Torre done with the Yanks?

I know what you’re thinking. That I’m out of New York like Lance Bass and the closest. Fuck that. If the Yanks don’t want me, I don’t want them, motherfucker.

If the Boss wants to blame another playoff series loss on me, he should be nervous to fall asleep at night. What about the players?

We were loaded this year. A-Rod, Captain Pussyman, Matsui… But come playoff time, Pussyman couldn’t’ tell the difference between a double play and a threesome. Alex’s postseason woes continued. And the Rocket’s rocket can’t fire the heat anymore, if you catch my drift, motherfucker.

Let’s remember here: we started 9-14, were 14 and a half back before nearly winning the division and had a pitching rotation even the D-Rays could rough up. I’m a fucking saint, motherfucker. Not a goat.

Verducci even picked me for Manager or the Year in last week’s SI. You hear that. Fuckin’ Manager of the Year. Verducci. We didn’t even fuck or nothin’.

If the Yankees want to move in another direction, that’s their loss. C’mon. Mattingly? He couldn’t find his ass with a square of toilet paper. Girardi’s the same way. And La Russa’s a drunk.

Is this the end? That’s like asking if the sky is green, and we all full well know it isn’t green, motherfucker. I might be done in New York, but Joe Torre is never done. I’m the Manager of fucking Managers. I’m not done until I say I’m done. And that’s the way it’s gonna be. Motherfucker.

The Yankees are coming on strong

I recognize that smell, motherfucker. It’s the smell of fear. And you all are living in fear. We’re coming faster than a 15-year-old getting his first tugjob.

Eight of nine, motherfucker. Sweep the Tribe. We go from 14 and a half back to just four games behind the Sox. Don’t even try to wipe this smile off my face, motherfucker.

They could just give me Manager of the Year right now. If they don’t want to, that’s fine. I don’t need a trophy to validate how fucking awesome I am. I can get a hooker to do that. Or Jeter. Captain Pussyman would tell me my ass looks good in baseball pants if I asked him to. I wouldn’t. That’d be fucked. But you get the point.

And don’t think for a second I’m concerned about Seattle. C’mon, Richie Sexson? He might be the worst hitter to ever hold a bat. And Weaver?! Don’t get me started. Getting rid of him was the best thing this franchise has done besides hiring me.

We might as well just call the season right now. I mean, they can finish out the season and all, but they should just hand over the World Series trophy now. My fingers are feeling a bit bare. It’s either another ring or I’m going to go splurge on some blow. A man has needs, ya know? Buying myself gifts from time to time is completely normal.

Did we get sidetracked? We did. Sorry. Let’s talk more about how my team is gonna make your team look like the fucking Pony League All-Stars. We’re so strong right now, we might never lose again. Fuck it. We’ll rip off 50 in a row. Think that might be a record. But records are meant to be broken, bitch.

Don’t even bother looking over your shoulder. Give us a week, and you’ll be looking straight ahead. Motherfucker.

The Yankees are scoring runs

Hi, motherfuckers. It’s me again. Have you checked the boxscores lately? You should. That’s if you can count high enough.

Can you count to 25? Bet you can’t, motherfucker. That’s how many hits we smacked off the Devil Rays yesterday. And we had 20 hits the day before. I coulda put Helen Keller in there and she woulda gone 4-5 with a jack and six RBIs.

Probably a good thing Keller’s not on our team. Otherwise Jeter would go off being all Captain Pussyman and try to get his knob slobbed.

It’s also a good thing Alex is hitting because otherwise I’d stick a bat up his ass. Should see that guy’s ego. Fucking bigger than my johnson. He demands we call him A-big-Rod. Narcissistic fuck. But he hits home runs. I like that in a man.

So people were saying the playoffs were out of reach. Well I say fuck that, motherfucker. We’re five over, only seven and a half out of first, still in the Wild Card hunt. You know what “hunt” sorta sounds like? No. Not that. You sick fuck. It’s sounds like bunt, something we haven’t been having to do much of lately. We just hit homers and doubles and fucking more homers. Barry Bonds should be looking over his shoulder because Shelley Duncan’s coming for him.

Speaking of Shelley, I like that he’s been hitting home runs, because if he wasn’t, I’d probably have Matsui take a fucking Samurai sword to his johnson. What kind of name is Shelley? Grow a pair of tits and I’ll call you Shelley, motherfucker. Until then, I’m calling your ass Joe. Cuz that’s a fucking man’s name. Guy’s named Joe hit home runs.

This hit parade the last few days was all my doing. Four rings can do that. I tell ’em to go hit the fuck out of the ball and they fucking listen because I have four fucking rings, motherfucker.

We’ll be in this thing by the end. We’re hotter than Damon’s last piece of ass. When this thing’s said and done, each finger on my right hand will be covered in jewelry. Oh, you think I’m arrogant? I’m confident, motherfucker. And confidence wins ball games. So does 25 hits. Motherfucker.

Torre: ‘Hot seat? What hot seat?’

Do I look like a guy who’s gonna get fired? Say it, motherfucker. Dare you.

Look at me. That wry smile, strong jaw, defined features. I breath fucking success, motherfucker.

Oh, my owner thinks our 9-14 start “isn’t acceptable”? Well I don’t “fucking care,” motherfucker.

You better have my back, Steiny. You better be willing to fuck my ass if I ask for it. I won’t. That’d be kinda fucked up. But my point is you should be bending over backwards for me, motherfucker.

I should be on the fucking cold seat right now, if such a thing existed. We’re 9-14! That’s five games under. Five! We’ll play the Royals soon. We’ll be back at .500 faster than you can say fuckeddamonswife.

Who cares that our payroll is nearly 200 mil. Have you seen our pitching staff? Throw Jeff Weaver in there and that motherfucker from Rookie of the Year, and then we’ll talk about bad pitching staffs, motherfucker. For now, we’ll be fine.

Our lineup is filled with more hitters than the domestic abuse wing of Leavenworth. A-Rod is raking the shit out of the ball. Jeter’s doing his thang. That’s right, bitch. I just said thang. Matsui — I don’t really get him — but he smashes.

Who says pitching wins championships? Oh, you do? Well have you won four World Series rings, motherfucker? That’s four. As in one, two, three, four. I got enough rings to nearly cover by ass-whiping hand. And by the time I’m done here, I’ll have enough rings to cover my jerking hand too.

That was nice and all for Jeter to say what he did…saying my treatment was “unfair.” The criticism I’m taking is “unfair” It’s also “fucked.” But I don’t need your cliché responses, motherfucker. Go be Captain Pussyman, or whatever the fuck it is that you and Damon joke about on road trips.

I can take care of myself, motherfucker. Remember that. I am Joe Fucking Torre. Four rings. An MVP. Two Manager of the Year awards. This is my town. My team. And if you want to even think otherwise, take a number to go fuck yourself. Motherfucker.