“You Know What?” by Bob Nutting

Wow!  What a season we’ve had here in Pittsburgh.  I would like to thank my staff for providing such a great thrill ride this Fall.  It’s been a while since Pittsburghers were able to be proud of their baseball team.  The Pirates organization had its first winning season in 21 years, as well as its first playoff run in as much time.  We saw record attendance levels and a great boost in our local economy.  Overall, the team has been a big winner for Pittsburgh this season.

And you know what?  You all are so welcome.

I’ve spent the better part of the last ten years being the spittoon of this town.  Every move I made, some dipstick from Verona said I didn’t know what I was doing.  Every time I traded some sucky player for a draft pick or a prospect, some dope in Bethel Park called Bob Pompieni to question my motives.  There were people who nearly messed themselves when I drafted Gerrit Cole in the first round.  You know who you are, and there are a lot of you.

And you know what you can all do now?  You can all suck it.

“Well, how are you going to repeat it?” that’s what some unemployed, tub-of-lard in Monroeville is complaining about right now.  He’s spitting out my name along with flecks of Cheetoh’s at the BP he’s loitering at.  “Bob Nutting needs to sign AJ Burnett and Marlon Byrd and get Pedro Alvarez to agree a long-term deal.”

You know what?  No I don’t.

You see, I own the team.  I can do whatever I want.  I could fire Clint Hurdle for chewing too much gum.  I could trade McCutchen for a box of crackerjacks if I want to.   I could make Starling Marte learn English.  I control this thing that you pour your life into.  Do you understand?  I control it.  And what I did this year was nothing short of a miracle.  After years of calling for boycotts and offering ill-advised opinions to your imbecile friends at whatever local dump you frequent, you mouth-breathing idiots were given something to live for in October.

So you know what?  You know what?  Why don’t you climb in your little piece of crap jalopy that’s parked outside on the Southside Slopes, load up your stupid moron kids, and take them up to Seven Springs for a nice post-season celebration.

Suck.  It.

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