JOE TORRE slumbers peacefully in his footy pajamas and stocking cap. He snores gently, his breath reeking of green tea and peach pits. He sleeps alone, for his young wife is in a hotel room with Chris Britton. The VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL enters the bedroom and begins loudly rattling his chains. His right arm is disconnected at the shoulder and drags on the floor, held in place only by grotesquely stretched skin. Joe Torre sleeps on.
VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL
How can this guy sleep after what he's done to me?The ghost hovers over Torre and slaps him hard across the face with his left hand. The aged manager doesn't stir. The ghost pinches Torre's nostrils shut until he wakes up in a fit of coughing and wheezing.
JOE
Wha? Huh? Wha? What's happening? Who the fuck are you?!?!
VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL
I am the Vengeful Ghost of Paul Quantrill. You might remember me from the 2004 New York Yankees. I was part of something wonderful called QuanGorMo. Unfortunately, you destroyed the precious gift you were granted by pitching me until my arm fell off and I died. Now I am doomed to wander the baseball afterlife carrying these chains. And look at what has become of my once vital right arm. I was never an effective pitcher again.The ghost tries to move his right arm, but it only flops around on the ground like a dead fish.
JOE
Wow, that is repulsive. Sorry, man, but what could I do? We had to win ballgames. There's so much pressure to win every night in New York! The Red Sox are always on our tail!
VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL
And how did that work out for you in 2004, you senile fuck? When you burn out your only decent pitchers by August, they've got nothing left for the playoffs. And you can really damage their careers.
JOE
Fuck you, what do you know? You've never sat in my seat on the bench. You can't understand what it's like to manage the New York Motherhumpin' Yankees. You're just a relief pitcher. Disposable. Expendable. I'm Joe Torre. Maybe you've heard of me? What's that? I can't hear you with my FOUR WORLD SERIES RINGS CLOGGING MY EARS. Go haunt Dallas Green, you spook.
VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL
(knees Joe Torre in the gut)
It's not going to be that simple. You see, there are others just like me. Others who hate you and want you fired, incapacitated or both. Say hello to my friends.The angry, bitter spirits of TOM GORDON, TANYON STURTZE, SCOTT PROCTOR and LUIS VIZCAINO appear at the foot of Torre's bed. They are all dragging their right arms on the floor, and moaning inconsolably.
JOE
Yeah...um...about that...I'm...uh...sorry. I...uh...didn't mean to...
VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL
We know there was no intent, you fool. That's why you're still breathing. But you are willfully neglectful and aggressively stupid with your bullpen management. The reason we are here tonight is because....there is another.
JOE
Another what?
VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL
Another.The Vengeful Ghost of Paul Quantrill motions (left-handed) to the bedroom window, which has suddenly transformed into a portal through time and space. Joe Torre can see himself, sitting in the dugout on August 30, in a game against the Red Sox.
PAST RON GUIDRY
What do you think, Joe? Shut the kid down for day?
PAST JOE TORRE
Nah, Joba's tough. Send him out there for another inning.
PAST RON GUIDRY
But we have a 5-0 lead! And he's only 21...
PAST JOE TORRE
Fuck it. Joba, get back out there, kid. What can it hurt?Back in his bed, Joe Torre gasps.
PRESENT JOE TORRE
Oh my Lord! How could be I so naive? So wrong? When there's so much research about the damage of overusing young pitchers? What have I done? I'm sorry, to all of you!Joe Torre breaks down into pathetic sobbing.
VENGEFUL GHOST OF PAUL QUANTRILL
It is too late for us. But not...for him. Change now, Joe Torre, or join us in eternal damnation.FADE OUT.
