Welcome bu-hack to the program. My next guest is the general manager of the Mets, Omar Minaya, who’s gotta be feelin pretty blue these days. Run it down for me. What’s the litany of injuries?
Well, Carlos Delgado’s got a torn labrum, Carlos Beltran’s got a bone bruise, Jose Reyes got hit by a fire truck, Ollie Perez has got seven swans a-swimming, and John Maine’s got six geese a laying. Although I’d rather be laying those eight maids a milking, right, Mikey? *honk* *honk* Say Mikey, I haven’t gotten a word in edgewise since I got here. You must’ve been vaccinated with a phonograph needle!
Since when do you talk like Groucho?
Since when are you such a grouch, Mikey? Boy, if this room gets any livelier, a funeral’s gonna break out!
And what’s that in your hand, a martini glass?
I would’ve brought my brandy snifter, but it got shattered by a mortar at the 38th Parallel!
Mets fans think you’re not taking this situation seriously, that the season will soon slip away because of your inability to make a move to bolster the offense.
I take this very seriously! You should see how much serious drinking I’ve been doing!
What is your plan to fix the glaring deficiencies in this team?
I’m not too worried, Mikey. You know what they say–there’s always more de-fish-in-the-seas. *honk* *honk*
Are you gonna make a trade for this team, or are you just gonna sit around and crack jokes while the team falls apart?
Listen, I’ve seen enough blood and pain and horror to last me three lifetimes. I patch these kids up just so they can run right out and get torn up again. What’s the sense of it all? Sure, I tell jokes, Mike. But is it any worse than the joke that’s been played on me? So laugh! Laugh at all, cause it’s one big joke, isn’t it? And the punchline is, we all die alone and afraid, stranding men in scoring position.
Wow, this front office used to be light hearted and satirical, but this season has really changed you. Made you all…morose and dramatic.
You should see what it’s done to Fred Wilpon.
Colonel, I request a section 8!