From La Velle E. Neal III at the Star Tribune:
Francisco Liriano has lost his confidence. I've seen it before, and Gardy confirmed it after the game when he said he had to cheer Liriano up.
(SCENE: Interior - the Twins clubhouse. It is a game day, but it appears that most of the team is in the clubhouse early for a special event.)
GARDY: All right, boys. We've got an unhappy lefthander who's pitching today, and we've gotta turn his frown upside down.
Cut to Liriano. He is sitting in front of his locker, resting his chin on his palm and his elbow on his knee. From the back of the clubhouse, someone plays the "wah-wah-wah-waaaaah" of a sad trombone.
GARDY: Clete! Put that thing away! This is no time for trombone playing!
CLETE THOMAS: Sorry.
GARDY: Okay. What have you guys got for me? I don't want to send just anybody out there for this. Who's got something?
JOE MAUER: I've got a bawdy, inappropriate, slightly vulgar song.
GARDY: Really? You?
MAUER: Sure! (He stands up straight, clasps his hands in front of himself, and assumes a pose of reverence as he sings.) Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg...
GARDY: Okay, that's terrible. Who's next?
JUSTIN MORNEAU: I can bring in my new puppy. Nobody is sad around a puppy!
GARDY: Justin, we've been over this. That is not a puppy, that is a six-month-old moose, and you need to to send him somewhere else to live before he is big enough to crush you and your family.
MORNEAU: First of all, in Canada "new puppy" means "young moose," and second of all, I can't send Trevor Lindmoose somewhere else! He'll cry giant moose tears without me!
GARDY: Oh geez. Who else we got?
JOSH WILLINGHAM: I can play my-
GARDY: NO BANJOS! Man, I never knew how much we'd miss Cuddyer's magic tricks. Frankie used to love those. Hell, I loved them. You haven't lived until you've seen a pitcher smile because your right fielder just pulled a piece of cheesecake out of his ear.
DANNY VALENCIA: I can do magic tricks.
GARDY: You can?
VALENCIA: Sure! Here, pick a card - whoops! (He drops the cards, which go flying every which way. Half land face up. Three of them go down an air-conditioning vent. One clogs a nearby ice machine, which begins to emit large clouds of black smoke.)
GARDY: Ooooh-kay, Danny. One more thing for you to work on, I guess.
CARL PAVANO: I've got an idea, skip.
GARDY: Am I going to like this idea, or am I going to be disturbed by it?
PAVANO: Depends on. How do you feel about alpacas? They're really just small llamas.
GARDY: How is an alpaca going to cheer up Frankie?
PAVANO: Who said anything about cheering him up? To me he just looks like he's hungry.
GARDY: I don't think you're allowed to eat alpacas.
PAVANO: Maybe in America. But I'll tell you, you head over to Cuba for one night, there really isn't any limit to what you're allowed to cook, as long as you bring it yourself. The only hard part is trying to get the alpaca onto the boat in the first place. I'm gonna need some grappling hooks and about two pounds of morphine... and we should probably sedate the alpaca, too.
GARDY: That may be literally the worst idea I've ever heard. Guys, guys, we can't do any better than this? Moose and banjos and horrible crimes with alpacas?
JAMEY CARROLL: I've got a pretty good collection of Bob Newhart records. I can bring in my phonograph and we could listen to those.
GARDY: I don't - geez, how old are you?
CARROLL: It's hard to explain. There was a thing at the Lego factory, and I don't really want to talk about it.
GARDY: Ah, forget it. Listen, let's just do what we always do: bowling, beer, and skits where relief pitchers have to dress up like women. That's the classic combination and it's always worked before. Clete, still got that trombone?
THOMAS: Yes, sir.
GARDY: Good. Play me out of here. I gotta go back to my office and weep into my hands for an hour.
(Gardy leaves, accompanied by a particularly jazzy version of "When The Saints Go Marching In.")