The alarm clock on GM Chris Wilson's phone went off. The blaring tune "Wake Up" by Arcade Fire blasted through the room and awoke the started leader. "5:30 already?" Wilson thought in his head as he rolled over to silence the phone. The glow of street lights still on from the dark outside awaiting the sun to rise still faintly illuminated his bedroom. He laid there in bed for a minute, trying to decide if it was really worth getting up. "Five more minutes won't hurt" he thought to himself. But he knew better. He sat up, rub his head, and pondered the dream he had just had. It was so weird. One of those dreams that it felt real but it wasn't. It was a dream.
Wilson put his feet on the floor and walked to the bathroom and took his customary morning piss. Wilson chuckled to himself over the team's team news article title knowing he was so old now he didn't have to fight that to take his pisses in the AM. Wilson grabbed his tooth brush, did his teeth, grabbed some clothes, bite to eat, and was rolling. He hopped into his pickup truck and drove the thirty minutes to his stadium office where he hoped coffee and creamer awaited along with a staff of coaches ready to discuss the off-season moves. Wilson pulled in the garage, greeted the stadium parking attendant and security officers, and walked to the office. He was met by the gleeful smell of coffee already on the pot.
He unlocked his office, laid down his bag, and went straight for his favorite mug. He filled the coffee about 2/3rds of the way to the brim and topped it off with some caramel machiatto creamer. I quick stir and a sip and suddenly all was right in the world. Except that dream. That dream still pecked at the back of his brain. He walked in to the conference room where he was glad to see the staff fully assembled, just waiting on his arrival.
"Fellas" Wilson greeted them as he took another sip from his coffee, walking slowly and carefully as not to spill a drop on his shirt. "We ready to get rolling?" he asked.
The room, silently, assured him they were ready to browse the potential off-season moves.
"Before we get started, let me tell you about this crazy dream I had" Wilson began the meeting. "It was about free agency. All of these guys were in the dream. It was so weird. I dreamt we signed Bill Morely to be our centerfielder."
The room looked confused. "I also dreamt we signed a guy who hasn't pitched in four years. Period. Not even in the minor leagues. It was so weird. The dream that is. Like it was real. But it wasn't. Like some weird deja vu experience."
The room stayed confused. Silent. Finally manager Mons Raider took to the floor. "Hey, uh, boss. That wasn't a dream. We did sign those guys. You didn't dream that boss."
Wilson, who had just taken a sip of coffee, nearly choked on it as he swallowed it down. "No, we didn't. It was a dream. One I had last night. We haven't signed anyone yet."
Again, puzzled looks and murmurs filled the conference room. Again, Raider took to the floor. "No, we did sign those guys. Morely is slated to be our centerfielder, and that "other guy", Frank Wilson, yeah, we signed him too. He's a risk for sure. Hasn't pitched in a very long time. At least his arm is well rested" Raider concluded.
Now Wilson looked puzzled. "So, that really happened? Not a dream?" The room acknowledged with nods it did happen.
"Weird" Wilson thought to himself.
He grabbed his notes out of his bag. "So let's talk pitching. We need some. A lot actually. We were awful last year. With Wullenweber and Lowry off the table and signed already, who else is out there that we can get?" Wilson asked.
Again, the room turned confused. Murmurs and shuffling of notes ensued. Wilson looked around the room confused as well. "What is it?" He asked the room.
"Who signed Wullenweber and Lowry?" pitching Coach Hugh Boyd exclaimed? "I have them still available?"
Wilson, more confused than ever (that says something) looked around and stated "Brooklyn nabbed one, not sure about the other. Phoenix maybe" he concluded shaking his head. "Aren't you guys keeping up?"
The group in the room began shuffling notes around. Looking through stacks of papers. All their reports. "Boss, we don't see anything here about either one of them being signed" chimed in Raider. "They're still free agents."
Wilson shook his head, "are you guys messing with me. I know I saw it. Wully signed with Brooklyn. Knock this shit off guys."
Raider dug through the Johnson League stack of transactions, pulled up the Brooklyn report. He held it up to show Wilson "see, boss. Just some minor league transactions in Brooklyn." He then dug through the stack to find Phoenix. He scoured over the list and shook his head. "Nothing here either, boss. Brooklyn nor Phoenix have signed either one. They're still in play. You sure you didn't dream that."
Wilson took another sip of his coffee and began rubbing his head. What in the hell has happened. Changes to the league and its makeup had confused him, but how bad was it. He had dreamt he signed guys and they really had. He thought guys had signed were real and they weren't. Had he dreamt any of this? Was he battling dimensia, or worse, alzheimers? Had losing Kate as an assistant really affected his ability to focus and build a team. He stood up and began browsing through the files and papers with the team, scouring over who might still be available. Who could the team sign, who could they afford. Who was available. Really. Who had the team really signed.
Just as chaos was ensuing in the room, there was a knock at the conference room door. The room turned to face the knock at the door. The chaos that was underway fell silent. The answer to all Wilson's questions was standing there in the doorway. It was like a sign from the heavens.
"Is one of you Mr. Wilson? I'm here for the assistant GM position"...........................
