The Third Floor | The Summer of Our Discontent, pt. 2 (51.04)

[mragland]

9.02.2050 - Unincorporated Los Angeles County

Alfredo is for all intents and purposes a dead man walking. The team owner had pretty emphatically said that Peebo's job was safe through the next few seasons, though Grant had heard rumors that she was nevertheless none too happy about his recent job performance. Alfredo has been given no such assurances, and his contract runs out in October. While Grant never warmed to him, he also knows the club could do a lot worse than Alfredo for a general manager. That he should pay for the club's missteps wasn't entirely fair. Grant knew that. He even sympathized enough to try and cheer Alfredo up, in his own way.

"I wouldn't worry about it, man," says Grant on a visit to Alfredo's office on Friday morning. "It's a dead-end job anyway."

"A dead-end job?" asks Alfredo. "How do you mean?"

"I looked into it. Literally no number two man on a BBA club, whether you call them assistant GMs or GMs, whatever, has ever been hired on as a permanent head man for a team. Not one. Not ever," says Grant, taking a sip of coffee. "You get an odd interim appointment now and then, sure, maybe they even interview for the job, but they never get that last promotion."

"So I've peaked, then?" asks Alfredo. "This is as good as it gets?"

"Well, I wouldn't call this good, exactly, but I'm afraid so," replies Grant, glancing at the calendar on Alfredo's wall, indicating the scores of Stars baseball games. One loss so far in September, an 11-2 drubbing by Chicago last night to complete the sweep. The team is out of town now, getting ready for a series with Des Moines. "There's a glass ceiling above all the assistant GMs' heads. Why? I can't figure that part out."

"But there must be a path to the head office," insists Alfredo. "People do get hired to run baseball teams."

"There is. You get hired to run a PEBA club, and then move on to a BBA team. That's where you should be sending your resume, the PEBA. Or you don't work in baseball at all and get hired out of nowhere. It's weird. It's like some of these guys don't even exist until they show up one day, running a baseball team," says Grant, shaking his head. "Or you step down from a GM position, bum around for a season or two, and come back to the BBA like nothing ever happened. What you don't do is ever work as an assistant GM."

"The PEBA, huh? You came from there. You think I'd have a shot running one of those clubs, with my experience?"

"I don't see why not, though I think you'd be first if you did. You certainly wouldn't be the worst at it. I mean some of these guys in the BBA are clearly not qualified to run a baseball club above the little league level, but here they are."

"Careful," says Alfredo, raising a hand. "You don't want to get into any trouble right now."

"I won't name any names," says Grant, smiling.

"Well, I'll give it some thought," says Alfredo, leaning back in his chair. "Might need to renew my passport."

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, moving on from this job might not be the worst that could happen for you, you know? So, hang in there."

"Thanks," says Alfredo. "But I'm still technically employed here, so I'm going to get back to work, unless you had anything work-related you wanted to talk about."

"No, that's it, I guess," says Grant.

[CTBrewCrew]

Ooooooo PEBA look out…