Felix Hernandez: Why didn’t you call me? I called you. I called you like eight times. Why didn’t you call me?
Adrian Beltre: I called you. Oh come on. I called you. Check your messages. I called.
Hernandez: No you didn’t call me. No no no.
Beltre: Man, check your phone. Must be broken.
Hernandez: No way.
Beltre: You know what. I also sent you a letter. Licked it all up and sent it right to you.
Hernandez: Don’t make me laugh. You think I’m some silly girl.
Beltre: No, I used my own spit. Sent it right to you. Lick, stamp, right with the mail carrier.
Hernandez: That’s rich.
Hernandez: So you think I’m hiding the letter here in my sleeves? You think I got it here with me?
Beltre: Yeah you got it.
Hernandez: Yeah I got your letter and I just got it right here in my shirt.
Hernandez: You want to check my shirt? Check my shirt. Check it. Come look.
Beltre: Felix, you’re such a drama queen. Stop it.
Hernandez: You say you wrote a letter. That I got it. That I got it in my shirt.
Beltre: You’re crazy man.
Hernandez: COME CHECK MY SHIRT.
Hernandez: You know what? I’m done.
Beltre: What you mean.
Hernandez: Look here. Here’s my heart. You see my heart. You slap it around a little, slap it around a little — AND THEN YOU SMACK IT TO THE GROUND AND BREAK IT.
Beltre: You know what… you should get going. Someone might see this.
Hernandez: MY HEART YOU SMACKED IT TO THE GROUND LIKE THIS
Beltre: Yeah. Uh. I’ll call you later.
With a phone full of pictures of pitchers' fingers, strange beers, and his two toddler sons, Eno Sarris can be found at the ballpark or a brewery most days. Read him here, writing about the A's or Giants at The Athletic, or about beer at October. Follow him on Twitter @enosarris if you can handle the sandwiches and inanity.