The scene is grim, quiet and the atmosphere would be classic if filled with smoke. Behind the desk we have the aged, hulking figure head of the Yankee$, in the visitors chair we have the beaten and bowed skipper of the listing, perhaps sinking ship.
The skipper clears his throat, "Ah hem, well George, errr Mr Steinbrenner, sir; we've been together with this team for quite some time now. We've seen some good times and some not so good times. But now, these are the worst of times. I feel like I've been demoted to single A; and that you and Cashman are trying to give me a 44 going on 45 "fatigued" pitcher as the way to bootstrap my way out of the cellar. And what's even worse - this pitcher is the one telling me what's going on. "
"I've got another "marquee" player who's dicking around off the field and on the field. Now, Georg - errr, Mr. Streinbrenner, we both know that we have just deal with the dicking around off the field, but when it starts during the game - even I have to draw a line - that is if its okay with you?"
"I know you have to accept Roger's fatigue - well George, you're going to have to accept the fact that I'm fatigued. I'm just sick and tired of trying to deal with all the prima dona over paid punks you keep filling my line up with. So here it is, and by god, you're going to accept it today - my resignation - - I quit!"
Showing posts with label George Steinbrenner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George Steinbrenner. Show all posts
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