Second baseman Denny Doyle comes over to the mound, with his buttery-soft, alabaster skin and flaming red hair, to calm the pitted and pockmarked pitcher. Denny intones a few unremarkable assurances. His eyes are resolute, his mouth firmly set, his complexion creamy. Luis nods and touches Doyle's face thankfully, almost effetely. He then throws
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(Had to look for pictures of Doyle after that--I know what Tiant looks like, heh-and he's very Generic 70s Middle Infielder.)
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