When Soto looks disgusted, you know shit's gone pear-shaped.
(Buys Carlos Marmol an ice cream. Sits down on curb in front of Dairy Queen. Tousles Marmol's hair.)
Hey, buddy. How you doing? This hurts us more than it hurts your astronomical WHIP. Three blown saves in five opportunities? That is not only clown shoes, but also behavior unfitting of a man with so much capacity for filthiness. I shouldn't have to scream at you. Moreover, when I'm checking into a day game via GameCast, I really shouldn't have to scream at tiny moving dots and numbers on the computer, because that makes me look just a bit nutbaggy.
What's happened, man? Just two years ago, you set a strikeouts-per-inning record that, while essentially meaningless to a supremely awful Cubs team, was super impressive. Remember? When your mom and I got you that Nintendo? And you told Eric Gagne that he could "take his stupid 90s Oakleys and suck it"? Those were good times. And you remember 2008, when you made everyone remember the Spinners again? I bought that album because I loved the feeling it gave me - like I was mowing down the St. Louis Cardinals and saving the day for Ted Lilly. And now ... (gestures wildly)
Now look at things. You blew ten saves last year. TEN! Do you know what we could have done with those? Finished .500 and maybe only finished 15 games back. Actually, maybe we should thank you for helping to get Fat Uncle Jim off the couch forever.
But now? The fucking Reds, Carlos? Dusty Baker and his dickhead regressive management? YOUR MOTHER AND I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT. I don't blame myself. I blame that bad kid you started hanging out with a couple years ago. I told you those Gregg boys were trouble.
Anyway, I need to tell you something. Your mother and I, we're ... we're looking at Rafael and James. No, this isn't your ... yeah, it's your fault. There's nothing you can do about it. I mean, there is, but you don't seem to be able to do it. So, yeah ...
Um ... you want some McDonald's, buddy?