A Cell Phone Rings at McAfee Coliseum

(looks at phone) I don't recognize this number. (answers) Hello?

(silence)

Hel-loooo, is anyone there?

(whispering) You worthless, ungrateful lout. I can't believe you did this to me...

What? Hey, who is this?

Shut up, punk. I'm doing the talking here. I can't believe I rearranged my life just to watch you pitch, and for what, to see my team be humiliated...

Hey lady, I don't know what you want or even who you are...

You don't know who I am? YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM??? I'll tell you who I am. I'm the one who went to bed at 7:00 last night just so I could get up and watch you make your stupid little start in the middle of the night. If I had known how badly you'd screw it up, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble.

Screw it up? I was great!

Sure you were, Mr. Big Shot, and that's the problem. The Red Sox rescued you from the Mets' Rule 5 scrap heap, gave you a chance to pitch when you sucked wind, even gave you a World Series ring, and what thanks do they get? You shut them out for seven innings. You should be ashamed of yourself. I swear, I oughtta...

Wait a minute...your voice sounds familiar. Who is this? Do I know you?

Oh, how soon they forget. Maybe this rings a bell. "Do me, Lenny" (clap, clap, clap clap clap)...

That's it! I knew I recognized your voice from somewhere. Hey, I thought you liked me!

"Liked" being the operative word, douchebag. Past tense. You had your chance and you blew it. If you can't show a little more loyalty, I'm banishing you forever from my erotic fantasies. (click)

(staring at the phone) Man, that was scary. What a psycho.

A Cell Phone Rings One Morning in Oakland...

(rubbing eyes) What the...Hello?
(pause) Yeah, uh, DiNardo?
Yeah, who's this?
It's Roy Halladay, calling from Toronto.
Halladay? Crap, man, what time is it?
Well let's see, it's 7:30 here, I guess that makes it, what, about 4:30 where you are?
4:30? In the morning?! F-ing A...
Hey, I'm really sorry, DiNardo. I didn't know who else to call.
Why would you call anyone so early in the morning? And why are you calling me?
DiNardo, I need your help. I'm...well, I'm struggling right know. Maybe you heard, I kinda, um, last night I sort of, um... (sigh)
C'mon man, I don't know what your problem is, but I hardly know you. What do I have to do with anything that happened to you last night?
Well, here's the thing. We played the Red Sox, and well, they knocked me around a bit.
Oh, the Red Sox game. (chuckling) Yeah, I heard about that.
See, here's the problem. I'm just not accustomed to this kind of adversity. It was bad enough that I gave up (mumble) runs in five innings...
Sorry, I didn't get that... say again?
I said, I gave up (mumble) runs in five innings...
How many runs?
Eight, OK? I gave up EIGHT RUNS. There, I said it. Are you happy now? (uncontrolled sobbing)
Oh, jeez, don't go crying. Halladay, I'm serious, stop it. Please. You're embarrassing yourself.
I can't help it, I just don't know... (sniff) I just don't know what to do. Why is this happening to our team? Why is this happening to me? Where do I go from here? What's the meaning of life? I'm just so...so...afraid. (more sobbing)
Oh, man. OK, what the hell... What are you afraid of, Halladay?
I'm afraid my teammates will turn on me like, um... I don't know how to put this gently, DiNardo, but I'm afraid they might do something mean, like, maybe... Well, remember that time you got locked in my foot locker? I'm afraid of something like that!
What? How did you know about that?
Uh, DiNardo, everybody knows about it. Your buddy Arroyo got wasted after the All-Star game last year and sang a song about it. Between the story and his voice, man, we couldn't stop laughing...
Now wait just a minute. Are you telling me that this has become my reputation in major league baseball? Getting shut into the so-called Great Doc Halladay's foot locker? Son of a... In case you haven't noticed, Halladay, while you're licking your wounds, I'm having a great year. I have an ERA under 2, I'm striking guys out, just last night I pitched a lights-out ninth. It has finally come together for me. Just because you're apparently on the down side, and just because my former best friend is a fink, doesn't give you the right to wake me up in the middle of the freakin' night—it's 4:30, for chrissake! Man, am I pissed. I'm gonna kill Bronson.
Hey, I didn't mean to insult you or anything. All I wanted was some sympathy.
Well you won't get any from me. Call the Yankees. (click)
(sigh) It's lonely at the bottom. (hangs up the phone)

A cell phone rings in Cincinnati

::stares at his phone:: Come on, Bronson, I know you're there!
::answers the phone with a heavy sigh:: Hey, Len.
Bronson, man, CONGRATULATIONS! $25 million more with two more years. TWENTY FIVE MILLION! Way to go, man!
Thanks.
Thanks? That's it? Thanks? Bronson, aren't you happy?
Happy? Yeah, I guess so.
You don't sound happy. Are you drunk?
No, I'm not drunk. I'm just sitting here reading my new contract.
Dude, how cool is that? The Reds hooked you up until 2010 and threw stupid money at you!!! You should buy Theo a fruit basket.
A fruitbasket? Lenny, I just signed a contract that practically guarantees I'll spend the next five years in Cincinnati. CINCINNATI.
For an extra twenty-five million dollars, dude!
Lenny, you've never been to Cincinnati, have you?
Well, no. I've flown OVER it though. It looks nice.
(sighs) I guess.
Hey, they have the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, there!

Lenny, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is in Cleveland.
I knew that. (long pause) Hey, Bron, look at it this way, 2o1o is in three years. By then you could throw out your shoulder or get hit in the head with a line drive!
Well, at least I have that going for me.
Don't be sad, Bronson. Think of all that money you're going to make.
I know, Len. But now that I've signed this extension, I realize that money isn't everything:

(Photo by Matthew Bower)

Related Entries:
A cell phone rings in the middle of the night... (Part 1)
A cell phone rings in the middle of the night... (Part 2)
A cell phone rings late in the afternoon...
A cell phone rings in a lonely hotel room...
Somewhere in Kansas City, a cell phone rings...
A cell phone rings in Boston

With props (or apologies) to Surviving Grady and The Dugout.

(Beazer's note: I'm both sad and happy about this. So right now, this is the best I can do. Kick some ass in Cincinnati, B. - Or, suck it big time so that Krivsky wants to trade you! That would work too!)