The fraternity of baseball players and managers throughout the years has been graced with the presence of many colorful figures. Combine a competitive spirit, a short temper and inquisitive reporters and the results, as evidenced in the remainder of this writeup, can be, well, uh, interesting, not to mention good for an occasional laugh.

Although this writeup is by no means comprehensive, the tirades sited here are fairly representative of the types of outbursts that have occurred in baseball over the years.

Note: I have omitted the many known outbursts of Tommy Lasorda, who is so clearly deserving of his own writeup. I've also omitted Lee Elia's rather noteworthy tirade, as another kind noder has already noded it here.

If any noders can fill in any other details of what was said during these tirades, or are aware of and have details on any others (by such baseball heroes as Hal McRae, Lou Pinella, Larry Bowa or Billy Martin), I'd appreciate hearing from you.

Note: To give fair warning, the remainder of this writeup is filled with assorted profanity. Therefore, if you are easily offended, please move on to another writeup.

Earl Weaver

When: Unknown Date

Background: When Earl Weaver was manager of the Baltimore Orioles, he was the featured guest during a small regular segment of the Orioles' pregame radio show on WBAL known as "Manager's Corner". Manager's Corner allowed listeners to write in and have their questions asked of Weaver on the air. On this particular day, Weaver did not seem to be in the mood to answer any questions. What exactly occurred to prompt his apparent anger I cannot say, despite much research. In any case, the transcript of the show speaks for itself:

Announcer: Manger's Corner on WBAL in Baltimore. Now, the Manager's Corner, with the thoughts and opinions of the American League's winningest manager, the Orioles' Earl Weaver. And now, to the Manager's Corner, with Earl Weaver.

Host: Bill Whitehouse, Earl, from, uh, Frederick, Maryland, wants to know why you and the Orioles don't go out and get some more team speed?

Weaver: Team speed? For Christ sake. You get fucking god dammed little fleas on the fucking bases, getting picked off trying to steal, getting thrown out, taking runs away from you. You get them big cock suckers that can hit the fucking ball out of the ball park, and you can't make any god damned mistakes.

Host: (chuckling) Well, certainly this show is going to go down in history, Earl. Terry Elliot of Washington, D.C. why, wants to know why you don't use Terry Crowley as a designated hitter all the time?

Weaver: Well, Terry, Terry Crowley's lucky he's in fucking baseball for Christ sake. He was released by the Cincinnati Reds, he was released by the fucking god dammed Atlanta Braves. We saw that Terry Crowley could sit on his fucking ass for eight innings and enjoy watching the baseball game just like any other fan, and has the ability to get up there and break one open in the fucking ninth. So if this cocksucker would mind his own business and let me manage the fucking team we'd be a lot better off.

Note: Weaver was apparently an avid tomato gardener, which helps explain this next bit. In fact, Weaver even grew tomato plants behind the stands near the foul pole at the Oriole's ballpark. Its rumored that after a series where Baltimore hosted the Yankees, Yankee manager Billy Martin poisoned Weaver's tomato plants. Regardless of what happened to the tomato plants, their loss prompted another tirade from Weaver, about which, unfortunately, I've been unable to uncover any details.

Announcer: Well, certainly you've made your opinions known on the fans questions about baseball, Earl, but lets get to something else. Alice Sweet from Norfolk wants to know the best time to (laughing) put in a tomato plant.

Weaver: Alice Sweet ought to be worried about where the fuck her next lay is coming from, rather than where her next god dammed tomato plant's coming from. If she'd get her ass out of the fucking bars at night and go hustling around the god dammed streets she might get a prick stuck into her once in a while. I don't understand where these questions are coming from, Tom. That's about it for Manager's Corner, go fuck yourself and to fuck with your show coming up next on the Baltimore Orioles baseball fucking network!

Sparky Anderson

When: Unknown Date

Background: Sparky Anderson and his team returned to Los Angeles on a road trip. Anderson (as he amply shows below) remains a bit miffed at a local area news paper for publishing an otherwise accurate story that misquotes him in the headline.

Anderson: You know, well, but I don't give a shit, you know. To me, I don't care what the fucking headline says. Whoever's writing the fucking story better control the headline, then. That's a lot of bullshit. I don't need to come in this town, and be made to look like a fucking fool. And I'm not going to buy that bullshit. So they can stick it in their fucking ass I don't really give a shit about nothing. I think its horseshit when fucking people will call you and you trying to be right with people and you pick up a fucking paper and its total bullshit. Now I don't think you have to do that. If you're gonna shoot right with fucking writers and be good to them and everybody else, and then the cocksucker's gonna turn around a fuck you, I don't think its right. Now I'll tell ya they can stick it in their ass as far as I'm concerned. I mean it. Now, that's, that's the way I'm gonna be. I say this, I've always been fair with fucking writers. And when the son of a bitch is gonna be that fucking way, fuck, I don't, you know I don't give a shit about it. I'll be honest. They can take it and stick it in their fucking ass, do whatever they want to do. That's the way I feel. But I got people here too you know and when my fucking brother in law calls you up and says "What the fuck are you doing?". Its a fucking joke that you have to come home and have fucking bullshit like that. That's all I got to say.

Kirk Gibson

When: May 23, 1989

Background: Kirk Gibson is, of course, most famous for his home run in the bottom of the ninth inning that won game 1 of the 1988 World Series for the Dodgers. An intense competitor his entire career who would not accept anything less than a full, all out effort from each of his teammates, Gibson got a bit hot under the collar after a game won by Philadelphia Phillies pitcher Ken Howell. Strangely, it was a member of the Dodgers' own publicity staff who set Gibson off when he asked Gibson about Howell's own claim that he did not have his best pitches working that day.

Gibson: What do you think I'm a fucking idiot? What kind of question is that?

Publicist: An honest question.

Gibson: Who's the winning pitcher? You tell me. So who had the best stuff? You think I would ever...

Publicist: That wasn't my question. My question was comment on his stuff.

Gibson: He's the winning pitcher, I did. So obviously he had pretty good shit, didn't he? I don't like questions like that. Don't ever ask me to do that to an opposing player or my own player. You, you go in and you say "he's really disappointed in his stuff. He had weak stuff. He was lucky." What do you want me to say, "yeah he was lucky"? Fucking stupid.

Richard "Goose" Gossage

When: Unknown date.

Background: Unknown, but Gossage is addressing a group of reporters after a game...

Gossage: Everybody, the way they boo fucking Griffey and everybody else. And you motherfuckers, all you cocksuckers with a fucking pen , and a fucking tape recorder, you can turn it on and take it upstairs to the fat man! Ok? Cause I'm fucking sick of this fucking shit! The negative fucking bullshit, you got it? Everything that you guys read, write, these motherfuckers read, these dumb fuckers in the seats! Yeah, you turn it on. Turn it on your crazy fuck. Yeah, they read everything that you fucking write. And we hear the same fucking lines, you know what I mean? Fucking negative motherfuckers. No wonder you're fucking carrying a pad and a fucking paper around. You ain't worth the fucking shit to do anything else. You motherfuckers!

Dicky Williams

When: Unknown date

Background: The Padres became incensed when Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher Tom Neidenfuer allegedly threw at Joe LaFaye after the previous San Diego batter had hit a home run off of him. This clearly did not sit well with Padre manager Williams, who had this to say afterwards. Even better than this tirade from Williams, however, is what it later led to. When the Dodgers and Padres played their next series, Padre outfielder Kurt Bavaqua was reminded of all this by a reporter and then proceeded to accuse Dodger manager Tommy Lasorda of ordering Neidenfuer to throw at LaFaye. Lasorda's timeless response can be found in this writeup.

Williams: You talk about chicken shit! Who the fuck do they think they are? So then, here's a warning so there's no retaliation. That's horseshit. Neidenfuer my ass! It takes a lot of god dammed balls. They've hit fourteen home runs off of us, they haven't had their cap spun once. We hit one, they drill the guy in the head. Is that Dodger Blue? Shit.

Todd Stottylemyre

When: Unknown Date

Background: Reporter: That pitch to Vaughn have an affect on the pitch you threw to Surhoff with the bases loaded?

Stottylemyre: Is that what we're going to do? We're going to fucking talk about it every fucking time?

Reporter: No, Nooo!

Stottylemyre: What, I lose my cool one fucking time and we're going to fucking talk about it, huh? Is that what we're going to do? I throw one fucking pitch alright? I lost my fucking cool. And we're going to fucking talk about it, huh? I busted my fucking ass out there. I did every fucking thing I can, you think I'm pissed? I'm fucking pissed! Alright? Write I'm fucking pissed. Write I lost my fucking cool because I did. I lost my fucking cool. Are you fucking happy? I fucking lost it. And I fucking just lost it again. I'm fucking pissed, you fucking write I'm pissed. That's my fucking job out there. You get pissed when something happens at your fucking job? That's my fucking job, that's my living. I'm fucking pissed. Fucking write that I'm pissed. Write that I fucking blew up. I don't give a fucking hell what you write.

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