The Third Floor | The Crazy Swede (51.12)

[mragland]

9.03.2051 – Unincorporated Los Angeles County

On game days, a bank of monitors on the wall in the cafeteria is switched on, giving Stars employees various views of game preparation. Most days, this is just something happening in the background that people barely glance at. On a Sunday there will hardly be anyone around at all, but today the Bluebirds were in town and a lot of people came to the office before the game to get a little work done, or at least be seen to be doing work on a weekend, before heading over to the park.

Last night, the Stars lost by a run despite a valiant ninth inning rally. Coming into today, Valencia finds itself in a second place tie in the Pacific, six games behind league-leading Portland. Rosters had recently been expanded as well.

Marwa was a little surprised to see so many people at work today. She thinks she'll drop by the cafeteria to get something out of a vending machine. When she rounds the corner, she notices a group of people over by the monitors. There seems to be several animated discussions going on at once, and a fair bit of tittering.

'They certainly are in high spirits,' she thinks, and walks over there out of curiosity.

She is not prepared for what she sees. In front of her, evidently throwing off the mound in the bullpen is a man of about average height and build. He is wearing a scowl of intense concentration on his face and little else. His glove on his right hand, a cap, shoes with high socks, and a jockstrap. That's all. He is otherwise undressed and is the palest human being she has ever seen.

Recovering from her brief shock, Marwa says, "that's the palest man I've ever seen," to no one in particular. "Where are his clothes?"

“No idea,” says Liam, who works in … the video room, Marwa thinks?

The club's manager, Mel Jenkins, comes into view inside the bullpen and stands just at the edge of the screen, arms folded.

“Turn on the sound,” says someone behind her.

Liam obliges. For a few moments the only sound that can be heard is the pop of the catcher's mitt and the occasional grunt of the pitcher.

Then Jenkins speaks up. “Son, where is your uniform?” he asks, a tone of mild exasperation in his voice.

The pitcher receives the ball from the catcher and turns to the skipper. “Jersey had the name spelled wrong,” he says with a Scandinavian accent, “clubbies took it away.”

“They take the pants, too?” asks Jenkins.

“No, but it didn't feel right wearing half a uniform, so I came out as I was. Wanted to get to work. They spelled it 'A-L-D-E-R-S-P-A-R-R-E', can you believe that?” says the pitcher, who gets back to work, calm as you please.

“Who is this guy?” asks Liam.

“That's Salmund Adlersparre,” says Grant who has been observing from the back. “Lefty reliever we called up from triple-a. Down in Mars they just call him The Crazy Swede. Can't imagine why.”

“Is he any good?” asks Marwa.

“Depends on if you believe the scouting service or actual stats. Scouting service says he's an emergency call-up at best. Stats say he's been pretty damn good, in triple-a anyhow. Worth a look, I thought. Plus, the club could use a bit of whimsy. Things are getting altogether too tense around here.”

“Hey, Mel. I've been working on my game face,” says Adlersparre, showing the manager his scowl. “Serious stuff. Up in the big club now, in the middle of playoff race. You can see I mean business, eh, Mel?”

Jenkins points to the bullpen camera. “You know that things on, right?”

Adlersparre glances up and waves at the camera, smiling suddenly. Just then a clubby appears, bearing a neatly folded home uniform.

“Boo!” say a few of the people standing around the monitor.

[Jwalk100]

"Hey kid! This isn't IKEA! Put those huvudroll away!"

[CTBrewCrew]

….those crazy Sweeds’ and their love of partial nudity….