Vargy! Vargy baby! Where ya goin’? C’mon, have a seat. Lemme buy ya a cold one. Barkeep — anything my man Vargy wants, it’s on me. My man  worked up quite a sweat out there tonight.
Listen, Vargy, that was some game ya threw at those Giants. Other people might say “p’shaw, they’re only the Giants,” but I say “only the Giants” beat us good the night before. They’re major leaguers and ya just shut out an entire lineup of ’em for an entire game.
Yeah, that’s right. A shutout, seven-zip. The whole distance. Not too many Mets have gone that far since Citi Field opened, Vargy. Noah did it to the Reds when he hit that homer — I guess yer savin’ one of those for when ya need the runs, huh, big fella? — and he did it on the last day of last year when the Marlins probably had one foot on the bus. DeGrom racked up a complete game at home the year before that, but that wasn’t a shutout. Gsellman? Gsellman had one of those rain-shortened ceegees in 2017, so it was hardly what men of the world like you and me would call a real complete game.
No, Vargy, what ya put out there tonight was a rarity, only the 21st nine-inning complete game win by a Met in this here ballpark and only the 16th such shutout. And when ya factor in lefthanders like yourself, there’s only been eight.
What am I saying? There’s only one you, Vargy! I mean, sure Johan Santana threw four complete game shutouts at Citi Field, including the first no-hitter in Mets history, but I didn’t see him mowin’ down the Giants tonight, did I? Big Shot Mr. Nohan’s got nothin’ on you!
Need that drink freshened, Vargy? Barkeep! My man Vargy’s drink’s looking a little tired.
You didn’t look tired, Vargy. You were out there for a third time through the order, a fourth time through the order, whatever it took. Seven innings? Vargy. Eight innings? Vargy. Nine innings? Boy, did you make Callaway look like a genius…and that ain’t easy.
Need any pretzels with that drink, Vargy? Barkeep — don’t let my man sit with the munchies! He needs salt in his system to replace those electrolytes he lost. And that’s the only thing he lost, am I right?
Know what I loved about ya tonight, Varg? Can I call ya Varg? Varg, what I loved was how ya were afterwards. I pictured a fella like you who not everybody has had all that much confidence in since ya came back to the Mets — I don’t mean me, of course, ’cause I’ve believed in ya all along  — maybe taking the opportunity of all those cameras and microphones surrounding ya to make it all about yerself. I mean ya deserved to. Ya pitched a complete game shutout on top of looking good start after start lately. Ya coulda told everybody to stick their doubts where the sun don’t shine. Ya coulda beat yer chest. Ya coulda even said “I gotta go hit the showers because nobody sent me there this entire game,” but no, you were calm, you were soft-spoken and you made it all about how you were just glad to give the bullpen a night off.
Vargy, that was beautiful. Look, right here — tears. Well, maybe ya can’t see ’em with the lights in this dump — barkeep, can we turn up the wattage in this joint so it’s commensurate with my man’s starpower? — but trust me. Inside, I’m Niagara Falls from the way ya pitched and the way ya talked about the way ya pitched.
Yer a real veteran, Vargy. I know that’s not always in style these days, but ya conduct yerself like a pro. Even when it wasn’t happening for ya in the box score, I don’t remember Jason Vargas ever griping or moaning out loud. Even when those mopes out there took their shots at ya every five days like clockwork — other mopes, not me  — ya just kept yer head down and kept throwing yer stuff until it all clicked.
And now ya got a shutout in the books and yer probably as good a pitcher as we got. No kiddin’, Vargy, it’s great to see.