Somewhere in Minnesota, gathered in the back room of a little-known bar...

You just say the word, Schill, and the deed is done, brother.
Deed? What deed? Mike, it's one loss, it isn't a big deal.
I'm just saying, I have a bow and I know how to use it.
You should take him up on it, Schill...Tavarez is killing us.
Say that to my face, Perra!
The name's Beckett, genius!
Uh, Josh, perra means bitch.
That does it! Forget the bow, I'll kick his ass myself!
Why are you all getting so bent out of shape? We lost one game. We're tied for first place. Things could be much worse.
You're right. Matty could be pitching tomorrow.
Uh, Mike? I am pitching tomorrow.
Crap!
I don't know why Terry just doesn't let me pitch every game. I can start, I can close...heck, I'm pretty sure there isn't anything I can't do!
Easy there, rook. Season isn't even halfway through.
Schill's right. Let's all just get drunk and tomorrow will take care of itself.
About tomorrow, guys. I've decided that Manny, Papi, Trot, Tek, Mikey Lowell and Mark Loretta all need some rest. Couple of you bullpen guys are going to have to pull infield duty...
Mike, would you consider lending out that bow?

(Note from Beazer: This was, of course, written before the Twins swept the Red Sox. The bow in question has since been removed from the Red Sox clubhouse in the name of safety for everyone.)