Meanwhile...(Last Week) in Washington...

(Washington Nationals clubhouse)
JIM RIGGLEMAN: Hot damn, Pudge! We did it, dog gonnit! We’re over the .500 mark! You believe that, man? You know the last time this franchise was over the .500 mark this late in the season?

RIGGLEMAN: Two oh oh five, my good amigo! Two thousand and five! Hell, most folks thought this team was still the Expos then, my man!

RODRIGUEZ: ¿Que? What is “Expo”?

RIGGLEMAN: An “Expo” is a thing of the past, my friend. I can’t thank you enough for the job you’re doing, Pudge. You’ve become quite a leader to these young men here.

RODRIGUEZ: Whatever. As long as I get paid. Trade me. I no care.

RIGGLEMAN: Haha…you’re too modest. I tell you, I’ve never been this proud of a baseball team in my entire life…

/loud banging on door

RIGGLEMAN: Holy heckfire, what’s that racket? Yeah, come in!

/door flies open

GARY SHEFFIELD: Jim MOTHERFUCKIN’ Riggleman! You dumb motherfucker!

RIGGLEMAN: Gary? Is that you? Wow…long time, no see. What are you doing here?

SHEFFIELD: Sheff’s here to change your life, asshole, THAT’S WHAT! Hey, Paco. Sheff remembers you. Fuck off!

RODRIGUEZ: ¿Que? Who you? Look familiar. Loud guy on that team in the dirty town. Wait. I no care. I go now…count money. Later, manager guy.


RIGGLEMAN: Now, Gary, what do you mean “change my life”? My life couldn’t be better right now. My team is playing better than they have since moving to Washington! Have you seen our record?

SHEFFIELD: Oh! Isn’t that fucking nice! You on a winning streak. Well, whoopdie fucking doo! You still suck, Riggleman! You still the fucking Nationals! You still got 90 year old Livan fucking Hernandez anchoring your staff! Sheff played with that Cuban fuck 20 years ago in Florida. He was in his sixties then, suckin’ on Fidel Castro’s dick!

RIGGLEMAN: Please, Gary. What do you want?

SHEFFIELD: Jim, you getting’ played, son.

RIGGLEMAN: Played? In what way?

SHEFFIELD: You on a winning streak. You got these boys playin’ over they head. Overpaid cocksuckers like Jayson Werth and that Mexican that just left, has-beens like Matt Stairs and Livan, scrub bitches like Jerry Hairston and Alex Cora…you got ‘em ALL hustlin’ and playin’ hard like they got a chance in hell at winning this shit.

RIGGLEMAN: We do! And I’m very proud of this team!

SHEFFIELD: Sheff feels ya, Jimbo. Sheff feels ya. But how this team rewardin’ a badass motherfucka like yourself, huh? How much they payin’ you?

RIGGLEMAN: I’m fairly compensa…

SHEFFIELD: You the LOWEST PAID motherfuckin’ manager in the WHOLE GAME, son! You make less than whoever the fuckin’ ROYALS have runnin’ they club this week! The asshole managing the Pirates make more than you, Jim! The PIRATES! Sheff knows what’s up! You bein’ played like a bitch!

RIGGLEMAN: Now, Gary, I’m sure that after this season…

SHEFFIELD: What? What happens then? THEY take the credit and dump your ass for that cocksucker Bobby Valentine? Or how ‘bout this shit. How about Ryan Zimmerman gets the clap from some DC hooker and goes on the DL for two months while they clean barnacles off his dick? What happens if Tom Gorzel…whateva his fuckin’ name is remembers that he absolutely fucking sucks? What then, Jim? You ain’t got no SECURITY, my man! Your GM just got his ass a five year extension? Rizzo got his love! Where was Jim Riggleman’s extension, huh? Tell me, Jim! Sheff’s waitin’!

RIGGLEMAN: I didn’t get one. But surely I’ll be extended when they see…

SHEFFIELD: When they see what, Jim? That they manager has NO FUCKING BALLS? Is that it? You the one working your ASS off for this team. You the one making turning their SHIT into SHINOLA! You the one with sleepless nights and the ulcers, know what I’m sayin’?


SHEFFIELD: You know what Sheff would do if Sheff was given Laynce Nix in the outfield and told to win games? Sheff would fucking shoot himself. You getting’ PLAYED, Jim!

RIGGLEMAN: I don’t know, Gary…

SHEFFIELD: You…don’t…know. Tell me, Jim. Is you a RiggleMAN or is you a RiggleBITCH?

RIGGLEMAN: Now that’s quite enough, Gary! I’m all man, I assure you.

SHEFFIELD: Then get your security, Jim. You tell them motherfuckers you want yo ass an extension and a raise or you outta this bitch. Fuck em. Someone else’ll hire your ass, right?

RIGGLEMAN: (quietly) It really isn’t fair, is it?

SHEFFIELD: FUCK NO, it ain’t fair, son! Sheff ain’t been treated fair in ten years! Sheff knows unfair treatment when Sheff sees it! You go get your contract RiggleMAN!

RIGGLEMAN: Right…RIGHT! You’re RIGHT, Gary! I’m gonna call them…FUCKERS up and get me a new contract! Or I’m out of here! Damn right! Jim Riggleman is no one’s door mat!

SHEFFIELD: Now you talkin’, Jim! Sheff’s proud of yo ass. You go tell that Rizzo bitch to lick yo nuts.

RIGGLEMAN: One thing, Gary. Why, after all these years, and when we were really never friends before, would you come here and help me now?

SHEFFIELD: I dunno. Don’t got much else to do. Tigers payin’ me deferred duckets to do jack shit. And I don’t like seein’ a good man like yourself getting’ treated like no dog. You better’n that, Jim.

RIGGLEMAN: Thank you, Gary. Take care of yourself. I’ve got a PHONE CALL to make!

/storms out

SHEFFIELD: You can come out now.

/bathroom door opens
DAVEY JOHNSON: Well done, Gary. The dumb bastard fell for it.

SHEFFIELD: Yup. They really gonna give you the job if that nutjob quits?

JOHNSON: That’s what they said. They were the only team still willing to give me a chance. Even the Mets said no.

SHEFFIELD: Shit, and they even took me!

JOHNSON: I know. Well congratulations, Gary. You did your job. Couldn’t have done it without you. I thank you.

SHEFFIELD: Take “thank you” and shove it up yo ass! Sheff wants a job, son! You said you’d add Sheff to the roster! Sheff can’t DEAL with bein’ around my family no more, Davey. Get Sheff outta the house, son! Sheff still gots game!

JOHNSON: I said I’d try, Gary. That’s all I can do.

SHEFFIELD: Motha FUCKA! Sheff got PLAYED again! Fuck you, Davey Johnson! FUCK YOU! Riggleman! HANG UP THE PHONE! HANG UP THAT PHONE! Awwww….shit!