2061.03 The Frantic Phone Call (Part 1)

[Trebro]

GM Rob McMonigal, or so he thought he was, sat in the desk of the man everyone else thinks he is, L. Eague Control III. And the longer things went on, the more he thought maybe he was actually just having the kind of mental break that happens to baseball general managers. The job did something to your health, extending your life beyond all reasonable expectations at the cost of being only able to do one thing and only run a baseball team's front office. Once you gave up and quit, many found out that doing so left you unable to want to do anything else. McMonigal/Control heard countless stories of men like him thinking they were done, only to return a few seasons later.

In some extreme cases, like those who dare to take on the Mad Popes, it can cause long-term damage. Like how Ron Collins agreed to run a team on a nuclear waste site. Was that what was happening here? Was McMonigal not really the less-than-successful GM of Yellow Springs? Was he actually just a perpetual fill-in, used when an owner couldn't find anyone willing to take on the job of a Global Baseball Conference team?

That couldn't' be the truth could it?

Someone had to know who McMonigal truly was.

In fact, the answer was staring him in the unfamiliar face all along: Bo Jordan!

Bo knows baseball.
Bo knows him!

McMonigal feverishly grabbed for his cell phone, but of course, all of his usual contacts weren't there. He'd have to call the main office line.

"Hello, Yellow Springs Nine, no really, we're a professional baseball team. How can I help you?"

"Lindy!" said McMonigal, so happy to hear a voice he knew well.

"Um, yes, this is she," said the receptionist. "How can I help you."

"I need to talk to Bo. Tell him it's Mac."

"Mac who?"

"You've got to be kidding me. General Manager Rob McMonigal. I'm on the line from South Africa, and I need to talk to Bo right away."

"Prank calls are a crime, sir. Who is this, really?"

"ARGH!"

"I'm hanging up now."

"No! Wait! I'm...a GBC General Manager with some information on Quinn Greene."

"That's more like it. Hold please."

"Ah, crap," thought McMonigal. "Now I have to pretend I know something about that guy other than he keeps trying to get into the BBA and no one wants him."

The hold music, Crosby Stills Nash and Young's "Ohio," played almost in its entirely. McMonigal was beginning to think they'd never let him through.

"Bo Jordan speaking."

"Bo! It's me! It's Mac! Don't you recognize me?"

"I was warned about this. I'm having this number traced. To even JOKE about being McMonigal when he's gone missing. Why I ought to turn you over to the FBI. In fact, I think I wi"

"Wait, please, Bo, hear me out! Who else would know about the time I insisted we keep Juan Silva back when he was a replacement level player in Short A and Ron tried to trade for him?"

"Any number of people. You sound nothing like Mac, either. This is a really poor jest. Now either you explain yourself or you're going to be getting a call from, well, the CIA I guess since you're not in this country? I have no idea how that works."

McMonigal sighed. Whatever was going on, he couldn't break the spell.

"Look, I'm sorry. My name..my name is L. Eague Control III."

"That's a stupid name. This call is over."

"Blame my parents."

McMonigal could hear Jordan laugh, despite himself.

"That bought you a minute."

"Thanks. Look, I'm hoping I could be a BBA GM one day, a really good one. One that would make a team proud to have him. But I know I'm not there yet. So I'm hoping you'll think well of me if I tell you about Quinn Greene. I think if you can get him to sign, he could really help you as a designated hitter. He'd be more powerful than the ones you've been using. And since he wants to be in the BBA so badly me, too, ha ha I think you can get him cheaply. Just consider it."

Another pause on the line.

"I will. Thank you. And remember being a BBA GM is one of the hardest jobs there is. Only the best of the best will do. Even the worst GM in our league is better than the cream of most others. So if you ever get here, know you've done something special."

"Thanks Mr. Jordan," said McMonigal, meaning it.

"Thanks for the advice on Greene. I've got one more piece of advice for you: Have fun. Even as a GBC GM, you're in the right group of people who understand you. You're with your people. Don't try to be someone you're not."

"I won't sir," said McMonigal, hanging up.

Well, that hadn't solved anything, other than to make McMonigal even more determined to get back to Ohio before the city he knew was gone.

There was only one other person left to call, much as he hated to do it. If anyone was mad enough to understand this insanity it was him.

"Lord help me," said McMonigal, as he prepared to dial.

[Trebro]

Two notes on this one:

1) Long-time readers of my stories should know who McMonigal is going to call and why he's not happy about it.

2) Bo's speech here is paraphrased from talks I've had with other GMs, especially when I've felt low. One GM in particular should recognize some of what he told me once or twice. I really took it to heart and this was my way of showing my gratitude. Thanks to all of you for making sure I don't do something stupid.