*The curtain raises to the scene of a simple kitchen. Hank Steinbrenner, wearing a pin-striped apron, wears a white chef hat and puffs on a filter-less cigarette. Hank's father George sits in a tennis judge's chair in the middle of the stage in the back.*
Joe Girardi and Brian Cashman enter, stage right, with Cashman holding a section of the sports page. He taps the paper several times and says, "Did you see this?"
"Yeah, I saw it," Hank grumbles, "and I LOVE it!"
"Well, lemme read it to you once more," Cashman says, unruffling the paper with conviction.
"'Chamberlain delivered precisely the type of performance the,'" he pauses before finally chuckling out, "'the YANKEES...were hoping he would when they moved him into the rotation last month.'"
"Yeah, all those ESPN, Fox, newspaper types," Hank rumbles, while pulling out a pie tin, "all those jagoffs who called US jagoffs, well, they're going to eat their words."
"Oh yeah," Girardi says. "And the way Joba's pitched, it sure makes us look good."
George sits with his fingers interlocked, his head swiveling side-to-side with each volley.
"No doubt," Hank says, "especially now that Wang's hurt. Where would we be without him? Now, hand me that bowl in the fridge."
Cashman pulls open the door, his face glows from the inside light and pulls out a clear bowl of red and brown organs.
"What the hell is that?" Girardi asks with a disgusted look on his face.
"It's cow liver, deer heart and tripe," Hank says matter-of-factly.
"Wh-What for?" asks Cashman.
"Why, it's a special recipe for all those doubters!" Hank resounds, "good ol' fashioned humble pie."
All the men turn and hold their stomachs reverberating "Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha..."
*Curtain closes with Hank holding up the filled pie tin and a big smile lifting the stub of his cigarette*
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