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Here's the Pitch

Coors Field needs a voice for the future.

Why, yes, it is a beautiful day for a baseball game, a beautiful day indeed! What's that? No, thank you, I'm fine. Really. Well, if you insist, I guess I will have a hot dog before I begin. Do you have one of those Rocky Dogs? Fantastic! A foot of fun. Gotta be careful who you say that around, eh, boys? Gets a certain type of lady real fired up. Ha, ha! Yeah, give me one of those suckers, and slap on the peppers and onion and a little bit of sauerkraut, too. No, that's too much sauerkraut. Hate to be a bother, it's just that when I eat too much of it I find I get a little -- how you say -- gassy. I think it's the Jew in me. I eat too much of anything German and my body naturally rebels. Nazis, what can you do? Could I get a lemonade to wash it down? Brilliant, thank you so much.

Well, then, gentlemen, I suppose we're ready to get down to business. But before we start, I have to warn you: Prepare to have your hair fucking blown the fuck back. I'm not saying KOA 850-AM's Alan Roach wasn't a fine public-address announcer for the Colorado Rockies home games, because he was. He was great those two seasons at Mile High Stadium, just as he was great for all twelve seasons at Coors Field. The way that man pronounced "Andres Galarraga" echoed from Denver all the way to Caracas and back again. But let's not kid ourselves: Roach was the voice of the past. What you need now is a Voice of Coors Field for the future, a silky, seductive baritone that puts asses in seats and keeps them there. And I am your man. So if you will, allow me to walk you through a game as if I were announcing it, just so you can get a glimpse of the pure magic I would bring to all 81 home games. And is it cool if I get another Rocky Dog before I begin? God, it feels like I haven't eaten in days! Thanks so much. Okay, here goes:

Ladies and gentlemen, your 2007 Coloradoooooooooo Rockies!

Now, at this point, the starting lineup charges the field and begins tossing the ball around. Usually there's a little background music, and the announcer drones on and on with some nonsense about fans not running onto the field, or how this little kid has leukemia so he's going to announce the fifth inning on some all-kids-who-have-leukemia-all-the-time radio station and blah, blah, blah. Bor-ing! So I'm going to kick it up a notch. As soon as the boys run out onto the field, I start singing "Eye of the Tiger," by Survivor. I don't really know all of the words, but I'll be so into it, that won't matter.

"So many times, it happens so fast, we up and destroy the Padres. Heating up, and you know it will last, because last night Brad Hawpe straight bitch-slapped your madre!"

That will set the tone for the rest of the game, let the other team know that these are no-nonsense Rockies they're dealing with. So, yeah, after this I pretty much plan to take a few innings off to have a couple cocktails with Tracy Ringolsby up in the press box, see if I can't get him to give me one of his cowboy hats, and then I'll make my way down to the front row and chest-bump my boy Dealin' Doug for a hot minute before climbing back into the booth. And can you guess what time it's going to be then? Nickname time.

A few examples of the nicknames I'll come up with:

Jeff "The Baby-Faced Lefty Destroyer" Francis!

Matt "So Pimp You Have to Let Him Bang Your Girlfriend at Least Once If He Asks" Holliday!

Garrett "More Hits Than Fucking Jay-Z" Atkins!

Brian "Just Because They Call Me Tito Doesn't Mean I Won't Curb-Stomp Your Ass" Fuentes!

Todd "Tell Me Again Why We Didn't Trade This Boring Old Man" Helton!

And I can come up with names this good all goddamn game. That should fire up the boys enough to top last year's 76 paltry wins.

Well, I think I've shown you all I need to. I'm clearly the man for this job. But in order to do it, I'm going to need a few things from you. First, get rid of that ridiculous race involving animated pigs on Harleys that you show on the big screen, because it sucks. Also, nix the national anthem. Rah, rah, patriotism and all that bullshit, but no one enjoys listening to it, and when you get right down to it, no one likes singing it, either.

I wrote my number and e-mail down, so I'll expect to hear from you shortly. But not before 11 a.m., because I'm usually hung over. Oh, no, the pleasure was all mine.

Mind if I take one more Rocky Dog for the road?

 
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