Off Topic
Travelblog of Thom S. Hunter
Editor’s Note: This is a running blog that will cover minor league players in the Yellow Springs organization. We initiated it because this kid reporter was hired without my knowledge and we needed to do something with him. He seems flaky to me. Seems like a waste of good cash. But what do I know? Good luck.
August 24, 2045: INDIANAPOLIS – Indianapolis is what happens when a place tries too hard to be something it isn’t. All that concrete in the middle of a state full of corn fields. Yeah, there’s traffic, even now with all the automated sliders running here and there, they still haven’t got the road space for all the moving that wants to get down. Which, can you blame them? I mean, hellfire Gizmodo, if I lived in Indianapolis I’d want to get outta town, too. It’s not their fault they only know how to turn left.
Anyway, I’m here to watch a cat name a Derek Cumming. They say he plays third base, though to be honest it looks to me more like he just kind of stands around the base over there and hopes the ball doesn’t come his way.
That’s not fair, really. His numbers are fine. Or at least okay. If you like wheat-bread and don’t look too close. Which, to be fair is a good idea for a lot of things in the city. Last night I was in the hotel the team set me up in, and I got bored and went out to a night club. I saw prettier folks in the pasture yards I flew over to get here, but I admit that the combination of squinting and a load of the stuff I brought in from my … uh … earlier travels … helped the situation immensely. That I got out just before the place got raided is a story for another time.
Where was I?
Ah. Yes. Cumming. I was going to talk about Cumming.
The kid was a first-round pick back in 2042, and he’s made his away slowly but steadily through the organization--a year in Alamogrodo, a year in Fort Worth. When he made 3.4 WAR back in Santa Clara, I hear the team thought he might be hot stuff. A step-back here in Indy has them wondering, though. I tells them, though, don't you worry Sam Gamgee, or is it Mr. Frodo? The Indy air has my brain in a fog. Anyway, don't you worry, I tells them. Everything looks worse than it is when you put it into Indy. At 5-10” Cumming is a little guy, but he looks okay swinging the bat, and the chicks definitely dig the overall eye test he gives. I hear he’s a switchie both on the field and off--and, no, there’s no truth to the rumor I followed him through a run of dives last night—which was an off-night for the Downforce. No truth to it at all, and no truth to the video they got of me shooting dice in that corner. Not that I got anything against throwing the bones, right? It’s just that Derek Cumming didn’t go there at all, which I would know because I most definitely didn’t follow him, got it?
I knew you did.
I think I can say with certitude that the kid doesn't drink and doesn't smoke. What I can't say with certitude is that the extra stuff I brought in has completely gotten out of my bloodstream. Kandy-Mae said it was organic and good for me, which I'm sure it was.
Anyway, I remember someone asked me to decide if Cumming might be ready to step into the shoes of current third-sacker Blaine Tyler, who is on a not-bad contract, but still more than minimum. I say: well, maybe, maybe not. Full truth, I’d think the kid could use another couple months in Indy but I hate to see anyone get sentenced to more time here than they need to be. Add that Cumming is from a place they call Goffshaw in New Hampshire, where the state motto is “Live Free or Die,” and you’ve got to seriously think about getting him the hell out of here before he goes insane and you lose your investment.
Goffshaw.
Jesus.
That said, when the time comes—which will be soon, regardless (he’s going to finish at about a WAR at AAA, and he’ll keep getting better)—he’s going to be a different kind of third baseman. He’s going to be a gritty, get yer uniform dirty kind of guy, a guy who slaps hits all around, and gets the feet moving. Look for a .350 OBP, 50 SB kind of guy rather than the slugger kind of guy you’ve got up there in Tyler. Fans love him. Teammates love him. And the couple with the turquoise and green skin I most definitely didn’t see him with last night would have loved him, too. I’m sure that's right, you know? Completely sure of everything.
Is this a recommendation?
Well?
I'm not sure I need to tell you straight out, right? I mean. You know what I’m saying, right?
I mean, it’s right there in front of you.
August 24, 2045: INDIANAPOLIS – Indianapolis is what happens when a place tries too hard to be something it isn’t. All that concrete in the middle of a state full of corn fields. Yeah, there’s traffic, even now with all the automated sliders running here and there, they still haven’t got the road space for all the moving that wants to get down. Which, can you blame them? I mean, hellfire Gizmodo, if I lived in Indianapolis I’d want to get outta town, too. It’s not their fault they only know how to turn left.
Anyway, I’m here to watch a cat name a Derek Cumming. They say he plays third base, though to be honest it looks to me more like he just kind of stands around the base over there and hopes the ball doesn’t come his way.
That’s not fair, really. His numbers are fine. Or at least okay. If you like wheat-bread and don’t look too close. Which, to be fair is a good idea for a lot of things in the city. Last night I was in the hotel the team set me up in, and I got bored and went out to a night club. I saw prettier folks in the pasture yards I flew over to get here, but I admit that the combination of squinting and a load of the stuff I brought in from my … uh … earlier travels … helped the situation immensely. That I got out just before the place got raided is a story for another time.
Where was I?
Ah. Yes. Cumming. I was going to talk about Cumming.
I knew you did.
I think I can say with certitude that the kid doesn't drink and doesn't smoke. What I can't say with certitude is that the extra stuff I brought in has completely gotten out of my bloodstream. Kandy-Mae said it was organic and good for me, which I'm sure it was.
Anyway, I remember someone asked me to decide if Cumming might be ready to step into the shoes of current third-sacker Blaine Tyler, who is on a not-bad contract, but still more than minimum. I say: well, maybe, maybe not. Full truth, I’d think the kid could use another couple months in Indy but I hate to see anyone get sentenced to more time here than they need to be. Add that Cumming is from a place they call Goffshaw in New Hampshire, where the state motto is “Live Free or Die,” and you’ve got to seriously think about getting him the hell out of here before he goes insane and you lose your investment.
Goffshaw.
Jesus.
That said, when the time comes—which will be soon, regardless (he’s going to finish at about a WAR at AAA, and he’ll keep getting better)—he’s going to be a different kind of third baseman. He’s going to be a gritty, get yer uniform dirty kind of guy, a guy who slaps hits all around, and gets the feet moving. Look for a .350 OBP, 50 SB kind of guy rather than the slugger kind of guy you’ve got up there in Tyler. Fans love him. Teammates love him. And the couple with the turquoise and green skin I most definitely didn’t see him with last night would have loved him, too. I’m sure that's right, you know? Completely sure of everything.
Is this a recommendation?
Well?
I'm not sure I need to tell you straight out, right? I mean. You know what I’m saying, right?
I mean, it’s right there in front of you.
