A Press Conference Goes Bad

Toronto Blue Jays’ General Manager Ross Atkins abruptly left a press conference in tears this afternoon after being asked by Richard T. Enispay about the signing of Rafael Soriano to a minor league contract. Atkins started the press conference in a bubbly mood, gushing about how the signing was a textbook example of Mark Shapiro’s Poo Poo Strategy in which if one throws enough feces against the wall, one might get enough of it to stick on the wall to have an outfield platoon David Dellucci and Jason Michaels. Enispay asked Atkins why anyone would want shit to stick to the wall anyway, and Atkins began what appeared to be some sort of mental breakdown.

“Stop being so negative!” stammered Atkins. “Do you know how hard it is to work for my boss? He demands do be called ‘Supreme Emperor’, even in casual conversations. When he get it through his head that he has identified the perfect reclamation project, he obsesses with that player for years. The other day I walked in a dark bathroom and heard him in the stall muttering something about how Alex Escobar could still be the chosen one if only Alex would return his calls. I tried to back out there before he heard me, but no such luck. He started screaming at me to sign Rafael, sign Rafael! All I could think is what Rafael is this asshole talking about? Betancourt? Perez? Certainly not Furcal because Furcal never played for the Indians.

Then he started babbling something about Dominican League peripherals be damned, a 2.84 ERA is a 2.84 ERA, and it didn’t matter if he had given up more hits than innings pitched, and what do declining strikeout rates matter in the Dominican League because all those fuckers do is hack, and the Blue Jays need a Rafael because Rafael is the patron saints of travelers, physicians, and match makers, and everyone would be getting lucky in Dunedin this year with no feat of venereal diseases if Rafael was in camp. He then started singing “Leaving on Jet Plane” from the top – ‘My bags are packed, I am ready to go, and something about a goddamn taxi blowing its horn’, and I am wondering if whatever he puts on the ferret face of his to loosen up the tightness of that bad facelift is seeping into his brain.”

At this point Enispay tried to console Atkins, placing hand on his shoulder, which caused Atkins to screech, “Don’t touch me! He will know! He always knows!” The rest of the media looked on in stunned silence as Atkins ran out of the room sobbing.

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