I’ve called this press conference to discuss recent actions by our VP for player relations, Tony Bernazard. But I’m not just going to announce his dismissal and take a few questions. No, that would be far too simple for this organization. So strap yourselves in and put your helmets on, folks. I’m gonna take you on Omar’s Wild Ride! The forecast calls for scattered patches of KUH-RAZY!
What Tony did was inexcusable and an embarrassment to this team. It was so embarrassing that I puzzled over his actions for hours, and wondered to myself, “How could I possibly make this incident even more embarrassing?”
And then it hit me: Why not slander a beat reporter? Oh Omar, you’ve done it again!
Our fans have come to expect no less from the Mets under my leadership. For some fanbases, the last three seasons of crushing losses and bitter disappointment would be enough. But Mets fans know that that no underachieving season is complete without some heaping fistfuls of salt rubbed right in their wounds.
I guess I’m just one of those people who sees things as they should be and says, “Why not?” Granted, not every incident has to turn this organization into an even bigger joke than it already is. Negative press is a lot minor league prospects: only a very few of them will ever turn out to be clusterfucks of epic proportions.
But why not reach for the stars? Why not try to make every mention of the Mets in the media a total kick in the dick for their fans?
For instance, when the time came to fire Willie Randolph, I knew I couldn’t simply give him his pink slip and send him on his way. No, I knew he had to be dismissed after the first game of a long West Coast swing, at 3 in the morning NY time. How better to disrespect a beloved former player and piss off the New York press corps at the same time?
And when Ryan Church suffered his second concussion of the season last year, any GM could have just sent him home to recover. No! It took a man of my leadership and skill to insist he remain with the team during a lengthy road trip, flying on planes, doing god knows what to his damaged melon and rendering him even more of offensive enigma!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare for our next promotion: the first 20,00 fans at tomorrow’s game receive a manila envelope containing the deepest, darkest secrets of their most treasured Mets heroes!
Didn’t you love Buddy Harrelson and Ed Kranepool back in 1969? You won’t, after you hear what they did during a series in Chicago that year. The details would turn any decent human’s stomach.
No need to thank me, fans!
