2033.2: Election Day 2032

[Rubaboo]

November 2nd, 2032

I'm awoken from a shallow slumber by my dog barking at something. A loud, deep, guttural noise (he's a big dog) that is just the thing to frighten someone who is snoozing. I've fallen asleep on the basement couch, TV on, still in dress shirt and pants from the office. The talking heads on CNN are blathering on in the background, talking about election results from this precinct or that. Apparently the presidential race is too close to call. Interesting but borderline irrelevant in my world at the moment.

I fumble around blearily for my phone and find what's left of my drink, a rather stiff Captain and root beer with exactly 4 ice cubes, all of which are long gone at this point which means I've been out for awhile. I grab the glass and finish what's left of the wonderful brown liquid and catch a glimpse of the wall clock through the bottom of the glass, 11:35. I sigh, tomorrow is going to be a long day. Before going to bed though, I need to catch the results of the local elections.

Local elections are always kind of a cluster. School board, city council, county coroner, things of that nature. Many of whom run unopposed. There's also the obligatory school referendum that never passes, red state and all that, but the result I am particulary interested in is the last item on the ballot, given the innocuous name Referendum 525: "Shall a public staduim authority be authorized to build and operate a baseball facility and exhibition center financed by tax revenues (funded by a 3% sales tax enacted in Douglas County) and private contributions?" This is the big one for me. If this passes it gets us out of ConAgra Park, one of the most decrepit facilities in the BBA. I need to wait and watch to find out the future of the franchise.

I watch a few ads and a couple more minutes of the talking heads yammering about the west coast but eventually it becomes background noise as the ticker rolls through results. US Senate, US House, State Senate, Judges, School Board, then finally - the one I've been waiting for. I watch the results scoll across the screen: Referendum 525: Yes - 32% No - 68%. It takes the wind right out of me. In my mind I know logically that the team hasn't been up to snuff the last several seasons and that a largely conservative state is generally loathe to dedicate public spending to such frivolity but to be defeated by such a large margin is gut-wrenching nonetheless. My mind spins with questions about the future of the team. We have option years on the staduim lease for a few more seasons but then what?

I shut the TV off and search for my phone. Upon finding it I see I have a text message from team owner, Meat Poplowski Jr., that simply reads, "Did you see the results?" It's from over an hour ago. I debate texting back but know he'll still be up. "Yeah, I saw them. What do we do now?" His reply is almost instantaneous: "We'll talk in the morning. The Barnstormers will not be leaving Omaha while I still have a seat at the table."

I sigh and glance at the dog, "You want to go out, bud?" He jumps up and trots to the door, waiting eagerly. I open the sliding door of the walkout and he bounds into the snow oblivious of the storm raging in my mind. I laugh despite myself as he tunnels through a snow drift and romps back to the door. I let him in and shut the lights and TV off and head upstairs to bed, not looking forward to a restless night. Tomorrow is the biggest day of my career, maybe the biggest day in the history of the Barnstormers franchise. Tomorrow will help shape the course of the future of the BBA. Worst of all, tomorrow is only a few hours away now. As I lay down I find, to my pleasant surprise, that the Captain is helping me navigate through the maelstrom in my brain and I am quickly fading. Thank you, Mr. Morgan. The dog barks again but I barely notice this time. Tomorrow...

[RonCo]

Very nice read.

[bschr682]

Wait I thought you despised captain Morgan?