ALL RIGHT, IF ANYBODY HERE THINKS WE CAN'T LOSE THIS THING, GET OUT NOW! GO! LEAVE THIS BLOG! WALK OUT THE DOOR AND NEVER COME BACK! YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE!

LISTENUP! EVERY DAMN ONE OF YOU.

I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANYBODY HERE SMILING!

IF I SEE ANYBODY SMILING, HE'LL BE GONE BEFORE ANYBODY CAN SAY, "SCOTT PROCTOR SAW THE DOCTOR."

EIGHT YEARS AGO, WHEN WE THREE GAMES UP IN OCTOBER, I REMEMBER SEEING SOME PEOPLE SMILING.

REMEMBER EIGHT YEARS AGO, CHILDREN? THREE UP IN OCTOBER? OR HAS THAT MEMORY BEEN BLISSFULLY ERASED FROM YOUR PLAYPEN CHALKBOARDS?

EIGHT YEARS AGO, SOME OF YOU PUT AWAY YOUR FURRY TOYS, PUT ON YOUR STAR WARS PAJAMAS AND TRUNDLED OFF TO BEDDYBIE, AND WE SUFFERED THE WORST COLLAPSE IN HISTORY.

THE. WORST. COLLAPSE. IN. HISTORY.

SO IF ANY OF YOU WIDDLE-BITTY BABIES THINK IT CAN'T HAPPEN AGAIN, THAT MOMMY AND DADDY WILL WIN THE PENNANT FOR YOU, THAT MEAN OLD MR. WORLD OF WARCRAFT SCHILLING IS IN THE POORHOUSE AND CAN'T HURT US... GO! RIGHT NOW!

GO SKIP DOWN CANDY LAND LANE, LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE! GO ROOT FOR THE METS, OR THE TRAVELING WILKES BERRIES, OR THE LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, ANGELS OF ANAHEIM. I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S PATOOTY. JUST TAKE YOUR HUGHIE LEWIS AND THE NEWS MOCASSIN SLIPPERS AND YOUR LARGEST CITIES OF OKLAHOMA LIGHT UP PLACEMAT OUT OF MY SIGHT. NOW.

ANYBODY GOT ANYTHING TO SAY?

YEAH. I DIDN'T THINK SO.

SOME OF US HAVE ALREADY STARTED GROWING THEIR PLAYOFF BEARDS. THAT'S RIDICULOUS. LISTEN, LADIES, WHEN YOU'RE DONE MAKING OUT WITH EACH OTHER IN THE SHOWER, SHAVE THOSE DAMN PLAYOFF BEARDS. YOU HAVEN'T EARNED THE RIGHT TO WEAR SALT-STREAKED UNDERGARMENTS. NOT AFTER LAST NIGHT.

LAST NIGHT. I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT LAST NIGHT. HELL, I WAS READING HOW EVERYBODY SAYS LAST NIGHT'S LOSS DOESN'T MATTER, THAT BOSTON IS TOO FAR BEHIND, THAT THEY'RE OUT OF THE RACE, SO WE SHOULDN'T WORRY.

LISTENUP: TODAY, WE STAND ON THE CROSSROADS OF A SLUMP. DO YOU HEAR ME, CHILDREN? THE CROSSROADS OF A SLUMP.

LOSE TODAY, AND WE WILL HAVE LOST SEVEN OUT OF OUR LAST 10 GAMES - THE ONLY VICTORIES COMING OVER SEATTLE.

THAT'S A SLUMP, MY LITTLE BREAKFAST CHICADEES.

THAT'S A COLLAPSE, ALL YOU FUTURE DOCTOR PILLINGTON D. DOLITTLES.

THAT'S A DISASTER, YOU PROFESSOR BLUE NOSE IGLOOS OF THE NORTHERN WOODS.

SOME OF YOU WANNA THINK THE REDSOCKS NECKS HAVE BEEN COOKED, AND LAST NIGHT'S LOSS MEANT NOTHING TO THEM.

LOSE TODAY, GIRLIES, AND WATCH WHAT HAPPENS.

LOSE TODAY, LAVERNS AND SHIRLEYS, AND WATCH WHAT IT DOES TO THEM.

ANYBODY DISAGREES, HERE'S THE DOOR. GO. GO, DAMMIT, GO!

YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK.