September 19th, 2008 will be a day that lives in baseball infamy. No, not because the Mets bullpen held a lead, it’s because of a three minute piece of video that popped up on You Tube. This video from 2003 shows Royals Hall of Fame third basemen George Brett at spring training talking to a player about how he shit his pants the night before. It’s quite possibly the funniest video I’ve ever seen (besides that monkey washing the cat). I knew that that some media company would have it taken down quickly because it was obviously a pro shot video. So I took matters into my own hands by recording the audio portion. So here, in all its glory, is the genius of George Brett.
(WARNING: If you are offended by shitloads of foul language, you might want to stop reading right here)
GB: I farted. I shit my pants last night
Unidentified player: (Laughs) You did?
GB: I did. Went out and had a great meal, just a great fucking meal, and I had to go to the bathroom so bad in the car I’m going “Trammel, hurry up man I gotta shit.” Got home and I had fucking shit in my pants. I’m good twice a year for that. When is the last time you shit your pants?
GB: Yeah. Been a while?
UP: Um, yeah, it’s been a long time.
GB: I was in Vegas a couple years ago—this is an honest to God true story. Staying at the Bellagio, I went over to the Mirage for dinner and met some friends of mine over there. Went to Kokomo’s, a great little steakhouse. The guy brings out some fresh crab legs. He says, “These things just came in, I gotta give them to you guys.” So I’m eating them, then we go gamble a little bit. I had a tee time early in the morning, so I said, “Look, I’m gonna get going.” I’m walking back to the hotel, I get three quarters of the way out of the lobby and all of a sudden I go, “Oh, fuck!” And standing there like this—I got my butt pinched so fucking tight. I’m fucked. I can’t move. All of a sudden I felt all right, and then I went just like this—(makes explosion sound) water.
UP: No way.
GB: Yeah, I had food poisoning from the crabs. Take off my leather jacket, tied it around my waist, and I’m standing there and it’s just running down my leg.
GB: I got jeans on, black bucks, no socks. And I just start fucking walking. Every time I’m walking, something’s coming out. It’s water. Straight fucking water. And then, to tell you how sick I was, I’m standing outside and I get my cell phone and this guy (scratchy noise cuts in). I say “Larry, you won’t believe this. I’m standing outside the fucking Bellagio—I can’t move. I got shit everywhere. I shit all over myself.” And Larry’s about a 48 waist. So he brings me over a pair of pants and some towels. And so he comes over and meets me—I tell him where I’m standing. He finds the closest bathroom when you go up the escalator—I can’t get in the elevator.
GB: So he goes in, finds the closest bathroom in the lobby of the hotel. And then I get on the escalator, and he kind of pretends like he dropped something so no one gets behind me. Tells me where it is. I go in there. He goes and gets the towel all wet for me, throws it over the fucking stall. I take off all my fucking clothes. [I] just wipe off—leave my shoes, left my shoes, my pants, everything, right there. The towels, right there in the stall. And I’m walking barefoot with my shirt and his pants that are 48 waist through the lobby like this at midnight. Got up in the morning, took the most perfect double-tapered shit I’ve ever had in my life. True story. Who’s the pitchers in this game?