Cameraman: "That Randy Johnson, he can fuss." Photographer: "Fuss, fuss... I think Randy likes to scream at us." Cameraman: "Probably he means no harm." Photographer: "He's really very short on charm. " Cameraman: "You have a great gift for rhyme." Photographer: "Yes, yes, some of the time." Randy Johnson: "Enough of that!" Cameraman: "Randy, are there rocks ahead?" Photographer: "If there are, we all be dead." Randy Johnson: "No more rhymes now, I mean it." Photographer: "Anybody want a peanut?" Randy Johnson: "DYEEAAHHHHHH!!!"
A lot of people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch of unconnected incidents and things. They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice of coincidence that lays on top of everything. Give you an example, show you what I mean: suppose you're thinkin' about a plate o' shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate o' shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in lookin' for one, either. It's all part of a cosmic unconciousness.
I had a bad feeling when I got into the car and they were playing his call of Edgar's Division Series-winning double in 1995 for what otherwise would have been no reason, but I assumed it was because he was retiring. RIP.