Bardball

by Tommy Lasorda

I have never, ever,
since I managed,
ever
told a pitcher to throw at anybody,
nor will I ever.

And if I ever did,
I certainly wouldn’t
make him throw
at a
f–king .130 hitter like Lefebvre
or f–king Bevacqua,
who couldn’t hit water
if he fell
out of a f–king boat.

And I guaran-f–king-tee you this:
When I pitched
and I was going to pitch against a team
that had guys on it
like Bevacqua,
I sent a f–king limousine
to get the c–ksucker
to make sure
he was in the motherf–king lineup
because I kicked that c–ksucker’s ass
any day of the week.

He’s a f–king motherf–king big mouth,
I’ll tell you that.