Emergency Baseball Report

This thing is gonna be truncated.

“Just happy to be in the show! Call me Bob, thanks.”

“I’m Bob. Baseball. Over. Babes. All business. Gotta be, otherwise they’ll ship my ass back to Rochester.”

“Bob? Bobby. Life’s too short. Baseball's a kid’s game. I’ve been doing this a while now, and I’ve never felt more free. Gotta show the world the real me!”

“Ha! Bobby? No, sir. It’s Bob! Bobby’s a kid’s name. A guy who makes errors. Costs his team the game. Like my cookie duster? I look like a Chesapeake Wharf Detective. Lt. Bob Grich. Patrolling the infield. Watch yourself.”

“It’s always been Bobby. Gotta have some fun in Baltimore. Can’t I? Can’t Bobby have any fucking fun? Or no? Is that not in the cards. Jesus H Christ.”

“The best part is when the fans chant Bobby when I’m at the plate. Love it!”

“I’ll thank you to address me as Bob. Okay? Consider this your last warning.”

“I feel like I don’t even have a first name. Just call me Grich. That’s how the world sees me. How did Grich do tonight? 0-4 again? … I am so alone.”

“I’m back in California. Bob’s fresh start. No. I don’t need a hat. With hair like this?”

“Sharon? We met on Dennis Wilson’s boat in Marina Del Rey. I’m Bob. Bobby. Doesn’t matter. The baseball guy. From down Anaheim way. That night I was playing the banjo. Ha! Why not? It got your attention, didn’t it? It’s true what you said: Music is a language. And the looks we shared that evening seemed to say a lot, too. Without using any words. Anyway, I should tell you that I’m allergic to Pinot Grigio. I didn’t know that until I went to the doctor the next morning. No hard feelings?”

“I’m getting too old for this shit. Call me Bob.”

“I’m Dave. Not Bob. Not Bobby. And I don’t feel like talking. And I really don’t feel like answering questions directed at Bob.”

“It says Bobby? Weird. I sign everything Bob. That’s who I am.”

“Are you fucking high? I sign everything Bobby. For years!!”

“I’m Bobby. Always been Bobby. I love baseball. And I love these red Pony cleats. How are you?”

“It’s just Bob. My fucking back is killing me. Thinking of hanging it up, actually. I sunk a lot of cash into my brother-in-law’s drapery business up in Tarzana and it is going bananas. I love the fabrics. The location. All of it. Stop by.”

“Call me Bobby. Everyone calls me that.”