2065.01 Put Up or Pack Up
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2065.01 Put Up or Pack Up
GM Rob McMonigal walked into owner Bo Jordan's office, knowing it wasn't going to be a good time. Unlike last year, when things were looking up, this year had been a disappointment from start to finish. Players under-performed. Players got injured. All in all, despite having the second best record under McMonigal, the Nine, at 72-90, were just one game better than last season. 270,000 less people came to the games, though they'd still been over 3 million and the team was profitable.
That wasn't good enough. It was "move the team" level. McMonigal had failed.
He knocked on the door, weakly.
"Come in," said Jordan.
McMonigal did so. "Hi Bo." He looked around the room. "I'm a little shocked there aren't boxes everywhere. I'm sure after the season we just had, you're ready to move."
The owner relaxed in his chair, rather uncharacteristically.
"No, not at all. I have no interest in moving the team right now."
"Really? I thought this was our last chance to thrive here."
"Nope. There's a lot to be said for staying here."
"I absolutely agree!" McMonigal, smiling for the first time all day, slid into the chair opposite Bo's desk. "Now we can get to work on promotions, planning a new stadium, maybe some work on the uniforms…"
"Hold up, Robert."
Jordan never, ever used McMonigal's formal name. A chill ran down the general manager's spine.
"What do you mean? These are all things we need to look at doing."
"I agree, but…"
"But what?"
"Well, I've made a decision. You either have to get a winning product on the field next season, or we're replacing you with someone else." The eyes that stared down Hall of Fame pitchers bore into McMonigal's soul.
"You're...you're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"But. Look, Bo, I hate to be that guy, but the GM's Union is very strict. You can't just get rid of me, I haven't violated a single rule besides, well, maybe not being as good as I should be. That's part and parcel when you offer one of us the job. We choose when to leave."
"There are other ways," said Jordan quietly.
"The hell there are," said McMonigal, standing up. He started gesturing wildly, nearly knocking some of the smaller keepsakes off his boss's desk. "It's just not possible. I won't stand for it."
"There's an easy way to fix the problem," said Jordan.
"And that is?"
"Win 82 games for the first time in your life."
"That's low, Jordan."
"So was our attendance by the end of the year."
"You don't think I can do it, do you? And it doesn't matter how much money we've made the past few seasons. All you want is a winner."
"I'm tired of losing, Robert. Do something about it."
McMonigal paused, thinking.
"Then I get a free hand. No interference, no limits except budget."
"Deal."
The lack of hesitation actually scared McMonigal, but he extended his hand to Jordan anyway. The Hall of Fame hitter shook on the agreement, his grip as firm as ever.
"Go get us a winner, Mac." The owner's voice softened as he returned to a more familiar name for McMonigal. "Doesn't have to be a Champion, not yet. But no more eight win Aprils. I really don't want to have to go begging to talk to the Independence people again. They want to re-name us 'Day.' I don't think I can handle that level of corny. Even if the money was right."
"I'll make sure you don't have to, Boss," said McMonigal, getting up. He left quickly, with his head held high.
Operation 2065, a plan he'd been working on for a few years now, was a go.
Now it just had to work.
That wasn't good enough. It was "move the team" level. McMonigal had failed.
He knocked on the door, weakly.
"Come in," said Jordan.
McMonigal did so. "Hi Bo." He looked around the room. "I'm a little shocked there aren't boxes everywhere. I'm sure after the season we just had, you're ready to move."
The owner relaxed in his chair, rather uncharacteristically.
"No, not at all. I have no interest in moving the team right now."
"Really? I thought this was our last chance to thrive here."
"Nope. There's a lot to be said for staying here."
"I absolutely agree!" McMonigal, smiling for the first time all day, slid into the chair opposite Bo's desk. "Now we can get to work on promotions, planning a new stadium, maybe some work on the uniforms…"
"Hold up, Robert."
Jordan never, ever used McMonigal's formal name. A chill ran down the general manager's spine.
"What do you mean? These are all things we need to look at doing."
"I agree, but…"
"But what?"
"Well, I've made a decision. You either have to get a winning product on the field next season, or we're replacing you with someone else." The eyes that stared down Hall of Fame pitchers bore into McMonigal's soul.
"You're...you're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"But. Look, Bo, I hate to be that guy, but the GM's Union is very strict. You can't just get rid of me, I haven't violated a single rule besides, well, maybe not being as good as I should be. That's part and parcel when you offer one of us the job. We choose when to leave."
"There are other ways," said Jordan quietly.
"The hell there are," said McMonigal, standing up. He started gesturing wildly, nearly knocking some of the smaller keepsakes off his boss's desk. "It's just not possible. I won't stand for it."
"There's an easy way to fix the problem," said Jordan.
"And that is?"
"Win 82 games for the first time in your life."
"That's low, Jordan."
"So was our attendance by the end of the year."
"You don't think I can do it, do you? And it doesn't matter how much money we've made the past few seasons. All you want is a winner."
"I'm tired of losing, Robert. Do something about it."
McMonigal paused, thinking.
"Then I get a free hand. No interference, no limits except budget."
"Deal."
The lack of hesitation actually scared McMonigal, but he extended his hand to Jordan anyway. The Hall of Fame hitter shook on the agreement, his grip as firm as ever.
"Go get us a winner, Mac." The owner's voice softened as he returned to a more familiar name for McMonigal. "Doesn't have to be a Champion, not yet. But no more eight win Aprils. I really don't want to have to go begging to talk to the Independence people again. They want to re-name us 'Day.' I don't think I can handle that level of corny. Even if the money was right."
"I'll make sure you don't have to, Boss," said McMonigal, getting up. He left quickly, with his head held high.
Operation 2065, a plan he'd been working on for a few years now, was a go.
Now it just had to work.
Rob McMonigal
Yellow Springs Nine Sep 2052 - ????
London Monarchs Aug 2052 - Sep 2052

Yellow Springs Nine Sep 2052 - ????
London Monarchs Aug 2052 - Sep 2052

- Trebro
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Re: 2065.01 Put Up or Pack Up
Hat tip to @recte44 for kickstarting this storyline...even I don't know where it's going!
Rob McMonigal
Yellow Springs Nine Sep 2052 - ????
London Monarchs Aug 2052 - Sep 2052

Yellow Springs Nine Sep 2052 - ????
London Monarchs Aug 2052 - Sep 2052

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Re: 2065.01 Put Up or Pack Up
I'm rooting for you. You've put a lot of hard work into Yellow Springs and all pieces are there to start a nice run. Think of it as McDonald's monopoly, you already have all the hard pieces. 3 stud young SP, 2 young lockdown RP, a 22 year old SS that the whole league wants, a decent enough CF, a super low payroll, and full bonus funds. The rest should come naturally. I'd hate to see you have to start over again.
Alan Ehlers
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- recte44
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Re: 2065.01 Put Up or Pack Up
It should and can work for you there.
Matt Rectenwald
BBA Commissioner, GM, Las Vegas Hustlers
Milwaukee Choppers (AAA) | Reno Aces (AA) | Pahrump Ranchers (A) | Kingston Legends (SA) | Roswell Aliens (R)
BBA Commissioner, GM, Las Vegas Hustlers
Milwaukee Choppers (AAA) | Reno Aces (AA) | Pahrump Ranchers (A) | Kingston Legends (SA) | Roswell Aliens (R)
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Re: 2065.01 Put Up or Pack Up
You have championship minor league teams, you have a great shot to take the next step in 2065
- Trebro
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Re: 2065.01 Put Up or Pack Up
I was pretty proud of that one, not gonna lie.
Rob McMonigal
Yellow Springs Nine Sep 2052 - ????
London Monarchs Aug 2052 - Sep 2052

Yellow Springs Nine Sep 2052 - ????
London Monarchs Aug 2052 - Sep 2052

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