Longtime Yankees first baseman and outfielder Joe Pepitone, pictured above with former teammates Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle, opened up to Rolling Stone upon the reissue of his tell-all 1975 autobiography, Joe, You Coulda Made Us Proud.

In a fascinating but very explicit chat with Dan Epstein, Pepitone remembers playing pool against Frank Sinatra, smoking marijuana with Mantle, and hanging out with mafia members in New York’s club scene. And in one particularly colorful response, he details hiding the drugs he regularly got from fans in Wrigley Field’s ivy while playing for the Cubs in the early 1970s.

The full interview is not safe for work, but definitely worth reading if you’re not at work or your bosses aren’t uptight about stuff like this. The part about hiding drugs in the ivy is as follows, with the expletives deleted:

The Bleacher Bums at the Cubs’ ballpark, they’d hit me in the back with a (expletive) football during warm-ups, and I’d turn around and play catch with them. One time, someone hit me in the back with some foil, all wrapped up, and there’s like four joints in it. I went and stuck it in the ivy on the outfield wall, but I remembered where I put it. Once they saw me do that, the regular Bleacher Bums started throwing things at me every day; I’d get hit with a little packet, I’d look and there’s a gram of coke in there. I was like, “Holy (expletive)!” Right into the ivy with it! I’m telling you, I got speed, I got everything. Used to be I was always the first person at the ballpark, and the first one to leave; next thing you know, people are wondering why I’m hanging out at the ballpark so long. Leo goes, “You still here?” “Yeah, I gotta get a rubdown from the trainer!” Then I’d be out in centerfield with my shorts on, looking through the ivy to find my dope. I loved Chicago! With the (expletive) I was getting in centerfield, I woulda played for nothing!

So there’s that. For more like it, check out the Rolling Stone interview, where Pepitone even weighs in on the numerous references he got in Seinfeld. Again, it’s not for the easily offended, or those who prefer their ballplayers pristine.