Mauer: Hi, everyone, and welcome to the first installment of "Mauer's Neverlate," brought to you by "Mauer's Chevrolet." I recently moved to a full-time first-base role with my Minnesota Twins, and in exploring my new circumstances, I found a curious time/space anomaly in Target Field that allows me to communicate with baseball icons past, present, and future. For this pilot episode, I decided to contact one of the earliest Hall-Of-Famer first basemen, the legendary Cap Anson. Hello, Mr. Anson? We've got him, right? OK, we've got him. Welcome to the show!
Anson: Glad to be here.
Mauer: Thanks for coming.
Anson: No, I mean, really glad to be here.
Mauer: Nice of you to say that.
Anson: The fire, the all-consuming flames.
Mauer: OK. Well, Mr. Anson --
Anson: Call me Cap.
Mauer: OK, Cap. You can call me Joe.
Anson: Yeah. I was gonna anyway.
Mauer: I'm speaking with Cap Anson, who played 27 years as a first baseman and collected 3,000 hits or so. Now, as someone who is new to playing first base full-time, I'm interested in your longevity, especially starting off in an era, as you did, where players didn't even use fielding gloves. Boy, that must have been tough.
Anson: You bet your kike ass!
Mauer: Ha-ha, yes, my wife thinks I have a very tight ass. Is that the secret to staying healthy on the field?
Anson: Straight pool. Next to fightin', nothin' warms a man's blood like some sweet cheeks. But you better get ‘em young. I did. My wife was 13 when I met her. I say, if there's grass on the field, play ball!
Mauer: Absolutely, I believe that the return to outdoor stadiums really helps cut down on lower-body injuries.
Anson: Lower-body injuries, sure! You're my kind of fella, son. Just tell the wife those crabs must be from her trolloping around, right?
Mauer: Right! My wife keeps finding these crabby Internet trolls criticizing me, and I tell her, "dear, don't look at that stuff!"
Anson: Yep. Close your eyes and think of tomorrow's supper. Let a man do his business.
Mauer: Couldn't agree more. Our family dinners are so important to me. Now, I'd like to get black, I mean back, into baseball for a second.
Anson: Har-har! One second is all we need to see of those jumping monkeys.
Mauer: Oh, the "Rally Monkey" is so annoying.
Anson: I never played agin' no Raleigh team, but they asked me to go on the field against the likes of Satchel Paige in some town ball games and I told them it'd be over my cold dead body.
Mauer: Huh, that's interesting. I've known players that wanted to sit out games against pitchers who owned them.
Anson: Exactly, Joe! Exactly! And why don't we still own them, by Jehosaphat!
Mauer: Well, you know, players change as they get older.
Anson: Can't wash the black off a coon, Joe.
Mauer: Um, that's not what I . . .
(20 SECONDS OF DEAD AIR)
Mauer: Oh, my God. You've been talking about stuff like child rape and racism this whole time, haven't you?
Anson: What's racism? And you can't rape ‘em if they say "yes, sir," right? We're on the same team, aren't we, Joe? Jew? What's with that nose, anyway? Joe Joe Joe? Jew Jew Jew? HAHAHAHAHA
Mauer: We've lost the connection to Mr. Anson. Thanks for listening to our talk. Stay tuned for . . . for I'm not sure what. I have no faith in the human race now. Good night.
Anson: wait . . . I don't wanna go . . . it's hot again, so hot . . . put me back on the wireless machine . . . it's so fiery and hot . . . pleeeeassse . . .