 Jose Ebreu up at the dish for the Astros. They're down four, one run on bottom of six and Phil Cussey calls that pitch that was up in the zone, a strike. And it was pretty high. And he says, strike, maybe it's borderline. If he's calling that all game, I don't think he was. Ebreu's like, come on, man, what? And then the dugout starts barking at Cussey and he's gonna turn to them and bark back. Oh yeah. All right, somebody's out. Fuck me, fuck you, classic. Great, good job, Phil. That's funny and I think understandable. And then coach K, you get out. Hey, you get out. Cussey's gonna respond, okay, I'll go and you go. All right, I'll go back to work and you get out of here. Huh? How about it? And he says, okay, I guess that's what I'll do. Cussey says, I'll get back to work doing what I do. One pitch, a little bit high. Shut up, dude. I'm not gonna listen to you. Fuck me, fuck you. Huh? One and one's the count. Ooh, little check swing on that fastball. Maybe he doesn't know the zone now so he's gotta check it off. Another foul ball. Another ball. And now a ball out on the fastball. The count goes two and two. Tight little slider there from a haul, gets the first out and the next out comes via a fly ball to right field and the Astros are spittin' mad. But then they hit a home run and all's okay in the land of Phil Cussey. Well, kind of, not really. And I don't even know if they came back to win this game. But, you know, fuck me, fuck you. Phil Cussey. Hell yeah. All right, somebody's out.