“Oh no! The Yankees are trailing! Wait. No they’re not. They’re winning, but it’s ever so close! It’s troubling me! We’ve waited oh-so-many years for our 87th championship. Few can understand the horror of all this losing! When was our last win? 3 years ago? Has it been longer? Please tell me not. I don’t think I can bear it. We must expand our payroll to 8.3 billion next year. That’s it! We will sign EVERY player in Major League Baseball to a contract! Yes. And those we won’t fit on our roster, we can give money to simply NOT play. Then we will win every year! It will be top-notch! I will gladly pay another 1500 dollars for my seat to make it so!
If the Yankees lose this game, I will be so upset I’ll fire one of my maids. Yes, I’ll do that. The one that left a watermark on my quartz counter top a fortnight ago! The nerve of that woman! It marred my reflection! I bet she’s an Angels fan. I’m sure of it. The butler, I can’t recall his name, found her singing the praises of that Vladimir Guerrero fellow – in song form! Ghastly! And why does Los Angeles have the world’s greatest Russian baseball player and not the Yankees? It is a tragedy of the worst kind! How can we be expected to win, yet again, without quality Siberian scouting?? Egads man being a fan is so dreadful!
It has been months since we’ve won a shiny, shiny trophy. I swear on Louis Comfort Tiffany that if we don’t win this year I will no longer christen my new yachts Yankee Clipper (XI, XII, XIII, etc.). It is too much to ask of me! AND I will fire Admiral Girardi! He is not related, but how can I sail the Mediterranean with such a non-championshippy man? I shan’t! OHHH, the vapors are upon me!
The is the most horrible of days! Oh wait. We’ve won. Glorious. Prescott – to the Bentley!”