Cedar Chips 2042.2 - The Worst Part of the Job

[ca13]

I'm dreading this call. Not one I'm waiting for, but one I have to make. At least I'm told my victim speaks English. That will at least keep me from accidentally insulting the guy I'm about to hit with a bus. Okay, no more point in delaying. Time to pick up the phone.

It rings a few times and a soft voice picks up, "Alo, digame?" Crap. So much for English. I scramble to click open the baseball spanish pdf I have saved somewhere.

I stammer, "Hola ... estoy el gerente general de Beiruit ... ah .. Me llamo Chuck August."

The voice changes, "Oh, hello Senor August. This is Paco Silva." I try keep my sigh of relief inaudible.

"Hello Mr. Silva. I just got the job here in Beirut and I've been familiarizing myself with our minor league system."

"Oh ...," I hear from the other end of thee call, sounding a bit despondent.

"Mr. Silva ..."

"Paco is fine."

"Chuck is fine, too. Well Paco, I've always kind of believed that the minors are a place to give young players a shot at developing their skills and making the big leagues some days. And well, I don't have a way to say this that is nice, you've been at this a while."

"Senor August," pleads Paco. "I'm only twenty-eight."

"Twenty-eight Paco. In single A ball. In the UMEBA. Your OPS this year is .425. As a twenty eight year old. In the lowest level of organized baseball in the UMEBA. I don't mean to be cruel Paco, but you aren't young for baseball anymore."

A big sigh comes across the line. "I know, Senor August. I've been waiting for this. Every time a new boss takes over. I guess ... this is all I've ever done. I've played baseball since I was a nino. Four, maybe five years old?"

"I'm just Chuck, Paco. And I can't say I understand. I've never been a professional athlete. I've never dedicated my entire life to something that allows success for so very few. But for most, it has to end sometime. For you that time, at least with this organization, is now. And Paco, you may not be young for baseball, but you are still a young man. You have a lot of time to figure out what is next."

There's a pause. I feel like crap. These are empty words. A canned speech. How can one tell a person to give up on their dreams? What I'm really telling him is we won't allow him to chase his dream with us anymore. Not we. I. I won't allow him.

"Chuck?" I can hear the tears this man is holding back. "It is hard to hear, but it is the truth. I'm not getting better at this. Many players passed me by over the years. They young ones ... they are getting better all the time ....." A big breath, "Thank you ... Some of my friends over the years ... they didn't get a call from the boss. Just the manager telling them one day. I appreciate it."

Shit. Now this man is thanking me for killing his dream. I hate myself.

"You don't have to thank me Paco. I can't imagine how tough this is. We'll help you get started moving on anyway we can. And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call. Beirut will always take care of it's own. Good luck, Paco."

"Thanks Chuck." The connection is cut. I put my phone down. Stare at the wall. One down. Many to go.

[johnd2442]

Holy freakin' hell. I love this. Such great writing. It is fantastic to see some UMEBA content! I'm so glad Paco is fine. And that Chuck is fine.

[recte44]

Wow, we have another talented writer!

[Dington]

Was Paco the bat boy with those stats?

[RonCo]

Sound like Paco has a job as a peanut vendor or whatever they sell in Beiruit

[DugoutDesperado]

Uncle Paco (as the other players used to call him) will be missed.

[shoeless.db]

You may have to turn this man into a coach this offseason...

[Dington]

He might be MVP in Kuwait

[ca13]

Thanks for reading. Shoeless, Paco may return to the franchise at some point in the future.