Off Topic
July 11, 2061: Marshall Islands – The bamboo door to Hut #1 on the Forever Land Executive atoll swings open with a little more gusto than perhaps it’s swung before. The team is in the middle of a swing through the Heartland division and is winning games. General Manager Ron Collins looks up from his papaya cognac and when he sees it’s Monica Green, his assistant GM, he swings his feet off the desk.
“What is it Monica,” he says, gathering himself.
“Sorry to bother you,” she replies as she slides further into the room. “But I have a note you might want to think about.”
“A note? Who from?”
“Mooh LaBag.”
“Picot’s agent?” Picot is Brody Picot, a starter for the Krill, who are currently in second place in the Pacific standings. Yes, life is good.
“Right.”
“What the hell does he want?”
“Says his client might be interested in sticking around another year.”
Collins sits up. “Humm. Isn’t he the same guy who told us to go pound the black sand on Pain Island earlier?”
“Apparently, his client has had a talk with him.”
Collins rubs his chin. Despite being drawing less attention this off season, Brody Picot has been one of the stronger pitchers on the staff this year. He’s 5-5 with a 4.09 ERA, which isn’t blazing, but has been the steady force the Bikini rotation has needed. He's got a 78 FIP-, whatever the hell that is. Collins has always had a soft place in his heart for Picot, and the fact is that a reliable inning eater is a big deal when you’ve got a bullpen as good as his could be going forward. He’d asked LaBag to open conversation earlier this year and got shown the hard, cold palm of the hand. He sat back and smiled. Yes, sometimes it was great to be a GM.
“So he’s groveling?” Collins says, putting his hands behind his head.
“If three years, twenty-four is groveling.”
Collins begins to laugh, then after several moments wipes his eyes with a handkerchief that has the team logo embroidered in it. “Jesus, Monica. That was a good one.”
“I’m serious sir. He wants $24M for three seasons.”
“Holy shit. Does he realize his client is 36 years old now?”
“He does, sir.”
“And that he makes $5.5M?”
“He considers that an underpay.”
“Is that so,” Collins says.
“It’s so.”
He stands up then and goes to the open bay window that is currently letting in the sweet smell of the ocean breeze. He stares out and watches white caps form on the crests of the eternal waves. He loves this place, he thinks. The power of the water is like nothing he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot. “It’s all good,” he finally says, turning back to Green.
“Tell him this:”…he waits…”you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Tell LaBag that I love Brody like he’s my own kid, so I’m thinking of calling child protective services because that kind of opening bid is akin to child abuse.”
Green smiles.
“Got it?”
“Yeah,” I got it. She turns and walks away then.
Collins goes back to staring out at the ocean sky. It’s a beautiful place, the atoll. Made even more beautiful by the fact that the team is winning, and he can put guys like Mooh in his place.
Yes, he thinks as he sits back down. Life is good.
