"Andy Pettitte, now that's a pick-off move."That fucker can be looking right at you. You'd never know it. Got to call him: Travolta, or pizza boy, something Italian. Got to distract him.

"But, yeah, even then, great pick-off move, shit, I ain't kidding: looking right at you."

Sir this is not the line up for you, your line-up is just over there.

"Shit, don't you think I know that? I stole home against Andy Pettitte, shit, I know from line-ups. I'm in a bathrobe so now I don't know from line-ups?"

Yes, of course, and, of course no one is questioning you about baseball, but, well, it's just that, well, that bathrobe came with a belt. And, well. We were, of course, wondering: what happened to your belt, Mr. Gruber?

"The belt! Always with the goddamn belt! Okay, wait, do you even know who Andy Pettitte is?"

Sir, yes, we know all about Andy Pettitte, and Manny Lee and Dave Steve...

"No! Shit. Goddamn you! Not 'Steve', Steib. Dave. Fucking. Steib! Okay? What!?"

Yes. Dave Steib. Of course, we know that, we know. A real "tough cocksucker." We know, we know.

"Yeah, exactly. Tough cocksucker. Real Tough Cock Sucker."

Yes, of course, we know: "even with the moustache."

"Even with that fucking moustache."

Okay, yes, sir, that's fine. Just fine. But, please, please, the other line-up..

"Yeah, right, the other line-up. The other line-up. Manny Lee. Bench me for Manny Lee. Manny fucking Lee. Shit. Man, I got kids..."

Yes of course, we understand perfectly. Perfectly. But please Mr. Gruber, please, please, do up the robe.

"Right, again with the robe."

* * * * *

 

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