Full text of U.S. Army General Hank Steinbrenner's Remarks

Men,

Red Sox Nation? What a bunch of bullshit that is! This is a Yankee country. We're going to put the Yankees back on top and restore the universe to order.

But remember, no bastard ever won a pennant by dying for his team. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his team.

When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the Yankees. Now, I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a Yankee who lost and laughed. The very thought of losing is hateful to the Yankees.

Now, the Yankees are a team. They live, eat, sleep, fight as a team. The bilious bastards who write stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post don't know anything more about real baseball than they do about fornicating.

You know, by God, I actually pity those poor Redsock bastards we're going up against. By God, I do! We're not just going to beat the bastards. We're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the pockets of our catchers' mitts. We're going to murder those lousy Redsock bastards by the bushel.

Now, some of you rookies are wondering if you'll chicken-out in a big game. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Redsock is the enemy. Wade into him. Throw at him. Hit him in the head. When you put your hand into the bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's lunch buffet plate, you'll know what to do.

I don't want to hear that we are playing for a Wild Card. Let Johnny Redsock do that. We are playing for first and the only other thing we want is Papelbon. We're going to grab Papelbon by the nose, and we're gonna go through him like corn through a Gammons! And 30 years from now, when you're at Old Timers Day, and some punk-ass writer says, "What did you do in the great 2008 season?" -- you won't have to say, "Well, I shoveled shit in Scranton!"

All right. Now you sonovabitches know how I feel. That is all.