"It's too damn warm for this."
When you enter the famous Northwoods Outpost, it looks like a typical BBA ballpark and for the most part it is. But what plenty of teams and employees don't know, is that this park holds a very expensive secret. Today however, will be the day I get to show this secret to my latest intern Hugh Jass. He has been with the team for a couple of months now learning the ins and outs on everything that goes on about how to run a baseball team.
Greeting Hugh with a warm smile, I could see the spark of curiosity in his eyes as he wondered why I called him down to the park today.
"Good morning Mr. Wharram!"
"Morning, ready for our field trip today?"
He looked excited but also confused. He asked where we were going, after all he's experienced every inch of the park and our offices, what more was for him to see? He had no idea. I lead him through the park as we head towards towards one of the many male washrooms.
"Our trip is to the toliet?" he joked.
"No we're not going to Portland," I say, "just trust me."
We enter the bathroom as I make my way towards the urinal, more specifically the urinal 3rd away from the left wall. I tap the top of it 8 times, when suddenly a retinal scanner pops up from the top. I lean forward into it where it scans my left eye. A robotic voice responds.
"IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED: WELCOME MR. WHARRAM"
A few of the urinals suddenly lurched back and opened up, revealing an elevator before me. Hugh's eyes widened. I motioned him in to the small elevator, and push the down arrow. Soon we begin to head down, 20 stories below the park.
"So.. um... how long have we had this here?" he asks.
"Pretty much since when I started, I'm not sure if it was here beforehand or not."
Eventually the elevator comes to a stop and the door slides open, revealing a bright lights and a labyrinth like look of hallways. Guiding Hugh through the winding passages, I felt a sense of pride as we approached a nondescript door. Behind it lay the heart of our operations, where dreams were forged and destinies shaped. Entering the underground facility, I watched with satisfaction as Hugh took in the scene before him—state-of-the-art equipment humming with activity, technicians moving with purpose, and an atmosphere crackling with potential. Some might even say this looked like something you'd only see in Science Fiction or a Ron Collins novel, but this was real, damn real.
"Whoa.. how the hell can we afford all this?"
Of course I couldn't tell him all of our secrets, that our owner has been [REDACTED ON BEHALF OF THE MOUNTIES], but that's besides the point.
"What can I say, our owner really wants to win."
"And you even have a Denny's down here?"
"Yes, though that has to stay top secret, Phoenix would flip."
He continues to look around like a puppy in a new environment. Eventually he sets his eyes on a door X'd out with yellow caution tape.
"What's in there?"
"Our newest project, a player development lab." I say. "In there we'll be able to enhance our budding young talent like never before, only downside is it won't be ready until at least next season."
We continued to walk by all the different kinds of machinery but I saved the best part of the tour. We've been using this room extensively for oh, the last 9 months. I lead Hugh to the door. "Are you ready?" he enthusiastically nods. I scan my access card and the door wooshes open. Inside this room there is but one pod. A bunch of different colored wires and pipes lead into it. Hugh slowly walks over to it and gasps. Inside of it, laying unconscious in a clear liquid.. is Phil Cole.
"What the fu-"
BEEEEEEEEEEEP
The pod began to roar as the bubbles began to swirl around Cole.
"This, is our state of the art healing pod," I explain. "Cost more than most BBA franchises today."
Hugh continued to look in astonishment, then a wave of a confusion. "What's wrong with the jersey?"
"We used a jersey that came out of the press wrong, saves staining an actual team jersey."
"Makes sense."
Even I must admit I still marvel at this machine, looms like something from an early 90's anime, could've sworn I seen it somewhere before. On the machine was a display screen of his vitals, as well as the most important bit of information we need. A timer that was current displaying "29 DAYS LEFT".
"Of course whilst it doesn't help rapidly speed up healing (yet), this should have Phil Cole back better than ever."
"Unbelievable."
We turn to exit the room, and as we do I take one look back on our pod.
"We need you Phil, godspeed." The number on the display goes from 29.. to 28.
