible tragedy known as FOUR YANKEE TITLES IN FIVE YEARS. No, for that, we require the presence of true evil, the guiding hand of a power so malevolent that it would subject us to hours of Chuck Knoblauch at-bats and Don Zimmer close-ups.

Therefore, we conducted an investigation. We delved into the supernatural and examined the records. It took awhile, but we finally found it. We finally proved what Red Sox fans believed for several years, and what even most Yankee fans openly admitted in the 1980's and early 1990's: the Yankees' affiliation with the Dark Lord and Master. Thanks to the following transcript, we finally have the evidence necessary to adduce the truth: Joe Torre sold his soul to Satan.

If you don't believe us, read the following:

DATE: LATE OCTOBER 1995

PLACE: HELL

SATAN: "Welcome, Mr. Torre."

JOE: (glancing around nervously) "Um, maybe I shouldn't be here."

SATAN: "Come now, Joe, we all know why you're here. You're going to get a job offer from George Steinbrenner."

JOE: "How the hell did you know that?"

SATAN: "Joe, George works for me. Why would anyone be shocked at that? He almost came over to the Dark Side in the 1970's before he bought the team, but he needed an introduction from Billy Martin. I'd have Billy tell you the story, but he's not here."

JOE: (incredulous) "Billy made it to heaven?"

SATAN: (rolls eyes) "Don't be ridiculous, Joe. Billy got promoted last week and is out celebrating with Larry King."

JOE: (confused) "Isn't Larry King still alive?"

SATAN: "Yeah, that's what most people think. Anyway, you're here because you're about to get your dream job, managing the Yankees, working for your nightmare owner, George Steinbrenner. And you, a man with a pristine soul, want to cut a deal."

JOE: "You know, I'm rethinking this. I mean, how bad could it be? I know how to manage a baseball team. And Mr. Steinbrenner's become much more understanding the last few years."

SATAN: "Yeah, and O.J.'s innocent, too. Joe, there's a reason why Buck Showalter will be in Arizona. A reason why Billy got fired five times. A reason why Stump Merrill... well, he's an idiot. But George has no patience. And you of all people shouldn't think you're going to walk out of New York with your head held high. You've already been canned in St. Louis and Atlanta, although I can't really blame you for getting fired by that scumbag Ted Turner."

JOE: "What's your problem with Ted Turner?"

SATAN: "That bastard double-crossed me on a business deal a few years ago. You think a billboard salesman from Georgia gets that big on his own? Too bad he only gave me CNN, but I got him back. Made him so damn impotent that the only woman willing to marry him was the devil's handmaiden herself, Jane Fonda. Then God gets the bright idea to punish baseball for the strike by making the damn Braves appear in every postseason through the end of the century."

JOE: "Is God that angry with baseball?"

SATAN: "Yeah, but he's taking a hands-off approach now. I mean, he really hates the sport. He even scrapped his plan to have his favorite team win the World Series in 1999 to close the millennium.

JOE: "Who's his favorite team?"

SATAN: "Why, the Red Sox, of course."

JOE: "The Red Sox???? Then how come they never win?"

SATAN: "They used to, but God decided Boston fans had too much of a good thing. He wanted them to suffer, kinda like Job, so they'd really appreciate it once they got another one. He planned to give them the title in 1986, but people got cocky in Boston and started calling Larry Bird "God," which really made him mad. That's when he decided to really punish Sox fans. Bill Bucker never told anyone this, because they'd think he was crazy, but God reached down and goosed him as he went for Mookie's grounder. That's why Bill looks like he got an enema as he bent over going for the ball. Hey, God also loves the Cubbies. But that's neither here nor there. You and I need to close this deal, but I sense some reluctance. Especially with these additional demands."

JOE: "Well, is it so bad to ask for more than one title?"

SATAN: "No, but I already promised Wayne Huizenga one. I'll get him on the line and try to finesse that by a year, so you can have next year's title and he can have one in 1997. I owe him that, what with all my Blockbuster late fees."

JOE: "But then what happens to the repeat?"

SATAN: (sighing) "All right, Joe, I'll tell you what. We'll not only give you a repeat, but a three-peat. Hell, even a four-peat. I'll even get you the patent on that word, before that idiot Pat Riley beats me to it again. Dumbass. We'll see if he ever wins another title."

JOE: "A four-peat? Really?"

SATAN: "Yeah, but I'm going to need some collateral. Additional souls, if you will. Plus some favors."

JOE: “What kind of favors?”

SATAN: “First, you need to give my kid a job.” (points to the door, where Don Zimmer waddles in).

JOE: (visibly shocked) “You’re – he’s – I mean... Don is your son?”

ZIMMER: “The sky is our friend.”

SATAN: “Yeah, he pretty much babbles incoherently most of the time. I thought it was pretty damn funny when God’s two favorite teams, the Red Sox and the Cubs, both hired him to manage, out of pity.“ (laughs, then shakes head) “I was doing a lot of drugs before he was born.” (pats Don on the head) “See the nice man, Don? Say hi.”

ZIMMER: “My name is purple.”

JOE: “What can I do with him?”

SATAN: “Make him your bench coach. Just nod sagely at whatever he says, even if it’s utter nonsense. Then tell the press how crucial his advice is.”

ZIMMER: “Ring-ring! Lunchtime!”

JOE: “I’m not so sure…” (gets a look from the devil, then reconsiders) “Okay, I guess so. Just see if you can stop the drooling thing. What else will I need to do?”

SATAN: “Keep Darryl Strawberry on the team for a couple years. I messed up his taxes a couple years ago, so I owe him a couple rings. Don’t worry; he’ll probably be high the whole time anyway.”

JOE: “Won’t Mr. Steinbrenner veto that idea?”

SATAN: “Once again, George listens to me. Besides, I’ve got him deluded into thinking he should collect ex-Met coke fiends. You’ll have Doc Gooden as well, and if my old pal Keith Hernandez was still around…”

ZIMMER: “The white powder smells good.”

JOE: (looks annoyed) “All right, so I’ve got Don Zimmer, Daryl Strawberry and Doc Gooden. What about this soul business?”

SATAN: “We’ll handle that on a year-by-year basis, for 1998 on. For example, I’ll take your third baseman’s soul in 1998.”

JOE: “You’re taking Wade Boggs?”

SATAN: (rolls eyes) “Yeah, right. He and Margo Adams reserved a room here years ago. Nah, by then you’ll have another third baseman.”

JOE: “You know, that third baseman’s going to ask for something more than a ring in return. And I’m still peeved about the 1997 thing.”

SATAN: “We’ll make him, whoever he is, a World Series MVP, okay? And just because you’re steamed about missing out on 1997, I’ll let your team win 114 games one year. I’ll let you beat the Mets in a Subway World Series another time, which probably couldn’t happen otherwise, seeing as how no one outside New York would watch. And I’ll even let my son take the blame for the 1997 loss.”

JOE: “You mean Don?”

ZIMMER: “Bats have wood in them.”

SATAN: “No, I mean my other son. He’ll be your closer in a couple years, name of Mariano. And he will never, ever fail you, no matter how many days in a row he throws, no matter how many innings he throws.”

JOE: (thinking) “Then why won’t I throw him all the time?”

SATAN: “Let’s not give away the fact that we’ve got a deal working here, okay? And in keeping with that, I’m going to give you a team filled with goody-two-shoes. Red Sox fans will want to root for these guys. All-American boy shortstop. Cool, collected team leader in centerfield. Power-hitting first baseman who doubles as a great guy. You’ll get a crafty veteran pitcher who’s a Cuban refugee, risking his life to play baseball in the big leagues. Two catchers, one an up-and-coming kid, the other a grizzled veteran…”

JOE: “Boy, they sound too good to be true.”

SATAN: “You know, you’re right.” (pauses) “We’ll make them flawed as well. Your Gold Glove second baseman will forget how to throw to first. Your rightfielder will bitch, moan and whine like a little girl about balls and strikes, even when he swings and misses. And your pitching staff… we’ll give you an overweight party animal who rides a Harley.”

JOE: “That guy might be popular in New York.”

SATAN: “Well, we can fix that. I’ve got a 2 o’clock appointment who I can shift over to you if necessary.”

JOE: “Who’s that?”

SATAN: “It’s confidential, Joe, but it’s a pretty good pitcher. So far he’s sold his soul for a few awards, but he doesn’t seem interested in titles, only money. I’m sure eventually he’ll ask for both, at which point we’ll see what else he can offer.”

JOE: “You can’t give me a clue?”

SATAN: “Sorry, but rules are rules. Do we have a deal?”

JOE: (thinks about it… for three seconds) “Yeah, why not? It’s only eternal damnation, right? And this place looks a lot like New Jersey.”

ZIMMER: “Mommy wants snausages!”

SATAN: “All right, take Don with you, then. And remember, this conversation’s recorded for our future benefit.”

JOE: “I guess that’s why Richard Nixon was sitting in the receptionist’s chair.” (leaves, with Zimmer on a leash)

(intercom buzzes)

SATAN: “Yes?”

INTERCOM: “Your 2 o’clock is here, sir.”

SATAN: “Send Mr. Clemens in.”

The preceding was recorded with only the implied oral consent of Major League Baseball and cannot be rewritten, rebroadcast or taken seriously without imposing a salary cap.