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.
The reasons: Tom Yawkey: didn't spend money as an owner. Racism: The Red Sox were one of the last teams to sign Black and Latin American players. They would sign bad white players and thumb their nose up at the League, up until the seventies.