(Streetlights along Sibley Boulevard illuminate the interior of the truck cab, where Black Sox GM and part-time South Side tow truck driver Vic Caleca is idling at a red light as he tows a metallic blue Buick Regal towards the company impound lot. His dash-mounted iPhone rings, and he sees it’s Sox owner Vinnie Vitale. He answers.)
Vic Caleca: Vinnie! What can I help you with?
Vinnie Vitale: I heard you did good with Milt.
Caleca (sounds baffled): Milt?
Vinnie: Yeah. Rectibald. Milt Rectibald, the commish.
Caleca: Oh for God’s sake. Vinnie. It’s Matt Rectenwald, which you know very well. He’s the commissioner of a major professional sports league, so you can’t pretend you don’t know him.
Vinnie: Does he own a towing business?
Caleca: Who, Matt? No, I don’t think so.
Vinnie: Hazardous waste disposal facility?
Caleca: Does Matt own one of those? No, I seriously doubt it.
Vinnie: Then I don’t know him. I depend on you to know him – and apparently you did good enough to save my man Manny and Moelling and that Sosa kid. So good on you.
Caleca: Yeah, well, thank you. Matt was very helpful – he made the adjustments we needed to the expansion draft protected list.
Vinnie: Uh huh. Hey, about that list … you didn’t put Norris Rutledge on that list.
Vinnie: Why don’t you explain to me why you did that.
Caleca: What, you disagree?
Vinnie: I don’t know yet. But he’s one of the most recognizable names we’ve got, and I was kinda counting on using him in our ticket sales campaign. Capeesh?
Caleca (steps on the gas as the light changes and continues down Sibley): Yeah, I understand, but don’t worry, Vinnie. Nobody’s gonna take Norris.
Vinnie: And you know this how?
Caleca: Well, he’s older. He’s coming off a terrible season, and he’s making $10 million. No expansion team is gonna touch that. It was like having an extra protected spot.
Vinnie: No one is gonna want a recognizable home run hitter for their one-horse expansion team town?
Caleca (eyes widen): One-horse? You think Portland and Charlotte are one-horse towns?
Vinnie: Compared to Chi-town they are, baby.
Caleca (shaking his head as he pulls up at another light): Jesus, Vinnie. But in answer to your question, no, they won’t want him.
Vinnie: So why do we want him?
Caleca: Well, because we do. We think he’ll bounce back towards his career norms, and he’ll fit our team concept nicely.
Vinnie: I thought we were going for pitching and speed and defense and all that crap.
Caleca: Well, Norris can’t play defense, but he can hit, he draws walks, and he’s fast. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.
Vinnie: OK. If you say so. (A car in the opposite lane sits too long at a light, and a truck behind it blasts its horn.) Say, where are you?
Caleca: I’m in one of your tow trucks on Sibley, heading towards the impound lot.
Black Sox owner Vinnie Vitale
Vinnie: Another overnight, eh?
Vinnie: You towing anything?
Caleca: Yeah, a 2036 Buick Regal Hybrid.
Vinnie: Broke down?
Caleca: Nah. Parked in a tow-away zone. But don’t worry, boss. I’m taking good care of it. No scratches.
Vinnie: Don’t sweat it. In fact, key the side when you unhook it.
Caleca (shocked): What? I thought we had a reputation to uphold.
Vinnie: Yeah, yeah. We do. But Buicks suck. My first car was a Buick, and it was a piece of merda.
Caleca: Sorry to hear that, boss.
Vinnie: Yeah, well, anybody stupid enough to own a Buick and then have it towed deserves whatever they get.
Caleca: OK, Vinnie.
Vinnie: All right. Have a good night. Make sure we keep Rutledge.
Caleca: Don’t worry about it. We’ll keep Rutledge.
Vinnie: Don’t forget the key.
Caleca: Vinnie, I’m not going to key that poor bastard’s car.
Vinnie: All right. Tell you what, we lose Rutledge, I key you. OK?
Caleca: Fine. We’re not losing Rutledge. I’m not keying the Buick. You’re not keying me.
Vinnie (sighs): Is it just me, or has the magic gone out of our relationship?
Caleca: Christ, Vinnie. I’ll send you flowers. Right now, I gotta get this Buick out of my hair.
[Caleca pulls away from the stop light, headed towards the South Side impound lot in Dolton, and the video ends.]