Hold My Log - 51.22 - Salt in the Wound

[7teen]

Portland General Manager Chris Wilson sat in the visitors front office box of the run down Northwoods "Outhouse" watching his team lead 5-2. Yet Wilson wasn't happy. He had every reason to be. His team was on the verge of sweeping his hated rivals in Vancouver in a 3-game series to conclude the season. It's what his team needed to do to have a shot at clinching the division. But as he watched his team, he continued to glance at the scoreboard. Sacramento led 5-1 late in the game. The game was further along than the Lumberjacks game, meaning a Mad Popes win would either clinch the division or force a play-off game to decide the division. Wilson only earlier found out that a tie for the division meant another game. Moments later, San Fernando scored but it was too little, too late. Sacramento had won.

Wilson sat in the smelly box, surrounded by 20,000 some odd fans in Vancouver, the only BBA city that Wilson felt smelt like a public restroom. A homerun by Francisco Otero in the 9th pretty much sealed the Portland win. A sweep nonetheless, but Wilson was still disgusted. He just shook his head, upset over the fact his team had blown such a lead in the division and now would have to play it off for the division pennant.

Armando Castro secured the 7-2 victory for the Lumberjacks, guaranteeing the home game to decide the division but Wilson was fuming. He slammed down the drink in his hand.

"Come on, Chris! At least it's a sweep of Vancouver" chimed in assistant general manager Kate Fiscus sitting a few seats down. "We'll get em in the playoff game!" Kate tried to sound optimistic. Though she knew Wilson's mood was set.

"God I hate this damn city" Wilson chimed in. "Why no one has moved this franchise yet is beyond me. Now we have to go play a fucking extra game that only decides who gets a bye. This is just bullshit!"

Wilson stood watching his team shake hands on the field.

"Let's go get ready for the flight back to Portland. Get ready for the game anyway" Kate chimed in. But Wilson just stood there, blank stare on his face. He turned to walk slowly up the dilapidated ramp of the suite when another idea crossed his mind.

"You know what" Wilson muttered to himself and yet no one in particular. "Yeah, yeah! That'll make me feel better. Come with me, Kate!" Kate look confused but opted to follow the GM anyway. They walked down a few hallways and around some corners to the home team suite seats. Down another hall they came to a door and Wilson knocked.

"Yeah Brett, it's me. Let me in!"

A weak voice from the other side yelled "just go home. You don't need to gloat. You got your sweep. Go the fuck home!"

"Breeeetttttt" Wilson chimed in from across the door. "Let me in Breettttt" After a pause the door popped open. Wilson entered to see Vancouver GM Brett Schroeder's back walking back to his desk.

"What do you want, Chris?" Brett said. Brett saw Kate enter behind Wilson and quickly lowered his head like a defeated puppy. "Oh, hi Kate. I didn't know you were here. What can I do you guys for? Come to brag I suppose."

Wilson and Fiscus pulled up a few chairs on their own. Wilson chimed in "Now, Brett.... Am I really the gloating type?" A rhetorical question if there ever was one. "I'd never do such a thing Brett. I mean yeah, we took the season series. Yeah, we swept you this weekend. But heck, we have another game still left to play and the post-season while you polish up your golf clubs. I hear Madison is hosting the annual Denny's event this year instead of Phoenix. Sounds like a fun time. Maybe one day we'll join in . But that's not why I'm here, Breeetttt."

"Then what do you want?" asked Brett. "Just go home already."

"I want the check, Brett" answered Chris. "I don't want it mailed. I don't want it electronically. I want you to crack open that little team checkbook of yours and write the check. In person. And hand it to me, Breettttt."

"You can't be fucking serious?" asked Brett. "I'll mail it like I have all the fucking other ones you asshole."

"No Brett! I want it now. In person. It's the last one, Brett. I want the copy."

Brett looked at Chris with squinted eyes. "Fuck You! I'll mail it. Get out of my damn office" Brett yelled, pointing towards the door.

Kate, now realizing what this was about chimed in. "How's the wifey, Brett. Enjoy Disney?" Brett looked at Kate. Then back at Chris. Then back at Kate. He sat down at his desk, lowered his head into his hands.

"We're great. Things are good." He reached over to the top right desk drawer and pulled out the checkbook. "$916,666.67, right?" Brett asked.

Wilson looked at the rival GM and a sly grin went over his face. "You know what, Brett. Just make it for an even $916,500.00. Since you've been such a gracious host these years, I'll cover the last little bit of Jorge Lugo's salary myself. You know, since you were such a good sport and all"

Brett ripped the check out of the book and handed it to Wilson. "It's the full amount you bastards. Now get the hell out of here."

Wilson grabbed the check and he and Kate headed towards the door. As they got to the door Wilson turned back around to Schroeder.

"Nice doing business with ya, Breeeetttttt"

Wilson and Kate walked down the hall. "I feel better now Kate. Let's go win us a Brewster!"

@bschr682

[Dington]

TLDR; Nashville gonna open a can of whoop ass on Portland anyway

[Jwalk100]

People still write checks in 2051?

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[bschr682]

I’m still ok with that trade and everything that followed. Lugo is sneakily real bad.

And yes you are gloating. And it’s hilarious