Angels cower in fear as Trevor Bauer stalks them with a broom

Cleveland Indians vs. Disneyland Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim and Surrounding Suburbs/Exurbs of Southern California, LLC

Sunday, August 14, 2016. 1:10 PM ET JUST KIDDING NOBODY KNOWS, Progressive Field

Radio: WTAM

TV: STO, MLB.tv Free game of the Day!

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And just why is Mike Trout sitting out of today's game?

EXT. PLAYHOUSE SQUARE, DAWNMIKE TROUT leans against the side of a building, holding out a Starbucks cup with a few pieces of change in it. His uniform is tattered and filthy. His beard is an order of magnitude larger than Mike Napoli's. A NUN approaches.

MIKE TROUT:
M-Ma'am, would you be able to help me out with--

NUN:
Silence, you godless scum, rotten bile of a rabid dog, you hairy lump of cow dung.

MIKE TROUT:
I just need enough for a bus ticket back to Anaheim.

NUN:
And you will get nothing from me, for it is clear you are one in the grip of both of Lucifer's claws: too far gone.
The NUN enters Starbucks. MIKE TROUT hangs his head as a small drone flies down Euclid Avenue. It hovers for a moment, its camera zooming in on the fallen Angel. MIKE TROUT looks at it curiously. The drone beeps and whirs, then takes off into the sky. It crashes into the GE chandelier, gets stuck, and bursts into flames. TREVOR BAUER arrives from around the corner, swearing at himself and punching at a remote controller.

MIKE TROUT:
Trevor! It's me! It's Mike Trout! I'm in some serious trouble, man.

TREVOR: 
(Tosses remote aside)
What the hell happened to you since.... five hours ago?

MIKE TROUT:
We went out after the game to have a nightcap and dull the pain a bit, but the Uber driver dropped us off in East Cleveland, and——

TREVOR:
(Raises his hand, shakes his head. As he speaks, he begins to walk around; a professor giving a lecture.)
Understood. It's really quite unfortunate given that East Cleveland used to be one of the most affluent neighborhoods in the entire country, only to fall into a spiral of crime and decay. Really, it if you think about it, it's indicative of a nationwide trend — although concentrated in the midwest — of working class or wealthy areas deteriorating from the inside. At first, like a rotting tooth, the exterior remains——

MIKE TROUT:
TREVOR!

TREVOR:
(Clears throat)
Sorry. It just happens sometimes.

MIKE TROUT:
Look, I was just going to skip town and miss today's game since we're going to get swept anyway, but I couldn't get help from anybody. Not even that nun. (Points thumb into Starbucks)

TREVOR:
(Looks in window)Oh, that's not a nun. That's Debbie.

MIKE TROUT:
...Debbie?

TREVOR:
Yeah, she stole that getup from St. John the Evangelist's. She's really sweet for a homeless lady, despite all the...issues. (Trevor points at head, crosses eyes, sticks out tongue). 

MIKE TROUT:
Okay. Just. Please, help me. I'm Mike Trout. This shouldn't be happening.

TREVOR:
Sure. Get my drone down and I'll give you a lift to the stadium.
Both players look up at the chandelier, which is now beginning to melt and drip onto the street. MIKE TROUT frowns and scratches at his beard, out of which a pigeon flies. TREVOR slaps him on the back and enters the Starbucks. Through the window, we see him hugging Debbie the NUN as MIKE TROUT begins to shimmy up the chandelier pole.

MIKE TROUT:
(muttered)
This fucking season is never going to end.

Lineups!