Did you read those? Good, save me a lot of effort and grief.
I...don't really know what else to say. 31 1/3 innings of disaster. Home runs out the wazoo. And a consistent hope by many (myself included) that he would turn it around after a string of "bad luck." He never did, and Chad Qualls was eventually DFA'd by the Phillies, only to be picked up by the Yankees and then traded to the Pirates for Casey McGehee. Interestingly enough, both of those teams played some putrid baseball while Qualls was filling a roster spot.
It wasn't just bad luck. We brought this on ourselves, folks.
I'll let him tell you the rest; his exit interview with Ruben Amaro, Jr. and Charlie Manuel was quite...revealing.
(Be warned; Qualls has a mouth-and-a-half, even if he does speak in asterisks...parents, please watch your children, and children, please watch something else.)
Ruben Amaro, Jr.: Chad, thanks for comi...you're wearing your Pittsburgh jersey.
Chad Qualls: Aren't you the observant one?
RAJ: Why would you wear your Pittsburgh jersey to your Phillies exit interview?
Qualls: Because I play for the f*ckin' Pirates now that you DFA'd me. What did you expect, your Smugness?
RAJ: I mean, I know it was a lot for me to ask you to come back to the Phillies for this interview after you've already played for two other teams since then, but don't you think it would have been wise to not wear another team's apparel to this?
Qualls: What are you going to do, throw me out?
RAJ: I suppose I could, security's right down the hall.
Qualls: Sign me up, Rubes. Go right ahead, get me the hell out of here.
RAJ: Ugh, never mind, let's get started. First question: how did you let your teammates down this season?
Qualls: "Let down?" What the hell are you talking about, "let down?" Those chumps don't appreciate how good they had it with me on the hill. They didn't have to field a damn thing with me up there, I gave 'em a break every 8th inning.
RAJ: Uh, Chad, you know you were signed under the premise that you were a contact pitcher, don't you?
Qualls: That's a joke, right? What was I going to do, have the batters hit groundballs so Jim Gaffigan over at third could airmail the throw to the Merman? Or watch the walking seizure out there in right try to field a routine fly ball?
RAJ: I mean...kinda?
Qualls: Yeah, right, that's a good one. Who needs to field a home run, or a walk? Or a strikeout if I was in a good mood? Man, they were on f*ckin' easy street when I took the mound. If it weren't for me, those doofuses would be in worse shape than they already are. Chase Utley should hit his f*cked-up knees every night and thank the Lord I didn't give him jack-sh*t to field.
RAJ: Um...alright, then. How did you let Charlie and myself down this season?
Qualls: You can't be serious, really? You idiots bring me to the team and continued to play me after I served up a three-run home run to Michael F*ckin' Martinez last year-after he botched two bunt attempts, keep that in mind-and you got the balls to ask me how I let you down? You're shocked that I sucked eggs after switching from the dog pound over to this f*ckin' bandbox?
RAJ: It's...not actually a band--
Qualls: Yeah, yeah, I've heard it already. "Citizen's Bank Park doesn't allow for more home runs, blah blah whatever." Point is, I was pitching in the f*ckin' Grand Canyon, and you in your infinite smugness thought it'd be a good idea to throw me on a little league field and see how I do. You dips deserved every single last bit of my sh*tacular season. You let yourselves down.
RAJ: I see...next question, then. What do you have to say to all the fans you let down this season?
Qualls: What, you mean all the people in the bleachers who got to keep all those souvenirs I was serving up? Yeah, I really let them down. Sorry you get to hold onto a piece of Andrew McCutchen's All-Star career. I just feel awful about that. And it might be worth money some day when he gets in the Hall of Fame and you can sell that baseball for millions on eBay? Say it ain't so! And really, who gives a rat's ass what I did? How many Qualls jerseys did you see in the stands? Nobody but nobody came to the park to see me pitch, I'm man enough to admit it. They came to watch the rest of the scrubs underachieve. So if you're trying to get me to apologize to people who couldn't give two sh*ts about my existence, then you've lost your damn mind. Morons...
RAJ: *Sigh...* Alright, Chad, just a couple more wrap-up questions.
Qualls: Thank God...
RAJ: On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the worst--
Qualls: You better not be asking me what I think you're f*ckin' asking me. "How do I rate on the 'it's my fault we're in this freaking mess and missed the playoffs' scale?" Is that the one?
RAJ: Did somebody tell you what we were going to be asking? I thought I made it clear to everyone that I didn't want the interview questions shared! Who told you what I would be asking?
Qualls: Who the f*ck do you think? F*ckin' Michael Flatley down there! He comes barging into the clubhouse being loud as sh*t and referring to himself in the third person like he always does. "OH YEAH, CINCO OCHO KILLED THAT INTERVIEW!! GUESS WHAT THEY ASKED ME! ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10--"
RAJ: Ugh, I get it. So, where do you think rate, Chad?
Qualls: You really expect me to answer that? Who's gonna f*ckin' read this anyway? Remember that whole "Nobody gave a sh*t about Chad Qualls" thing I just spat at you? The 24 other dopes I had to play with got way more attention than me and were just as terrible, so don't try to pin this sh*t on me. And consider this, too. I singlehandedly knocked the Pirates out of the race and almost did the same f*ckin' thing to the Yankees. I gave you sons ‘a' bitches the opportunity of a lifetime. You blew it, not me. You f*ckers should be thanking me for the job I did.
RAJ: Neither of them...play in this division, Chad. The Yankees aren't even in the National Lea--
Qualls: But you know what, you caught me in a good mood, Smuggles. I'll answer you're little question. Put me down as a 10 on the "Jeremy Horst can eat me" scale. Yeah, I read his f*ckin' exit interview!
RAJ: Those are confidential, Chad!
Qualls: Oh, well then I guess you're going to have to fire me, then, aren't ya Rubes? At least you'd have to if I was still playing for this f*ckin' abomination of a ball club. Which I don't, thanks to you.
RAJ: Yes, I'm aware. The jersey you're wearing makes that pretty clear.
Qualls: Are we done here?
RAJ: Unfortunately for us both, not yet. Just a couple more.
Qualls: I can't wait.
RAJ: Other than yourself, which player caused this fiasco of a season the most?
Qualls: Let me think about that, how about every arm behind me that Chuckles here didn't trust to get the job done in the late innings? I mean seriously, how bad to you have to be to be able to strike out 14 batters per 9 and McRib still puts me in the game instead? Yeah, lookin' at you, Tony!
RAJ: I think you might be overstating it, Chad.
Qualls: Am I? Watch this. Hey Charlie, it's almost the top of the eighth, we're up 3-2, and Nix is pinch-hitting for Lee.
Charlie: Get Qualls up and throwing!
Qualls: I rest my case.
RAJ: Well...ok, maybe that's partially my fault. We didn't have too many reliable options back there, what with injuries and all.
Qualls: And that's another thing, where the hell did you find those wastes of space to replace me? Aumont? Really? I know you're good at math, Smugs, so here's a little equation for you to add to your notebook. 50, minus 2, plus French accent, equals SUCK! I don't know where you get off trying to blame me for this clusterf*ck of a season. You oughta be ashamed of yourselves.
RAJ: One last thing, and then you'll be out of our hair. Would you like to say anything to your teammates about your performance?
Qualls: Yeah. Do your f*ckin' job, losers; it means I don't have to. Now are we finished here? Because I've got 8th inning batting practice to throw.