The Mud Hen Gang Bids Casper Farewell

BRAD THOMAS: So, when’s me ‘ol mate supposed to be he’ah? Ah ain’t got all day, ya know. Wastin’ time ah could be off findin’ me a sheila. That’s what he-ah’d be off’a doin’.
BRANDON INGE: C’mon, Brad. Be serious. Our friend just got traded. He’s probably down in the dumps and depressed. He needs us. We’re his friends…no, more than that. We’re his brothers of the diamond.
WILL RHYMES: I can’t believe The Balla’s leaving us. It isn’t fair, guys! It isn’t fair!

/starts crying
CLETE THOMAS: Can’t believe y’all tricked me into coming to ‘dis damn airport. Man, you pricks lied to ‘ol Clete. I thought we was headin’ up to the bar to watch some Brickyard qualifying. Casper’s an ass, I’m glad he’s leavin’, and he can go fu-

INGE: Enough, Clete! Enough of that malarkey! William, it’s going to be fine. Casper’s going to be just nifty in Seattle! He might even get to start every day. We should be happy for him.

RHYMES: (sniffle) I know…but…

/starts crying again

BRAD: Bloody ‘ell. Junior, tell ya what. You stop that’a cryin’, and when we get back, ‘ol Brad’ll strip ya down to ya diaper and let ya play in the Fifth Third sprinkl’ah, m’kay?

RHYMES: For real? No foolin’? Yay!

/taxi pulls up

CLETE: ‘Bout time.

/spits dip in Natty Ice can

INGE: Here he is, guys. Try not to look sad. Be strong for Casper, okay?

/taxi door flies open

CASPER WELLS: Wussup, wussup, WASSUP! Upstate muthafuckin’ Ballin in the pussy poundin’ hizzle, bitches! What up, B?

INGE: Hey, buddy.

WELLS: Big Willy style! Down low…of course.

/slaps five

RHYMES: Hey, Baller! You knew we wouldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye!

WELLS: Sup, Crocodile Dundizzle!

BRAD: G’day, Caspah.

WELLS: That’s Balla, son. And BIG CLETE! My hillbilly brotha from another…

CLETE: Shut the fuck up and get on your plane. I ain’t missin’ Jimmie Johnson for this sh…

INGE: CLETE! Be nice! Sorry, buddy. We knew you’d probably be feeling down and well, we just HAD to come and wish you a bon farewell!

WELLS: Down? The Balla feelin’ down? Shee-it, B. I ain’t eva had a bad day in my life, kid! The Balla’s never felt better, son! If I was any better, I’d havta be fucking TWINS to enjoy it all, you feel me? Seattle FUCKIN’ Washington, yo! A whole new city ‘o’ snatch ‘fo Da Balla to go Ballin’ in, you get me?

RHYMES: I feel ya, Baller! Hooray!

WELLS: See? Big Willie get it. But damn, B…don’t be sad. Upstate Balla gon SHINE in Seattle, son! Upstate Balla gon REPRESENT! ‘Dem bitches all hopped up on Starbucks ‘n’ shit? Oh, hell to da yeah! It be rainin’ and Da Balla comin’ to the rescue of some hoes? Usin’ my sack as an umbrella ‘n’ shit? Oh, damn. And they got them Asian broads out there, fellas. Oh, the Asian girls be LOVIN’ some of Da Balla! Wait up, yo…speakin’ of Asians, where my boy Sum Yun Guy at? I know you didn’t roll up in this bitch without my boy!

INGE: Yeah. About Fu…he’s on his way.

BRAD: That bloke needs a car.

RHYMES: He has a car…sort of. It’s the only way he’ll go anywhere.

CLETE: Shoot. Here dat crazy fuck come now.
INGE: How embarrassing.

WELLS: FU! What up, son!
FU-TE NI: Herrrrrro, Barra! I make it just in time! Blandon, you prease give tip to Ni’s dliver?

INGE: Sigh…guess so.

CLETE: Dumbass.

/whistles “I Love This Bar”

NI: You rearry reaving us, Barra? Become a Malinell? In Seattre?

WELLS: Yeah, kid. Da Balla’s headed out west. Gonna play with your brother Ichiro ‘n’ shit.

NI: Ichilo not my blothel…

INGE: He’s kidding, Fu. Yeah, Casper, we’re all gonna miss you. But at least Charlie’s going with you. That’s nice.

WELLS: Fuck Charlie. You ever walk up to some table of fine ass bitches and hafta spit game with some fool named “Furbush” next to you? Tramps all start laughin’ ‘an shit? Worst wingman ever, son. Well, other than Clete there.

CLETE: Suck my dick, boy. Can we get the fuck outta here yet?

/blows nose on rebel flag hankie

INGE: Well, be that as it may, it’s been a pleasure working with ya, Casper. We wish you nothing but the best of luck as a Mariner. Well, at least when you’re not playing us, right? Ha, ha , ha, ha!

RHYMES: Yeah, Baller! It’s not gonna be the same without ‘cha!

WELLS: Man, you bitches be too much. Ya know, I’m gonna miss you muthafuckas, too. But I gotta confess some shit at’cha. Da Balla…he ain’t gonna be Upstate Balla no ‘mo in Seattle, son.

NI: Whaa? No mole Barra? All you selious?

WELLS: Well, Seattle’s a different crib, ya know? Gotta update the image, son. That’s why from now on, Upstate Balla’s dead, yo. From now on, you can cell me Pacific Northwest Balla, fool!

BRAD: I like it, mate. Good’un.

RHYMES: Pacific Northwest Baller! Awesome!

CLETE: You still a bitch.

/sniffs armpits while belching

INGE: Whatever works for you, pal. I think your plane’s boarding, man. I guess this is goodbye.

WELLS: Shit, guess so, B. Thanks for payin’ all my debts I owed. And those two abortions. I still say those bitches be lyin’, but yeah. I know they all said you’s a sucka for that shit, but I’ll drop those ducketts back on ya, right? Soon as I’m set. Ya feel me?

INGE: Sure, pal. No rush.

WELLS: Yeah. Right. Clete, you redneck fuck. I ain’t sad to see leave yo ass. Tell yo crazy ass family they can quit threatenin’ me now since we ain’t playin’ ‘fo the same job, right?

CLETE: Whatever. I hope your fuckin’ plane crashes, you stupid shit.

WELLS: Brad? You suck as a pitcher, but you a damn good wingman. Bitches be lovin’ that stupid accent of yours. Gonna miss that. Remember what Da Balla taught ya?

BRAD: Koalas are for pettin’, not for lovin’, eh mate?

WELLS: Shit, not that. Well, yeah, THAT, but the other thing ‘bout America.

BRAD: Ha, oh yeah. No means yeah with the shelias here.

WELLS: That’s my boy, yo! BIG WILLY! You keep that scrappy shit up, you hear me, son?

RHYMES: I sure do, Baller! I’m gonna miss you!

/jumpes into Casper’s arms and hugs him

WELLS: A’ight…a’ight….that’s enough, dawg. Shit. Guess I’m outta this bitch. Peace, yo!

NI: Wait! What about Ni, Barra? You no say goodbye to Ni?

WELLS: I just playin’, dawg. I’m gonna miss you most of all, Jackie Chan. You my boy, son. In fact, you know what?

NI: What…you rove me?

WELLS: Naw, I ain’t down with that shit, son. Sorry. No, I’m ‘a gon do you a favor. From now on, YOU da new Upstate Balla, son! Fu-Te Kawasaki’s the new Balla of Toledo, you feel me?

NI: All you selious? I new Barra of Toredo?

WELLS: Don’t let a brotha down, yo.

NI: No way! I no ret you down, Pacific Nolthwest Barra! Da bitches be tlippin' if they no want Ni now!

WELLS: Good to hear, New Upstate Balla. A’ight. I’m out this bitch. Seeya next year when we WHOOP on yo ass!

RHYMES: Bye, Baller! You’re my hero!

BRAD: Later, mate! Good luck!

CLETE: Crash. I ain’t jokin’.

INGE: Seeya, Casper! Say hi to Nate for me if you see him!

NI: Goodbye, my fliend!

/kneels and whispers

My best fliend.

/single tear falls from eye
From the real Casper Wells’ twitter on Saturday:

“Very emotional day as I take this big step in my life and career. I will miss the city of Detroit, the friends in the organization, my brothers on the team, and the Motown fans. Detroit has helped to make me the person I am today and I will forever be grateful to the 313.”

Classy stuff, Casper. Thanks for everything and I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance in Detroit that you probably deserved.

Take care and good luck. Balla.