...Mola Ram....The Manager!
She needed a leader who struck fear into his enemies.
She needed Mola Ram.
The Mysterious Arrival
A week later, reporters gathered inside a dimly lit Madison Wolves conference room. Gertie had called for a major announcement regarding the Legends’ coaching staff, but something felt off. The usual bright stadium lighting was replaced with a deep red glow. Strange low chanting hummed from hidden speakers. The temperature in the room felt uncomfortably warm.
Then, the doors swung open.
Two figures in crimson robes entered, carrying flaming torches. Behind them, stepping through the doorway with a **commanding presence**, came Mola Ram himself — his horned headdress gleaming, his piercing eyes scanning the room.
The reporters, who had expected maybe a retired manager or a local baseball icon, froze in terror.
Mola Ram approached the podium, his robe flowing like a war banner, and raised his arms. The chanting grew louder.
Then, in a booming voice, he spoke.
Mola Ram’s Plan for Victory
"THE TITANS ARE WEAK! They do not know the suffering that awaits them! They will FALL before us, just as those who defy Kali MA!
Silence came over the room.
A few reporters shifted uncomfortably. One bravely raised a hand.
“Mr. Ram, sir, uh… how do you feel about baseball strategy? Any thoughts on player matchups?”
Mola Ram’s eyes narrowed.
"Baseball? Strategy? HAH! The Legends will **dominate** not with ‘strategy’ but with **FEAR!** Fear is power! Weak men crumble before it! By the ninth inning, the Titans will BEG for mercy! But mercy… will not come."
Another reporter cautiously asked:
"Uh… will there be, um, sacrifices?"
Mola Ram grinned.
"ONLY SACRIFICES MADE TO WIN. Our pitchers will take the mound like THUGGEE WARRIORS, striking down the enemy with precision and cruelty! Our hitters will swing their bats like the BLADE OF KALI! BLOOD WILL BE SPILLED!"**
The room was dead silent.
Then Gertie clapped her hands.
"Now *that’s* what I call motivation!"
Player Reactions
Hall of Famer Charles “Cricket” Puckett shook his head.
"I was expecting a manager to talk about fundamentals. Instead, I think I joined a death cult."
Pitching legend Danya “Satan’s Whelp" Tchekanov, however, nodded approvingly.
"I like this guy’s energy. I’ll throw strikes for Mola Ram. Just, uh… let’s keep the heart-ripping thing metaphorical, yeah?"
First baseman Juan "Mustache" Escobar leaned over to Gertie and whispered:
"You *do* realize he’s a movie villain, right?"
Gertie shrugged.
"Doesn’t matter. He’s the perfect coach. Look at him—he’s got the intensity of a thousand Brewster Series Game 7s. You think the Titans are gonna intimidate us? They’ll be too scared to step into the batter’s box!"
The Press Tries to Make Sense of It
A frantic journalist turned to Gertie.
"Miss Gertie, does Mola Ram even know the rules of baseball?"
Gertie grinned.
"Doesn’t matter. He knows how to win."
Mola Ram nodded gravely, then stepped forward once more, gripping the edges of the podium.
"VICTORY IS THE ONLY LAW. THE TITANS WILL TREMBLE. KALI MA WILL REIGN SUPREME!"
He then slammed his fist onto the podium so hard that a microphone fell over, sending an echoing thud through the room.
The reporters bolted for the exits.
Gertie just smiled.
What’s Next?
With Mola Ram at the helm, the Legends had their intimidation factor cranked to the max. But would fear and theatrics be enough to secure victory?
And, more importantly…
Would the Titans even show up after this?
One thing was for sure—this was shaping up to be the most insane baseball game of all time.
