Afternoon Tea (2060-01): A Changing of the Guards

[woods]

Woody Donahue was soaking wet.

He trudged into the Monarchs offices in London, the carpet squelching underneath him with every step. Outside, it was time for London's daily torrential downpour, an event as ingrained as Tea Time in Londoners' daily lives.

The problem was, Donahue had just stepped off a flight from Boise, Idaho, where he had lived for over a decade. Boise was a dry desert. He didn't own rainboots, or any type of hydrophobic clothing for that matter. Today he was wearing a light pullover, cargo shorts and his running shoes.

A young person in a suit hopped over to Donahue's side. "It's absolutely pissing it down out there," they said in a strong English accent.

Donahue didn't know what this meant, or whether he should be offended, so he just decided he should introduce himself.

"Woody Donahue," he said, extending a hand. "New President of Baseball Ops."

"Oh, I'm Tayce. I'm an office assistant," they said. "I just ran over to help when you came in looking like… this."

Tayce looked down at Donahue's sneakers, which were almost destroyed from the rain. "Oh, you're going to need some new trainers."

"Why?" Donahue asked, confused. "What happened to Israel? I have a meeting with him later about the offseason development plan."

"Your shoes, mate," Tayce explained. "Those won't work here in London. And get yourself a raincoat. For now, let me take your jumper." They gestured to Donahue's pullover.

"Right." Donahue didn't have the headspace to unterstand British slang right now. He had just been handed a roster that had finished a distant fourth in its division this year, and his head was buzzing with the names of players he was planning to cut, in his official "house cleaning," as a measure to get his team back to relevance.

He took off his pullover, which now resembled a piece of wilted lettuce, and wrung it out on the carpet before handing it to Tayce. "Thanks for that," he said.

"Actually," Tayce said thoughtfully. "I think we have some team schwag left over from FanFest this year. Let's see if we can get you fitted out."

----

As Tayce led him through a tunnel and into a storage room, Donahue tried to use the opportunity to get an inside perspective on some of his players.

"What do people think about Beteev?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "I mean, would the fans miss him if I didn't re-sign him?"

Tayce ignored the question and reached for a box.

"Here," Tayce said. "We've got these Uni-style jackets. Or Varsity as you lot call them." They held up a heavy blue jacket with the Monarchs' red logo on the chest. "These go for 300 quid in the Team Shop. But here you can just pinch one."

"Sorry, pinch one?"

"I mean, um…" Tayce struggled to find the word. "Let's call it using your employee discount." They draped the jacket over Donahue's shoulders and stepped back to admire him. "There, now you're wearing the proper colors."

"Thanks," Donahue said suspiciously, wondering if the £300 would come out of his budget. "What about Harney? Would there be much backlash if I got rid of him?"

"Oh, I don't follow the sport, mate." Tayce answered. "I'm the last person you should ask about baseball. But for fashion matters, I'll get you sorted." They examined Donahue again. "I think one rally scarf and you'll be all set."

"Thanks," Donahue said. He appreciated his new friend's support, grateful for someone who seemed to sincerely want to help, and not just because he was the boss. He wondered whether Tayce's unfiltered perspective could come in handy for any upcoming front office decisions — sometimes an outsider's viewpoint could be helpful.

Then he remembered that he had stakeholders waiting, and that he would have a hard time explaining why he spent his first hour on the job looting the storage room.

"Oh, one more thing. Can you point me to my office?"

[Jwalk100]

Welcome back @woods!