I can see them all sitting at the bar after the game.
Pedroia: Dude, dude, let's totally f*** with them...let's...let's...dude, let's go down by 5 runs or some s*** to a f***ing terrible team!
Youk: *laughing uncontrollably* YES! Josh, can you, like, give up a lot of runs or something?
Beckett: Pfff, sure. Weren't you there in 2008?
Lackey: Let's...uh...*hic*...dude, you guys see that chick, I'm...I'm totally gonna nail her
Scutaro: Uh, John, that's a karaoke machine.
Lackey: Well, f***..uh, f*** you then, ******* *passes out*
Ellsbury: So after Josh gives up a bunch of runs we're gonna win, right?
Varitek: Naturally.
Crawford: Can't we just win normally, score early, or something?
Youkilis: What, and miss out on the internet outrage? Every night I come home and read that s***, it's hilarious.
Clearly irritated waitress: Here's your drinks, guys. Try to keep it down over here.
Crawford: She's pissed
Ellsbury: Yeah man, she's mad as hell. Jarrod, why do you insist on making servers write your name on your reciept?
Saltalamacchia: It's the most fun I get to have. You should have seen the old lady at Denny's the other night, I swear the vein in her forehead almost popped. Besides, this waitress isn't pissed at me, I'm not the one who tried stuffing those rolls of pennies in her shirt, Jon...Jon? Where did he go?
Papelbon, bursting into room through the back door with a dead raccoon clutched in his hand: GUYS I JUST MADE THESE TWO HOBOS FIGHT EACH OTHER FOR TEN BUCKS! COME SEE! WOOOOOOOOOO PAPELBOOOONNNNNNN! *smashes bottle of gold fleck vodka over his own head, grabs nearest woman and licks her face*
Lackey: *burps slightly and mumbles*
Josh Reddick and David Ortiz, sitting quietly at nearby table with dates: *sigh*
Dates: Do you two know those guys?
Reddick and Ortiz: *share surreptitious look*: Um...no. Wine?