SHOWDOWN AT THE YUMA CORRAL
Posted: Mon Sep 16, 2019 12:34 pm
SHOWDOWN AT THE YUMA CORRAL
Upon learning of David Goode’s dismissal and Billy Hawke’s promotion, Acting GM for the Yuma Bulldozers, Pam Postema, made a phone call to the spokesperson for the Yuma Consortium of Owners, Emma Span, resident of Brooklyn, NY. It went something like this, expletives deleted.
Whadda you want, Postema?
A word with you, Emma.
One word? Sure. Here it is. F*** off.
That’s two words and not germane to the subject.
What subject?
Why did you fire Davey?
I didn’t. The owners did. I’m just—
No, it was your call, according to the owners I spoke to.
Who the h*** have you been talking to? You know you’re supposed to go through me, not hassle the owners directly!
Why?
Because I’m paid to handle all communication with the—
No. Why’d you fire him? (Silence.) Emma? You there? Composing a response?
You’re probably taping this aren’t you, you b****?
No, I’m not. Just wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth. (Silence.) Emma?
Because he was doing a lousy job, that’s why. No surprise there.
Why now? Why one month before the end of the season? Why not let him finish his job with a little dignity and then announce a change in managers during the off season? Did you have to humiliate the guy?
Why are you defending him? You’ve been nothing but critical of his decisions.
He’s a lousy manager, but—
There’s your answer.
—but he deserves better treatment than this.
Why do you care?
Because I don’t like what’s happening to this organization.
Oh you don’t, do you? Well, Miss High and Mighty, what’s happening to this organization, as you put it, is none of your d*** business. So, once again, f*** off.
Was it you or the owners who decided to promote Billy?
That was all me, sweetheart.
You didn’t think I should have a say in it?
Why should you?
As GM.
Acting GM, don’t forget.
So maybe you should have consulted with the real GM.
That nutcake? Do you actually think a patient in a mental hospital should be making decisions about the running of a baseball team? H***, the nurses probably tell him when to s*** and when not to s***.
You could at least—
Postema, you got a lot of nerve, but you should know that the owners have discussed your future as well.
(Chortle) That’s not much of a threat. I’ve been fired before.
Yeah, and I rehired you, you ungrateful little …
Little what? I’m dying to hear.
Listen, Pam—
I’m in trouble now if you’re calling me Pam!
Okay, have it your way, Postema. I fired Davey and I promoted Billy and I’m gonna fire you too, just so you know where it’s coming from.
I’ll appeal to the owners.
The f***ing owners! They don’t have a g** d*** clue! Those miserable s***h**** don’t have the wit to run this m*****f****** ballclub. H***, they can’t get a f****** quorum together half the time. The Dozers are nothing but a d*** toy to them, a s***** little toy that makes them bundles of money. All those p***a*** care about is their b***s*** profits. They are absof******lutely worthless. J****, M*** and J*****, I make the g** d*** decisions around here, and then I tell those c***s****** what they’ve done, and they nod and say, “Yes, ma’am, when can we expect our next check, ma’am?” So, Pam baby, if you want to take your case to the owners, well, good luck with that, sister.
I’m not your sister, Emma, but—
(Call disconnected in Brooklyn.)
In the front office of the Yuma Bulldozers, everyone from Billy Hawk to Roberta Tipitina froze when they heard the unexpurgated expletives explode from the GM’s office.
Fuckfuckfuck! I’ll get you, Emma Span, somehow, somewhere, somefuckingday. I will get you for this.
Upon learning of David Goode’s dismissal and Billy Hawke’s promotion, Acting GM for the Yuma Bulldozers, Pam Postema, made a phone call to the spokesperson for the Yuma Consortium of Owners, Emma Span, resident of Brooklyn, NY. It went something like this, expletives deleted.
Whadda you want, Postema?
A word with you, Emma.
One word? Sure. Here it is. F*** off.
That’s two words and not germane to the subject.
What subject?
Why did you fire Davey?
I didn’t. The owners did. I’m just—
No, it was your call, according to the owners I spoke to.
Who the h*** have you been talking to? You know you’re supposed to go through me, not hassle the owners directly!
Why?
Because I’m paid to handle all communication with the—
No. Why’d you fire him? (Silence.) Emma? You there? Composing a response?
You’re probably taping this aren’t you, you b****?
No, I’m not. Just wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth. (Silence.) Emma?
Because he was doing a lousy job, that’s why. No surprise there.
Why now? Why one month before the end of the season? Why not let him finish his job with a little dignity and then announce a change in managers during the off season? Did you have to humiliate the guy?
Why are you defending him? You’ve been nothing but critical of his decisions.
He’s a lousy manager, but—
There’s your answer.
—but he deserves better treatment than this.
Why do you care?
Because I don’t like what’s happening to this organization.
Oh you don’t, do you? Well, Miss High and Mighty, what’s happening to this organization, as you put it, is none of your d*** business. So, once again, f*** off.
Was it you or the owners who decided to promote Billy?
That was all me, sweetheart.
You didn’t think I should have a say in it?
Why should you?
As GM.
Acting GM, don’t forget.
So maybe you should have consulted with the real GM.
That nutcake? Do you actually think a patient in a mental hospital should be making decisions about the running of a baseball team? H***, the nurses probably tell him when to s*** and when not to s***.
You could at least—
Postema, you got a lot of nerve, but you should know that the owners have discussed your future as well.
(Chortle) That’s not much of a threat. I’ve been fired before.
Yeah, and I rehired you, you ungrateful little …
Little what? I’m dying to hear.
Listen, Pam—
I’m in trouble now if you’re calling me Pam!
Okay, have it your way, Postema. I fired Davey and I promoted Billy and I’m gonna fire you too, just so you know where it’s coming from.
I’ll appeal to the owners.
The f***ing owners! They don’t have a g** d*** clue! Those miserable s***h**** don’t have the wit to run this m*****f****** ballclub. H***, they can’t get a f****** quorum together half the time. The Dozers are nothing but a d*** toy to them, a s***** little toy that makes them bundles of money. All those p***a*** care about is their b***s*** profits. They are absof******lutely worthless. J****, M*** and J*****, I make the g** d*** decisions around here, and then I tell those c***s****** what they’ve done, and they nod and say, “Yes, ma’am, when can we expect our next check, ma’am?” So, Pam baby, if you want to take your case to the owners, well, good luck with that, sister.
I’m not your sister, Emma, but—
(Call disconnected in Brooklyn.)
In the front office of the Yuma Bulldozers, everyone from Billy Hawk to Roberta Tipitina froze when they heard the unexpurgated expletives explode from the GM’s office.
Fuckfuckfuck! I’ll get you, Emma Span, somehow, somewhere, somefuckingday. I will get you for this.
