[jg2977]

WHITE GOODMAN STYLE (From Dodgeball)
Over-the-top intensity, narcissistic flair, dramatic pauses… and yes, protein shakes are implied.

WELL, WELL, WELL... LOOK WHO DECIDED TO SHOW UP TO THE WORLD SERIES.
The Baltimore Orioles, ladies and gentlemen. A team of—let’s be honest—mediocre mortals... somehow mustering the strength to beat MY San Francisco Giants, the most elite collection of baseball specimens this side of Mount Olympus. And how did they do it? Performance... through... pain. That’s right. That’s what winners are made of.

But don’t get too cocky, Baltimore. You’ve tied the series. You didn’t win an Oscar.

Now let’s talk about this "game."
8 to 4?! Ohhh please... that’s not baseball—that’s a fluke with good lighting.
Sure, Sergio Herrera went 3-for-3, drove in three runs, and looked like a slightly above-average version of me during my 2003 Celebrity Softball League MVP season. But I digress...

You know who really lost this game? San Francisco’s pitching.
Bryant Frank? More like Bryant Flatline.
85 pitches of pure existential dread. He was throwing meatballs like it was a pasta buffet at Globo Gym—AND I DON’T DO CARBS.

And hey, Guckian—Mr. Cool Wink? You think you’re tough just because you struck out Leo Dominguez with the bases loaded in the 7th?!
Let me tell you something, hotshot—you may have ended the inning, but you just unleashed the beast.
Leo’s now hitting .256 in the series, which, frankly, is embarrassing for a man with that jawline—but I believe in him. Why?
Because I created winners.
And winners... win.
BUT LISTEN UP, AMERICA.
This series is far from over.
We’re heading back to San Francisco now—the land of tech billionaires, protein smoothies, and revenge.
You think you can walk into Oracle Park and silence a team that’s ripped through the National League like a dodgeball to the face of an asthmatic sixth grader?! THINK AGAIN, SUGARPUFF.
FINAL SCORE:
Baltimore 8. San Francisco 4.
Series tied 1-1.
Sergio Herrera = momentary hero.
But guess what?
White Goodman doesn’t do "ties."

Game 3 is coming.
And when the lights come on in San Francisco...
I hope you’re ready to dodge.
Because nobody... and I mean nobody... makes me bleed my own blood.

����⚾
GOODMAN OUT.