“General Patton is my idol,” said an upbeat Eric Wedge before Wednesday’ night’s game versus the Boston Red Sox. “However, tonight I am Douglas C. Niedermeyer, the greatest disciplinarian of all time. Patton took care of the Nazis, but Neidermeyer got the Deltas off campus. My boys need some good old fashioned ROTC abuse. I have a mind to slap Peralta’s fat face, but the players’ union would get bent. Any player who doesn’t get a hit tonight will have their draft board notified. Tonight we consecrate the bond of obedience.”
When asked by Terry Pluto if he was losing his mind, Wedge replied, “What difference does that make?” Sanity is not a job requirement for a major league manager. Billy Martin was batshit. Crazy is just being misunderstood in today’s times. I really miss the Eighties when things were crystal clear.”
’99 red balloons.
floating in the summer sky.
Panic bells, it’s red alert.
There’s something here from somewhere else.
The war machine springs to life.
Opens up one eager eye.
Focusing it on the sky.
Where 99 red balloons go by’
As Greg Khin once said, they just don’t write like that anymore.”
All of the Indians players refused comment on their manager’s newest antic, except Kelly Shoppach who said, “Why can’t he do this stuff between Betancourt’s pitches to make the waiting go quicker? Maybe then our defense wouldn’t fall asleep. Maybe he’d forget to put Jensen Lewis in the damn game. Or not forget to take him out.”
After the game, a subdued Wedge said, “I should have slapped Peralta’s fat face.