Script for my Requiem

[CatKnight]

November 7, 1953
New Orleans, Louisiana

A humid rain weeped in from the Gulf of Mexico as the streets around me melded with fog and brownstone buildings mere feet away. I paused, removed my hat and wiped my brow as I reached for the hastily sketched map in my breast pocket. Rob Gayle, field manager of the New Orleans Blues, valued his privacy and finding his home for my interview proved surprisingly difficult.

"Pardon me, sir," said a black man as he materialized out of the mist. He spoke with a sing-song Creole accent and wore a loose fitting black shirt and pants. His shirt was open to mid-belly, exposing more beads and medallions than I'd seen on one person in my life. One looked like a miniature skull with ruby eyes. "You have two bits to help a poor soul get a meal?"

I don't like beggars. I resisted the urge to tell him to find a job and settled for, "No. Sorry."

He seemed indifferent to my rejection, simply commenting on some law of three before going on his way.

Moments later the sky darkened as the rain intensified. Somewhere a church bell tolled. Wonderful.

Another fifteen minutes or so brought me to a large boarding house, pale blue in color with a second floor balcony looking over the street. On one end sat a man wearing a t-shirt and tan pants under an umbrella reading his paper while smoking a cigar. He ignored my curious stare as long as he reasonably could, then glared down. "Peacock!?"

"Pennington. Ty Pennington. Mister Gayle?"

Gayle grunted. "Get up here. Tell the mistress downstairs to bring the whiskey and two glasses. You do drink?"

"Upon occasion. I'll be right there." The directions given, I climbed to the second floor and stood just inside the balcony's arch staring moodily at the rain.

Gayle looked over his shoulder. "Come here, son. You're going to get rained on if you want to work for me." To prove the point he put out his cigar, wedged his paper by his side, and closed the umbrella on his chair. Sheepishly I walked out.

Rob Gayle was in his sixties, a tall man with a beer belly but immensely strong arms. Gayle was arguably one of the best players in Kings' history, playing for them from 1913-26 before retiring in 1928. He'd accumulated an impressive (for the time) 79 homers, but battles with gout, infection and simple aging stole his speed. Some thought he should be in the Hall of Fame, but with a voting threshold of 80% he'd never made it in as a player. His luck didn't improve as a field manager - for eleven years he'd managed here in New Orleans without one pennant or cup to show for it.

"Hasley sent me your introduction," he said, referring to the team's general manager. "What brings you to New Orleans? Charlotte not hot enough for you?"

"Charleston, sir." Last year I managed the Charleston Mudrakers of the 'outlaw' Southern independent League. "And Mr. Hasley sought me out, sir. He thought..."

"Stop that!" Gayle snapped.

"Sir?"

"That! You don't call me 'sir.' The players call me sir. My niece and nephew call me sir. You call me Mr. Gayle."

"Yes, s...Mr. Gayle."

He grunted approval. The rain slackened slightly, but my hat was already soaked and water dripped liberally from the brim in front of my face. The boarding house owner, a plump woman in her forties, appeared with a bottle and two glasses in the archway. I took them from her and poured silently. This also met with grunting approval.

"Charleston then," he said. "What was your record?"

"47-35," I replied. "Missed the championship by three games."

Gayle snorted. "You might fit in after all. Alright. Where were we?"

"Mr. Hasley. He thought he could use some assistance and that I might learn from you by sitting on the bench." Actually Hasley said pretty much the opposite, but he'd warned me about Gayle's pride. "I have experience with both the business and field end of managing and thought I might qualify."

"I'll decide that," he growled. He stared at the rainy street for some moments. "Did the war wreck your rosters?"

"It destroyed us. We had nowhere to recruit replacements from. Even with players returning from Korea we couldn't guarantee their old contracts. The League folded in September."

"Which explains what you get out of this arrangement." Gayle nodded at the mist. "We play small ball here in New Orleans, Peacock. Our 'slugger' last year hit ten taters...our number one stole fifty-one bases. That's the kind of player Hasley likes and we get to adjust to it as best we can. If your job is to assist him, then I'd like you better if you can find me people who can consistently get on base and I'll..we'll...do the rest."

"I doubt the Redbirds will give us Galton," I replied, referring to the all-time home run champion, "but I'll do what I can."

"Good." Gayle looked up at me. The rain had stopped, but I didn't want to imagine what I looked like. I unconsciously took off my sopping hat and brushed my hair back, drink still in hand.

"Did you ever play ball?"

"College, sir...er...Mr. Gayle. Infield. My knee gave out senior year and no one would take me on."

"So you teach your players batting and fielding?" Pale blue eyes searched mine. "Good. Our hitting coach is a booby. Not that our pitching coach is much better."

Our? "Does that mean I have the job?"

"Tell Hasley I'll take you on, at least for this year. Are you married?"

"No, Mr. Gayle."

"Good. God damn nuisance anyway. I want you to get a room here. The prices are reasonable and Mrs. Wilson - the house mistress - leaves her guests alone. I want you to know your job before Spring Training."

My heart was thundering so hard I almost didn't hear his warning.

"Oh, and Peacock: I don't mind questions, but if you ever try to tell me how to do my job they won't find you until you float up with the next floods."



1953 Final Standings

National League American League
Cleveland Broncos 93-61 -- Chicago Stars 103-51 --
Chicago Whalers 83-71 10 Cincinnati Bulldogs 97-57 6
Washington Federals 81-73 12 Philadelphia Eagles 79-75 24
Brooklyn Bombers 77-77 16 Milwaukee Brewers 75-79 28
Buffalo Bisons 76-78 18 New Orleans Blues 74-80 29
Baltimore Canaries 75-79 19 New York Kings 64-90 39
Kansas City Rustlers 71-83 23 St. Louis Redbirds 63-91 40
New York Titans 60-94 34 Boston Pilgrims 61-93 42

Liberty Cup: Chicago wins 4-1



League Leaders
Batting Avg. Calvin Sabin (CIN) .402
Home Runs Marv Galton (STL) 40
RBI Marv Galton (STL) 132
Steals Brian Casavant (CHW) 70

Wins Tony Crossman (CHS) 20
ERA James Glidden (WAS) 2.54
Strikeouts Mike Worthington (NYT) 106
Saves Maxwell Rome (MIL) 11



League MVPs
NL Pitcher Aaron Hoddinot (CLE) 13-4 2.90 10 CG
NL Batter Ted McVinish (CLE) .351 18-93 21 SB
NL Rookie Andy Piper (NYT) .211 9-56 16 SB

AL Pitcher Tony Crossman (CHS) 20-7 2.78 16 CG
AL Batter Marv Galton (STL) .360 40-132 7 SB
AL Rookie Dusty Tesser (CIN) .332 11-84 21 SB

[CatKnight]

In case you haven't guessed, this is a purely fictional league that developed quite differently from our own. After I have a chance to introduce some of the highlights and history, I'll publish a .mog before 1954 starts.

Yes, I'm back...again. :( Unfortunately my recent dynasty history hurts my credibility, so all I can say to entice you to read is that this league took several days to create and advance from 1901 through today, and in imagining the grand sweep of events from then to now I've grown to care for this league. Second, this won't be like most other dynasties.... we'll certainly be playing a game and certainly trying (within house rules) to win, but the focus will be on a story I have loosely planned.

(Go ahead, Coach: Get it out of your system. I'm sure I deserve it. :X)

As you'll discover, the New Orleans Blues are one of the founding members of the American League. Unfortunately they have a problem: In fifty-three years, they are the only team in either league to have never taken a pennant. Though they had a pathetic run in the 1910s and 20s, the Blues' history is full of years they've been promising or even close...just not close enough. With the Korean War over and everyones' rosters returning to full strength, the pressure is on. It's now or never.

[T 980]

Once I get out of class I'll go home and re-read it...but it looks good so far. I'm pretty sure it will make more sense to me once I actually read rather then scan, lol

[PotatoOfCouch13]

He's baaaaaaaaack!

Good to hear from you again, Cat. I was thinking of doing something very similar for my next project, so it'll be interesting to see where you go with this.

[T 980]

Ok, I finally re-read it. I really like it! I'll be following for sure.

[Overbay17]

Good to see you back with another dynasty Cat, sounds interesting, and I'll definately be reading.

[SrMeowMeow]

Yaay!

[OldYankFan]

We have missed you, Mr. CatKnight, sir! (Don't call me sir.) :)

[ragecage]

WB Cat, very nice start

[T 980]

Was having the Milwaukee Brewers an accident or was it still meant to be in there? I noticed that today when I looked over the teams again.

[CatKnight]

T980: I'm glad you like it so far! The Brewers are actually not an accident. I hope it'll make a little more sense when I get to their team history.

PotatoofCouch: I'll be interested in seeing this project of yours!

Overbay17: Thanks!

SrMeowMeow: :D

OldYankFan: Yes, si..uhm..boss. ;)

ragecage: Thank you very much.
*******

November 1953
New Orleans, Louisiana


"Mister Pennington, it's so good to see you again." Edward Hasley rose from his chair at the unoriginal, but highly descriptive Lakeside Tavern. One thing I was quickly learning about New Orleans is that you couldn't escape the water. Lake Pontchartrain winked at me from outside a panoramic glass view. Around us the white collar elite of New Orleans ate with business partners or wives who could have been mistaken for each other if not for the colors of their dresses. Apparently pearls, bright lipstick and updos - short, soft and curled hair exposing the neck - were in this year.

Hasley was a fat, gasping man who insisted on wearing suits even in hundred degree weather... which perhaps explained why he preferred his summers sitting very still and doing as little work as possible. He might have done better in a northern city, or in a fall or winter sport, but ancient ties of loyalty bound him to the Blues much more tightly than his body's protests could withstand. He shook my hand - sweaty, but not weak - and sank gratefully into his chair. "Mister Pennington, I swear when I heard you sought out Mr. Gayle in the storm that my heart would fail. You must beware of the rain here, sir - unnatural tempests!" He regaled me with an urban legend about a man who meant to go to a store in a light drizzle, but never made it home as the drizzle was merely the foot messenger for a hurricane.

I ate sparingly, still not used to the spices favored in this part of the deep south, picking at my salad with occasionally bites of fish. Not so Hasley, who assaulted his food with the reckless abandon of the Mongol Hordes. With the necessities of being a good host satisfied, he completely ignored me until his plate was as barren as the Sahara.

"Now then, sir," Hasley said after a polite cough/urp into his napkin, "Let us get to it. As you know, your main role will be to assist Mr. Gayle with whatever he needs, and in exchange for this and financial considerations of course, I am to take you on as my...apprentice if you will."

I smiled blandly, wondering what my new field manager would think of that last sentence. "You're very kind, sir."

"It is a small price. Any man of integrity should be and must be willing to pass on his knowledge!" Hasley purred. "Allow me to give you a brief recap of our situation, and I will leave you with your assignment."

The 'recap' began with what is common knowledge. The Blues have spent the past fifty years bouncing up and down the American League without one pennant to show for it. Their owner, Mister Jeffrey Himes of Himes Realty, funneled a great deal of his personal funds into the club in the last few years to bolster finances - despite that New Orleans couldn't seem to break second division play.

"What puzzles me is this sudden chase for glory," Hasley mused. "Certainly it is nice to tote the cup and wear a ring, but Mr. Himes is usually a much more patient man - and yet here we have direct orders to engage in as much thrift as the budget will withstand...and that leads us to the first of your two assignments."

"Sir?"

Hasley patted a leather case that sat on the chair between us. "This is what my men - our men I dare say - could gather on several men who have yet to sign for 1954. I would like your recommendations on whether any of them are worth it."

I glanced inside at the neatly typewritten pages. I've seen scouting scribbles - someone went to significant trouble to make this readable and easy to understand.

"Mr. Pennington, you cannot but understand how much it pleases me to have you here," Hasley drawled. "Mr. Gayle will enjoy your keen and, shall I say, younger eye on the field and I may beg some small task of you from time to time."

"Such as going over scouting reports?"

"Precisely, sir." Hasley beamed at my obvious intelligence. "And, if I may, I will burden you with one more task."

"Of course." I folded the case shut and met his gaze.

"Learn about the league and who is around you, Mr. Pennington. There is history here - grandeur, triumph, betrayal. If you are to take your place at the table of the men who shape our beloved game, and I dare say you easily have that potential, then I want you to have a clear understanding of just what you're fighting for."

[CatKnight]

COMMENT: Over this offseason we'll briefly go over each team, and hopefully at the beginning of the year we'll take a quick look at everyone's roster so you can get a feel for this league.

First up is the National League, in order of most pennants won:

For the logos, I tried (though didn't always find) for a retro look rather than what we might see today. All logos came from CephasJames' collection of 6000 or so on Photobucket. (http://s78.photobucket.com/albums/j96/cephasjames/)
*******

Interlude I - National League (1 of 2)


CHICAGO WHALERS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/ChicagoWhalers.png

Former Names: None
Pennants: 13 (1901/02/03/08/20/25/26/36/39/41/42/43/44)
Liberty Cups: 7 (1901/03/20/25/39/41/42)

Perseverance. Dignity. Strength. Behind every decision made by the National League one usually finds the calm, steady hand of the most conservative team in a league of conservative owners. Unsmiling men having more in common with those on Wall Street than their players or fans rule the boardrooms of the Whalers. Their one moment of notoriety came in 1943 when, desperate for players, they signed the first woman to a professional baseball contract.

The Northsiders have an ongoing natural rivalry with the AL Chicago Stars, but not much of one within their own league. The closest team, Cleveland, can only now be recognized as a power while emotions between Whaler and Rustler management goes far beyond rivalry and dates back to before there was a team in Kansas City.

KANSAS CITY RUSTLERS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/KCRustlers.png

Former Names: Albany Rivermen (1901-32), Albany Pirates (1933-39)
Pennants: 11 (1909/15/28/29/31/32/33/34/37/38/40)
Liberty Cups: 7 (1909/15/28/29/31/32/34)

The Albany (NY) Rivermen began play in the smallest city in the League, but emerged as one of the strongest under flamboyant showman Art McCarr (p. 1922-1939). Clever promotions and deals with local entertainment helped the Rivermen flourish well into the Depression.

Unfortunately, the Depression pointed to the need to move teams to bigger cities with more potential for revenue. Starting as early as 1928 Whalers management and the National League pushed for a move to a more 'lucrative' city. McCarr fought back simply by winning pennant after pennant, then snubbed the NL entirely by changing the team name. "The fans are usually the court of last resort," he told reporters in 1934. "As long as they want us in Albany, we'll be here."

The cold war over Albany's fate lasted until 1939. With more knowledgeable fans casting their worried eyes towards tensions in Europe, detractors pointed to the National League's generous revenue sharing plan, Albany's relative weakness as a market, and attributed the Pirates' success to communist behaviors. When the vote to force McCarr to sell came about, there was no furious outcry and McCarr went into retirement.

Kansas City attempted to pick up on Albany's reputation with the Rustlers team name, but the tone in KC is much different. One gets the impression they don't take their game seriously, and for the last thirteen years Kansas City hasn't played like it either.

BROOKLYN BOMBERS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/BrooklynBombers.png

Former names: Brooklyn Bridegrooms (1901-18)
Pennants: 11 (1911/12/17/18/22/45/46/49/50/51/52)
Liberty Cups: 5 (1917/18/45/51/52)

Despite their fourth place finish last year, the Bombers are considered one of the strongest, most adaptable organizations in the NL having won six pennants in nine years. As a whole they like to take risks, such as a making a concerted effort in the mid-1940s to move operations to Los Angeles. "The Pacific Coast is ready for baseball," said owner Arthur Grand, (p. 1934- ) "and baseball needs to thank the men and women there who persevered despite the omnipresent threat of the Japanese Fleet."

Finding someone to go with them to the west coast was a problem, however, and many fingers pointed at the New Orleans Blues. Indeed, motions to force Jeffrey Himes to sell the Blues to a San Francisco conglomerate where in place when they lost city funding for a new stadium.

Fan reaction to these plans runs the gamut from apathic to hostile. Most people agree such a deal will never happen - at least while they keep winning pennants.

BUFFALO BISONS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/BuffaloBisons.png

Former names: Chicago Terriers (1901-20)
Pennants: 10 (1904/13/14/16/19/21/27/35/47/48)
Liberty Cups: 8 (1904/13/16/19/21/35/47/48)

After being 'encouraged' to leave Chicago by National League ownership, the Bisons moved to Buffalo and have become a solid, steady presence in National League politics. They were part of the coalition that helped push the Pirates out of Albany, as this helped improve their fan base and currently are marketing themselves aggressively in the Erie, Pennsylvania area at the expense of Cleveland.

They've also argued against any team movement towards the Pacific Coast. Now that the league is financially stable, Bisons management believes it makes more sense to cautiously expand in that direction rather than moving teams out of New York or elsewhere.

[FloydtheBarber]

Great start, nice to see you back!

[rockiesfan4ever]

Great to see you writing again Cat

[T 980]

I'm jealous of your writing. It makes me want to step up my writing skills in my dynasty, lol

[CatKnight]

Floyd the Barber: Thanks. Good to be back!

rockiesfan4ever: Thank you.

T 980: That's nice of you to say, though there are many excellent writers on these forums. My advice is to write in a style that suits you best, and the rest will follow. :)
*******

Interlude II: National League (2 of 2)

The National League might as well consist of two divisions. The "haves" own 45 of 53 pennants, or 85%. The other four teams only own seven between them. At most they get credit for showing up to play year after year, though fans here know it's usually just a matter of time before their team sinks into obscurity for another season.

NEW YORK TITANS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/NYTitans.png
Former Names: None
Pennants: 3 (1905/06/24)
Liberty Cups: 2 (1905/24)

Part of the desire to move a team (preferably two!) out of New York is the relative weakness of the Titans and AL Kings as compared to the Brooklyn Bombers. New York is a Bomber town, and outside of local neighborhoods and of course their home stadiums it's almost unheard of to see a cap with the letters 'NY' on it. There is a growing faction within Titan management to try their luck on the Pacific Coast (or pretty much anywhere they can start over), but finding a partner to go with them out west is problematic. While the Bombers might still be willing to tag along, the NL is unlikely to abandon New York City entirely.

WASHINGTON FEDERALS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/WashingtonFederals.png
Former Names: None
Pennants: 2 (1907/1923)
Liberty Cups: 1 (1907)

Though the Federals' formal name has never changed, they have more nicknames among locals than the rest of the league inclined - Soldiers (since WW II), Senators (not meant as a compliment) and Republicans (during the Eisenhower administration) are most common nowadays. Though there is occasional talk of abandoning this part of the country to the Canaries (see below), it's unlikely the NL would be willing to give up the US capital.

Union Field, their home stadium, was the site of the 1943 All Star Game and the ugliest political battle in baseball history. Then commissioner Pat Ganley, (c. 1937-1943), who later turned out to have unhealthy ties to Nationalist parties in America, tried to forbid teams from publicly mourning those players they lost in action around the world. He argued that it was bad for morale, but instead created a backlash that has crippled commissioners to this day. Ten years later the AL and NL are completely seperate entities who merely agree to recognize each others' contracts and hold certain events (like the Liberty Cup).

BALTIMORE CANARIES
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/BaltimoreCanaries.png
Former Names: None
Pennants: 2 (1910/1930)
Liberty Cups: 0

The Canaries (sometimes referred to as Orioles) have, until recent years, stayed on the sidelines of the National League simply content to field a team each year. Businessmen consider Baltimore an excellent risk despite their record of futility. Revenue sharing, Baltimore's tendency to spend frugally, and frequent transfers to owners' bank accounts ensure that no one with any interest in the Canaries goes hungry.

Well, except fans wanting a championship...

CLEVELAND BRONCOS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/ClevelandBroncos.png
Former Names: Philadelphia Patriots (1901-21), Philadelphia Keystones (1921-30), Cleveland Green Socks (1931-52)
Pennants: 1 (1953)
Liberty Cups: 0

One of only two teams to actually fail, the National League's Philadelphia team consistently underperformed and ultimately couldn't stand up to the AL Eagles. As their fanbase steadily eroded, they tried changing team names and all kinds of gimmicks before finally succumbing to creditors after 1930.

The National League sold the franchise to Bart Dylan (p. 1930-51), a close friend of Cincinnati ownership. Dylan accepted many voluntary restrictions to ease concern that he might sell his players to bolster Cincy or vice versa and instead did everything he could to encourage a good natured rivalry across the state of Ohio. The fact that, until this year, neither team had earned a pennant since the 20s somewhat hampered this effort.

The "Green Socks" moniker was meant to reflect on the Cincinnati Red Socks. When Cincy changed their name after the 1952 season to show their contempt and concern for communism, Cleveland did the same. So far it's brought them luck.

[CatKnight]

November 1953


One hundred sixteen. That is how many players the combined Major Leagues confirmed as eligible to be signed, and yet had no team to call home for the 1954 season. Most of these people were never weres - those who were never taken in a draft or never made it out of the low minors before someone gave up on them with good reason. There were a few surprises though, such as Robin Frechette.

Mrs. Frechette has the honor of being the first female professional ball player. Signed by the Whalers in 1943, when everyone's rosters were reduced to the breaking point, she played in the Liberty Cup that year losing to the cross-town Bears (now Stars). She wouldn't be seen again until 1946 where she emerged with the Cincinnati Red Socks. Finally, just two years ago, she played her first full season for the Canaries. Frechette played in all 154 games last year, but Baltimore decided they could do better and released her.

She is not what one might expect by looking at the fashion magazines. Mrs. Frechette is not pretty. She's built like a farm girl, which thick arms and calves, and hit twelve homers last year.

I hope she finds a team, but given what I've seen of Mr. Hasley so far, it won't be with New Orleans. He would be happier if all the women who've slipped in over the years would quietly retire and go back to their kitchens. Anyway, we don't need another second base..er..person.
*******

I narrowed the possibilities down to a handful of names: We didn't need a catcher, but having a suitable backup would be good, and every team is always in the market for good pitching. On Monday morning I took my candidates to the Blues' offices to hash it out with our general manager.

He didn't show.

I waited for several hours, watching the hands on the old 'gentleman's' grandfather clock slowly rotate, but not once did Mr. Hasley appear. Finally about one in the afternoon I stomped out to find Marge filing her nails. Our secretary had little to do in the offseason until and unless someone started giving orders ... an efficient typist though. It was her who'd prepared my reports on these players so neatly.

"Marge? When is Mr. Hasley coming in?" I asked for the third time.

She looked up and gave a small shrug. "As I said, Mr. Pennington, Mr. Hasley comes and goes as he wants." She spoke with an accent I couldn't place...sort of southern, but with a distinct nasal air.

"Could you call him at home?"

"Of course," she replied, her tone indicating she didn't expect this to work. Long fingers danced across the phone's wheel and she spoke with an operator. "Yes, I'll hold," she said, stifling a yawn. "Oh! Mr. Hasley! It's Marge...yes, everything is alright. I didn't think you'd be home. Mr. Pennington has been here all morning and....and...." She covered the receiver. "Mr. Hasley asks what you're doing here."

"Going over potential free agents?" I asked, my eyebrows climbing.

She relayed this. "Are you...? Yes, Mr. Hasley. I'll tell him." She covered the receiver again. "Mr. Hasley says to do as you think best, and you can go over it next week."

"Next week? Let me talk to him."

She pursed her lips and handed the phone over silently.

"Mr. Hasley? This is....but weren't we supposed to meet? Yes, sir...Yes......Hello!?" I stared at Marge. "He hung up on me!"

She shook her head and took the phone back. "Mr. Hasley says that fall is a strange time to be thinking about baseball."
*******

I stomped back to my desk and looked over my notes, including a list of procedures for signing a free agent and a neatly typed and spaced note from Mr. Himes' accountant regarding the size of our team budget. I began dialing:

"Chris Miller, please?"

"Speaking," answered a gravelly voice.

"Chris, my name is Ty Pennington. I'm the assistant GM in New Orleans, and I see here that..."

"New Orleans?" Miller laughed. "Ain't that where careers go to die?" The conversation deteriorated from there.
*******

Alright, so no catcher. I tried another number.

"Wilson residence," said a cheerful woman.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. Is Palmer in?"

"Certainly." A few moments later a man answered and I introduced myself.

"I'm glad you called, Mr. Pennington. I would love to play for New Orleans," Miller said. "I have some good friends in the area, and I'm tired of the northern weather. Why, do you know it's snowing in Maine already?"

I did not. "Mr. Miller, I can't offer much. Perhaps $29,000 per year for two years, and..."

"Make it three and you have a deal, boss." Miller grinned into the phone. "Admit it. I'd have to be pretty awful not to be worth that much to you."

I smiled. "Alright, Mr. Palmer. I think I can give you that. I'll see you in Florida in a few months." Palmer would have to fight for his position on the roster, and $29K was a lot of money if he wound up in the minors to start the year, but at least it was progress.
*******

Several more calls brought me to the offices of the Philadelphia Eagles and their new GM, Vern Russell.

"You'd know best, Ty," said Vern tiredly, "but I can't spare you any catchers. Looks to me like you could use a shortstop though. Decker's not doing it for you, and you won't know how Herskewitz is until he returns from Korea. I have a guy you can have fairly cheap - he's been languishing on the bench, but he'd be your number one."

"What's his name?" I asked, reaching for the official statistics.

"Dobry. Jeff Dobry."

At age 24, Dobry .347 with 2 HR and 24 RBI in 98 AB. Decker was 30, and batted .262 1-72 in a full season. Herskewitz was also 24 years old, and batted .277 8-79 in 1952...could he return to that form? Dobry's contract wasn't that expensive...

"What do you want for him?"

"Tell me about your pitchers," Russell said. "We're looking for depth here."

"Pitchers I can spare, especially Terry Haley. Have you heard of him?"

"Played one inning with the Redbirds last year. How did you end up with him? I thought Himes didn't like black men on his team."

"That's why he's available," I replied.

"Oh. Well, let's make a deal."

Fall's a strange time to think about baseball, huh?
*******

Game Notes


Signed: Palmer Wilson (81) [33] for $29,000 thru 1956. (7-6 5.05 3 CG with NY Kings).
* As I have several pitchers in the 80s, Wilson will probably be long relief.

Trade:
PHI-NWO: SS Jeff Dobry (82) [24] (Arb 54) (.347 2-24 2 SB with Philadelphia)
NWO-PHI: SP Chris Wilkinson (76/78) [27] (Last played MLB 1950)
NWO-PHI: SP Terry Haley (76/78) [27] (0-0 0.00 0 in 1 IP with St. Louis)
NWO-PHI: SP Joe Mathews (76/78) [27] (Rookie)
* A pack of players who might fill the back of Philly's rotation with a little development and luck, for Dobry who will almost certainly be my new starting SS.

[CatKnight]

Interlude III: American League (1 of 2)

The American League was founded in 1901 on the ashes of the Players League (1890-1899) which ultimately succumbed to poor management and an inability to compete financially with the much stronger Union League (1876-1900). The PL managed, if nothing else, to guarantee what's now known as free agency and the end of the much reviled 'reserve clause.'

Though relations with the UL and its successor, the National League, were cool at first, pragmatism reigned and the first Liberty Cup was held in 1901. Since then the two leagues have formed the uneasy coalition known as the Continental Baseball Association.
*******

PHILADELPHIA EAGLES
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/PhiladelphiaEagles.png
Previous Names: None
Pennants: 13 (1907/10/13/14/16/17/22/23/30/31/44/46/51)
Liberty Cups: 7 (1910/14/22/23/30/44/46)

Look at the American League standings, and the Eagles are usually near the top. Having driven the Patriots/Keystones out of Philadelphia, they consolidated their hold as effective presidents of the Americans. "Ruling" with a lighter hand than their Chicago counterparts, they rarely make any effort to rally the other owners. One of the few exceptions came in 1943 when then Commissioner Ganley tried to stop member clubs from publicly mourning their fallen players. This edict directly impacted the Cincinnati club, who turned to the other AL owners for help. The Eagles were instrumental in unifying them and forcing Ganley to resign.

MILWAUKEE BREWERS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/MilwaukeeBrewers-1.png
Previous Names: Milwaukee Brewmasters (1901-1919), Milwaukee Lakers (1919-1933)
Pennants: 13 (1909/18/19/20/35/36/38/39/40/41/42/45/47)
Liberty Cups: 3 (1936/38/40)

Easily the most dominant team of the late thirties and early forties, the Brewers are the only team in baseball history to change their name in midseason. Pressured by the US Government following the passing of the Volstead Act (Prohibition), the Brewmasters reluctantly and with poor grace changed their name to the Lakers late in the 1919 pennant race.

It's a sign of their contempt for governmental (or any) interference that the Brewmasters never changed their logo to reflect the name change, and changed over to the 'Brewers' days after Prohibition was repealed. To this day they remain a defiant, proud lot who like to 'tell it like it is.'

CINCINNATI BULLDOGS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/CincinnatiBulldogs.png
Previous Names: Cincinnati Red Socks (1901-1952)
Pennants: 9 (1908/11/15/24/25/26/27/28/29)
Liberty Cups: 4 (1908/11/26/27)

For much of their history, the Bulldogs remained on the periphery of the American League. This began changing in the late 1920s when they won six consecutive pennants, and ended forever under the leadership of Peter Mangoli (p. 1928-1943). Mangoli formed a close friendship with Cleveland management setting up a pseudo-rivalry for the state of Ohio.

A patriot by nature, he lost his first son in the Battle of Midway (1942) and set up a memorial for those lost in the fighting. When the Pilgrims lost the 1941 Cy Young winner and the Bears lost a five time Gold Glover over the winter of 1942-43, he ordered flags lowered to half mast for the '43 season as public address announcers began each game listing those who'd fallen. This earned the ire of Commissioner Hanley.

After Mangoli's death his son, Tomas (p. 1943- ) took control. In August 1952, by a freak of Army logistics, eight baseball players happened to be fighting for the same unnamed hill on the Korean border when a series of suicidal charges wiped them out. Eager to show his disgust with communists and communism, Tomas disavowed anything to do with the color red and ordered the team's name changed.

BOSTON PILGRIMS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/BostonPilgrims.png
Previous Names: Boston Minutemen (1901-1921)
Pennants: 6 (1901/02/03/21/32/33)
Liberty Cups: 2 (1902/33)

In the most shameful moment of modern baseball history, eight players on the Boston club conspired to throw the 1921 World Series to Buffalo. This caused the introduction of a baseball commissioner to oversee interleague matters, a position that vanished in all but name in the middle of 1943.

The sixteen teams together banished these men from ever playing on the diamond again. This raised some outrage at the time, for the eight were cleared of misdoings by a grand jury. Owners took matters into their own hands and held a private 'trial' where none of the eight were invited to testify. Player efforts to organize a counterstrike came to naught and it took eleven years for the contrite 'Pilgrims' to once more win a pennant.

[CatKnight]

INTERLUDE IV: American League (2 of 2)

And lastly, the 'have nots' of the American League (though the line here isn't as clear cut as with the Nationals)


CHICAGO STARS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/ChicagoStars.png
Former Names: Detroit Wolverines (1901-1940), Chicago Bears (1941-1943)
Pennants: 5 (1943/49/50/52/53)
Liberty Cups: 4 (1943/49/50/53)

The defending Cup champions began life in Detroit and languished there for forty years before the aftereffects of the depression and league officials convinced them to move to Chicago and challenge the Whalers for control of the second largest city in the US.

It proved to be a wise move. Enough Chicagoans switched their loyalties to the Southside club to greatly improve their revenue streams, and within three years the Bears won their first pennant. After the season they honored the war effort by changing the team name to the "Stars and Stripes." Technically it remains that way to this day, though most people simply use the moniker 'Stars.'

NEW YORK KINGS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/NYKings.png
Former Names: New York Highlanders (1901-1912), New York Youngbloods (1913-1922)
Pennants: 4 (1904/05/06/34)
Liberty Cups: 1 (1906)

The American League entry in New York has always been an afterthought, with but one moment of glory in 1905-06 when they played the NY Titans in consecutive Liberty Cups. Local media reviled their original name (Highlanders) due to its potential ties to a then still hostile Britain. Their second name became associated with youth gangs during the First World War. Since they play in the Bronx, and another name for the Bronx district of New York is 'Kings', they changed names again in 1923. This time it stuck.

Like some other teams, the Kings occasionally come up as a potential team to head towards the Pacific Coast, but it's unlikely the AL will abandon the largest city in the United States to their National rivals.

ST. LOUIS REDBIRDS
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/StLouisRedbirds.png
Former Names: None
Pennants: 3 (1912/37/48)
Liberty Cups: 2 (1912/37)

St. Louis earned a great deal of notoriety in 1948 when they became the first team to draft a black player, pitcher Terry Haley (who we just traded to Philadelphia). Like Brooklyn, Redbirds management likes to innovate and be on the forefront of the game. They gambled on a power hitter named Marv Galton in a league who has little use for power, and he smashed the all time record with 450 taters.

In the last few years relations between St. Louis and Cincinnati have collapsed. When the latter chose to change names in an effort to disavov Communism, they asked St. Louis to do the same. The Redbirds refused, saying in Winter Meetings that it "...is ridiculous to forsake an entire color, just because the Russians and Chinese adopt it as well." Charges of anti-patriotism flew and the Redbirds GM stormed out of the meeting.

NEW ORLEANS BLUES
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/NewOrleansBlues.png
Former Names: None
Pennants: None
Liberty Cups: None

The most unlucky team in baseball, New Orleans has occasionally been blessed with great players (including one in the Hall of Fame) but has yet to raise a single pennant over Blues Stadium.

The Blues avoided bankruptcy in the 1920s but have been unable to shake the image of a team that doesn't belong in the Majors. It doesn't help that, as the only southern city in either league, their presence adds significantly to each team's travel costs.

Accused of being lacksadaisal and apathic about the game, efforts to force owner Jeffrey Himes to sell after World War II met with startling resistance. They've developed a fierce rivalry with the Philadelphia Eagles, who not only champion efforts to force the Blues to move, but during the war threatened to change their name to the Blue Jays in an effort to seize the 'brand name' and drive New Orleans out of baseball.

[CatKnight]

December 1953


"I merely believe you could have consulted me, sir," said Edward Hasley. The general manager of the New Orleans Blues sat on the front porch of Himes' mansion, really a converted plantation, and lifted his face to the cool December air. Even now it smelled of flowers and the promise of a gentle spring followed by a torrid summer.

"I tried." I couldn't believe Hasley was still upset about my making that trade. "You hung up."

"I was already detained, sir!" said Hasley sharply. He frowned at me and raised his glass. "You will learn, I believe, that after the initial signings and trades in a postseason there is a period of time when it is best to digest one's gains and losses and..."

"Philadelphia did not think it was time to relax!"

"Vern Russell lives in his office."

"Boston and Baltimore have traded with each other twice in the past month, and both our still signing free agents!"

"Northerners, Mister Pennington." Hasley huffed and closed his eyes. "All their hustling, and where has it gotten them? When's the last time either one have won anything?"

"At least they're trying!"

"Enough, sir! I wish you would..."
*******

"I hope I am not interrupting." Jeffrey Himes was a tall, lean man with pale grey hair and glasses who favored white suits. He lifted his drink in salute to his visitors.

"Not at all, sir," Hasley said. He beamed and indicated the wicker chair next to his. Himes sank down gratefully and rested his cane across his knees. "I was just explaining that.."

"How do you find New Orleans, Mr. Pennington?" Himes asked suddenly.

"Very well, thank you."

"And how is Mr. Gayle? I am sorry he took ill."

"So am I. He sends his regrets." Gayle did get sick - so he said at least, He regretted nothing though: I deal with that damn fool enough during the regular season, Peacock. I don't need to see him during the winter!

"I am sure." Himes smiled. "Edward, I hope you will excuse us, but I'd like a word with Mr. Pennington."

"Of course." Hasley gulped down the last of his whiskey and surged to his feet. "In fact, I think I will take a turn. Gentlemen?"

Himes watched him leave, then without turning said: "You have injured his pride."

"That wasn't my intent, sir."

"Oh yes it was." He glanced my way. "You think he's not taking his job seriously and so you took matters into your own hands. In my opinion you were right to do so."

"Thank you." I relaxed and closed my eyes.

"Don't do it again."

"Sir?" I spun.

"Tyler...I can call you Tyler? Edward is an old, dear friend of mine. He has been with me in one capacity or another for twenty years. You don't need to tell me he doesn't have the sense of urgency one might want in a general manager...but that is his role. Guide him. Support him. Urge him out of his torpor by all means, but I must ask you not to go around him again."

"I understand."

"Excellent, then let us speak no more of it." Himes sipped his drink. "I have given you all the resources I can. By all means keep your eyes open for more opportunities. It's important we do well this year."

[CatKnight]

Winter 1953-54


Christmas came and went as I'm told it often does in New Orleans, cool and wet but without any snow. The curious Creole culture put their own stamp on the season with ornaments that hint at pagan rituals and black Santas in abundance.

This is not to say New Orleans doesn't take Christmas seriously. I spent a full day in the French Quarter visiting actors dressed as historical characters, attending demonstrations, and walking in the carnival like atmosphere past a thousand performers and visitors. In the evening the Quarter slowed, but by no means stopped, as more somber and holy rituals took the field. Carols by candlelight yielded to prayers and midnight vigils and softly, almost imperceptibly, Christmas came.

My cold war with Edward Hasley continued through the early winter. We remained polite, even friendly on the exterior, but he still took offense to my taking action back in November. I was both sorry for it, as I really hadn't planned to step on his toes, and annoyed that he could be so petulant.

We did agree that by the beginning of 1954 there wasn't much to do except wait for Spring Training. He let me sign another free agent, a backup third baseman named Will Thirlwell (.243 2-58 11 for MIL), for $6,000 but that was all.

As Hasley's new assistant, I didn't receive an invitation to Winter Meetings in Dallas. From what I could gather I missed very little: The league is stable and thriving, if not booming. Attendance league wide has been down for the last two years due to the war, but now that everyone's rosters are returning to full strength that's expected to improve. Once more there is rumbling about teams moving out west, and once more there doesn't seem to be much consensus about who should go or if either league should expand to ten teams.

Rob Gayle's training continued: We went over strategies, compared philosophies (with him insisting he was right) and discussed how best to condition and train our players. "Most of the boys we'll work with have been there before," he told me. "One of your jobs will be to take any rookies under your wing along with the returning war veterans. The rookies have no idea how we do things, and the vets need time to wind down after being shot at by gooks."

"Have you been in contact with any of them?"

"S***," Gayle shook his head. "They see enough of me during the year. They don't want to see me anymore than I want to see them!"

Life went on: In January, Washington Federal outfielder Tony Teplitsky (90) [36] (.309 15-88 11 in 1953) married actress Marilyn Monroe. Foreign ministers from Britain, France, the US and Soviet Union met in Berlin to soothe tensions following the Korean conflict and work on a final solution for Germany. President Eisenhower authorized more funds for military support in Vietnam while warning against direct intervention. The first mass vaccination against polio began in Pittsburgh...

In mid-February New Orleans' tepid winter began to warm further and I boarded a locomotive heading for Tampa. Across America a few hundred select players, coaches, managers and even umpires did much the same, converging on Florida and Arizona by train, car and even boat. A few hard weeks of stress, sweat and toil in the southern sun and it would finally be time to play ball.

[OregonDuck1989]

Diggin it so far. I like the fictional league dynasties. I miss mbanghars.

[petrel]

It's good to see you back, and writing again.

[CatKnight]

Oregon: I miss mbanghar's too. I enjoyed it while it lasted.

petrel: Good to see you about!
******

March 1954


"Scott! Come here a second!" I walked from second base towards shallow left with our new shortstop, Jeff Dobry, in tow.

Scott Presson was a huge man with short blond hair in a military cut. The twenty-six year old lost the last two seasons fighting up and down the Korean peninsula. He'd come home with the thanks of a grateful nation - and an ungovernable temper. Due to the vagaries of our roster the left field role was his to lose, but....

"Yeah, coach?" Presson lifted his chin and stared down at me, hands on his hip.

"What the hell is between you and Jeff?" I demanded.

"Nothing."

Dobry folded his arms. I shook my head. "Jeff says you told him he loves the gooks."

"Yeah?"

"Just because someone didn't fight with you doesn't mean they like the gooks."

He turned away.

"Presson!" I nodded to Jeff. "You go back. I'll take care of this."

"You should go with him, coach," Presson warned softly.

"Scott, the war is over. We won. Congratulations. Now you need to learn how to work with your teammates. We're your squad now!"

"You ever do any fighting?" he challenged.

"I was in The War." I served stateside, but it wasn't a lie.

He nodded grudgingly. "Maybe."

"No maybes about it." I frowned. "Doc tells me you're having nightmares."

"Doc talks too f-ing much."

"Yeah, well the next time you're fed up, don't take it out on the other players. Find me and we'll have a drink."

From a career standpoint, Scott had it lucky. Across the league, and even here in New Orleans, there were people who'd gone to war with well wishes and promises from owners ringing in their ears, sacrificed a year of their careers, and came back to find they'd been superseded. Chris Herskovitz thought he was a victim of this: The shortstop would start the year in AAA, but I thought in a year or two he'd be back with the big club. He sat in the dugout talking to outfielder Alan Hobby and watching me steadily.
*******

Along with coaching and supporting the veterans, Rob Gayle wanted me to keep an eye on the rookies. Well, we only had one that was likely to make the club and so I headed for the pitchers. While there wasn't much competition among the fielders for a roster spot - we'd only invited eighteen men to fill fourteen spots - the pitchers were a diverse lot with everything from our rising stars to those who'd peaked and would probably never return to New Orleans.

Sean Gyle was one of the former: At 26 years old, he'd begin the year as long-relief/# 6 starter, but in another year or so I fully expected him to be in the rotation if not staff ace. Last year he went 12-3 in AAA and featured a decent fastball as well as a tolerable curve and changeup.

I watched him for a few minutes: He was already pitching near full speed, albeit slowly. Gyle glared at the backup catcher, perspiration dotting his forehead, before whipping the ball across his body in something closer to a convulsion than a pitch. It worked for him though, for the ball landed in the mitt with an audible smack.

"Sean!"

"Coach." He nodded to his battery mate then hustled over. "Did you talk to Mr. Gayle about my being in the rotation?"

"I did." I smiled and held my hands out. "We agree that you need a bit more seasoning before..."

"No, coach! I'm ready to pitch. I've played it your way - their way for seven years. I was drafted in '47 for Christ's sake! What more 'seasoning' do I need!? You know there are teams I could start for - Brooklyn for example!"

Quite possibly. Brooklyn's rotation was a joke. Furthermore.... "And do you think you're also up to training their catcher? Dexter here could start for them easily," I indicated his battery mate, "and Dexter's happy here in New Orleans. Aren't you?"

"Actually..."

"Of course you are! Sean, ambition's a wonderful thing. I know you've been patient with us, but the truth is there's still much for you - for any of us - to learn. I want you to work closely with Josh and Kevin," I added, referring to our # 1 and 2 starters, "and have them show you how to control the game. You've shown us you can throw. Now you need to practice managing the infield and executing strategy."

"Right." He swallowed what I had to say without further comment, though I could see it didn't agree with him. He went to the bullpen for some water.
*******

"No, no! Not like that!" I hurried across the diamond as Rob Gayle snatched the bat from his own hitting instructor. "For a power swing you want to hold it like this!" He gripped the bat low. "Remember it's not just your arms - are you listening Baucom?"

"Yes, sir," said the unhappy first baseman.

"It's your hips. It's your legs. It's your entire body. Now back up everyone!" He pointed the bat at a pitcher I didn't recognize - one of the AAAers no doubt. "Let me have it!"

Curve ball, low and away. Gayle stepped forward, cursing viciously, and swung. The ball shot away; forty years ago it might well have been out of the park. As it was he hit a towering fly ball to right. Not bad for a man in his sixties ... not bad at all.

"F-ing sliced it!" Gayle swore. He huffed a few times and pain shot across his face. He mastered himself though, and tossed the bat back to his hitting coach. "I want action, mister! Home runs! Let's give the outfielders something to do. Do you think you can do that for me?"

The coach nodded dumbly. He gripped his side and stormed towards me. "C'mon, Peacock. Let's cut this roster down to size!"

"Are you o...?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped. He glared back at the hitting instructor. "Nitwits. I'm surrounded by f-ing nitwits!"

[ragecage]

Any chance we can see that 1 lone HOFer for the Browns...I mean Blues. :D

[oriole^]

Looking good so far!

[OldYankFan]

IMO You write better than any of us.

[CatKnight]

ragecage: Almost certainly!

oriole: Thank you!

OldYankFan: I don't think that's true, but very kind of you :)
*******

March 1954


It's worth noting at this point that the Continental Baseball Association isn't known for its loyalty to players.

During Spring Training alone there were six trades involving thirty-eight players and eight teams. Of the seventy-three players eligible for new contracts at the end of last season, forty were let go...and most of those simply found new clubs to play for during the off season.

The CBA is a league, therefore, where having your contract renewed is a supreme act of faith and where players almost never play for a single club during their career. It's completely unlike the real world where, barring personal or corporate failure, one can expect to take a job at twenty and work with them until retirement. It breeds ruthless pragmatism, a sense of self-interest and selfishness that really does baseball no credit. There are very few personality cults in baseball: Fans tend to latch onto the home team, regardless of who wears their uniform, and follow them throughout their lives.

Unless the team moves, of course. Then all bets are off.
*******

This is worth mentioning because on the 25th day of March I found myself in the position of mediator between two men who had both proven their loyalty to their club despite this trend, and yet obviously couldn't stand each other. As assistant GM I couldn't afford to annoy Ed Hasley too badly. I'd already crossed his hawse once and only now, after four months, did he show signs of thawing. As bench coach I didn't want to anger Rob Gayle either. He could easily make my life miserable.

"For the third time, we don't need three f-ing catchers!" Gayle shouted, pounding the table for emphasis. His tumbler shook, the pale brown liquid rippling. "Catcher. First base. Two infielders. Two outfielders. Now you want to hobble me with...who was it, Peacock?"

"Daff. Henry Daff." Henry was twenty-three and spent last year at AA. Though he performed well enough, he probably didn't belong there let alone in the Majors.

"Yeah, Daff. Good arm. Bad fielder. No power. He doesn't have what it takes and I doubt he ever will."

"Precisely, sir." Hasley folded his hands. "You tell me nothing I do not know."

"You purposely want to saddle me with someone you know perfectly well isn't ready!?"

"Mr. Gayle, as you say his two years in the minors have not benefited him. Rather than give up, however, I would like to see how well he does with the proper tutelage. While you and Mr. Pennington here coach him in the basics, he can learn specifics from more experienced catchers..."

"I don't have time to babysit!" Gayle snapped.

"Nonetheless...."

"Peacock! Tell him!"

I cleared my throat. Everyone actually agreed on thirteen of the fourteen fielders, which was more than I had dared hope for. "Well, Mr. Hasley. We were looking at keeping Jim Higdon on the roster." In his first year with the Blues last season he batted .308 in 133 at bats.

"Higdon?" Hasley's eyes narrowed as he recalled the name. "Isn't his contract up this year?"

"Yes..."

"If we use him in New Orleans, will he not demand more money? Mr. Himes has been generous these last two seasons, sir, but it really cannot last."

"Then we don't re-sign him. He's a good option at third base, and if we really need a third catcher than Higdon has experience."

Gayle looked at me with something resembling respect. He'd forgotten that last part.

Hasley's eyes stayed narrow as they regarded me. Then he seemed to shrug. "Very well, Mr. Pennington. It will be as you say for the moment."
*******

"Are you kidding me?" Gayle asked less than an hour later. "What do you want to do with Gyle?"

"Mr. Gyle," Hasley said, referring to our rookie pitcher who I thought could be in the rotation by the end of the year, "can develop at AAA-Birmingham."

"I don't need him in Birmingham, I need him with me!"

"You can have Mike King in his place."

"King?" It was hard to argue with the choice. Though he didn't do well in Spring Training, the thirty-five year old had won at least 9 games with New Orleans each of the last nine seasons. Still... "Gyle's better. King's starting to lose his stuff."

"But he hasn't yet, Mr. Gayle, and that's where we differ. Mr. King has two years left on his contract and I believe he's at the point where fans recognize his name and come to see what he can do.

"C'mon, Hasley. Even in his prime he wasn't that good. I don't know why you've kept him so long, but..."

"Enough. I let you have your way with Mr. Higdon. Mike King stays."

"Peacock!?"

I grit my teeth. Something in Hasley's eyes told me I'd lose this one. Still... "If you want Mike on the team, that's fine. Still, I think Sean deserves a chance as well. How about we keep him and send Brown down?" Burt Brown was Hasley's other choice for our roster that we disagreed with.

"Brown stays," Ed answered flatly.

"Because...?"

"Mr. Pennington, you are a good fellow but I fear you don't understand everything about being a general manager quite yet. For your eludication, however.....Mr. Gayle? Would you excuse us? This doesn't concern you."

Gayle glared at both of us. "I'll be outside wondering what the hell to do with my rotation."

Hasley watched him leave. He reached across, seized Rob's drink and sniffed it. He made a face and carefully put it down. "For your eludication," he told the glass, "I would advise you against letting Mr. Gayle lead you astray."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there is more to a man's potential than what one may see in a few spring training games." Hasley looked up and met my gaze. "There is even more to him than raw statistics. That is where we differ, I fear, and where we must focus your training."

I bit. "What else is there then?"

"His character, for one. In the case we're discussing, Brown has spent eleven years in the Majors, not including one year lost fighting in Germany. He has a veteran's knowledge and experience, something Mr. Pyle cannot match. He's always done whatever any club has asked of him. Do not let his win/loss record fool you. Acting from the bullpen, as he's done off and on for several years, he will do very well."

[CatKnight]

NEW ORLEANS BLUES
Opening Day Roster - Batters
April 2, 1954
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/NewOrleansBlues.png

CATCHER

Lee Bevilacqua (82) [31] (.290 8-73 with Kansas City; All Star, All Star MVP, Gold Glove)
Acquired: 10/53 Trade with Kansas City
Contract: $32,500 through 1956
Debut: 1945 Brooklyn Bombers (1x All Star, 1x Gold Glove)

Bevilacqua was acquired by Ed Hasley before I arrived. A very solid performer who did well for KC last year, he projects to be our starter.

Seth D'Anorade (80) [35] (.322 0-43)
Acquired: 4/48 Trade with Washington
Contract: $23,300 through 1955
Debut: 1942 New York Titans (3x All Star)

D'Anorade was our starting catcher last year. He had a very good season last year, but at age 35 he'll probably slip soon.

FIRST BASE

Dan Baucom (74/91) [23] (.319 4-76)
Acquired: 6/50 Amateur Draft (Round 2)
Contract: $3,500 through 1954 (Arb)
Debut: 1951 New Orleans Blues

Dan Baucom has enormous potential and was our starting first baseman for much of last year. He's still developing. With the proper guidance, we hope he turns into a superstar.

Matthew Bennett (82) [29] (.258 0-29)
Acquired: 10/52 Free Agent
Contract: $39,600 through 1957
Debut: 1947 Chicago Stars (2x Liberty Cup)

Bennett platooned with Baucom for much of last year. He offers a veteran presence that Dan lacks and will certainly step in if the younger man stumbles.

INFIELD

Chuck Clark (81) [34] (.321 2-69; Gold Glove)
Acquired: 5/52 Trade with St. Louis
Contract: $32,200 through 1955
Debut: 1941 Cleveland Green Socks (1x All Star, 1x Gold Glove)

Clark was a very solid second baseman last year earning his first Gold Glove.

Will Thirlwell (70) [28] (.243 2-58 with Milwaukee)
Acquired: 12/53 Free Agent
Contract: $6,000 through 1954
Debut: 1947 Washington Federals

My first free agent signing: I thought he'd give us depth on the bench, but Gayle thinks he has the experience and skills to start for us.

Jeff Dobry (82) [24] (.347 2-24 with Philadelphia)
Acquired: 11/53 Trade with Philadelphia
Contract: $3,500 through 1954 (Arb)
Debut: 1950 Philadelphia Eagles

And this was my first trade: Dobry strengthens us at this position immeasurably. If he performs as well as last year we should do well.

James Higdon (76) [32] (.308 0-15)
Acquired: 8/53 Free Agent
Contract: $4,200 through 1954
Debut: 1944 Kansas City Rustlers (1x All Star, 2x Gold Glove)

I expected Higdon to be our starting third baseman. He did well enough in limited appearances (135 AB) last year

Tom Simmons (77) [26] (.306 2-52)
Acquired: 10/52 Free Agent
Contract: $9,400 through 1955
Debut: 1946 New York Kings

Unremarkable but solid, Simmons is our backup for the middle infield.

OUTFIELD

Scott Presson (83/85) [26] (DNP - Korea)
Acquired: 6/47 Amateur Draft (3rd Round)
Contract: $3,500 through 1956 (Arb)
Debut: 1950 New Orleans Blues

Presson was just coming into his own when called upon to serve his country. After two years away from baseball he's back, having apparently lost little (but time) while away.

Bill Sawyer (75) [34] (.242 0-39; AL SB Leader (51))
Acquired: 10/51 Free Agent
Contract: $20,800 through 1955
Debut: 1942 Chicago Whalers

A three time stolen base leader, but Sawyer lacks at the plate he makes up for on the base paths.

Rich Mick (77) [28] (.285 8-83; Gold Glove)
Acquired: 10/48 Trade with Kansas City
Contract: $3,500 through 1954 (Arb)
Debut: 1949 New Orleans Blues (1x Gold Glove)

A late bloomer who also lost a year (1951) in Korea, Mick offers good contact and excellent defense.

Royce Anderson (76/80) [26] (.256 11-64 with Kansas City)
Acquired: 10/53 Trade with Kansas City
Contract: $25,200 through 1956
Debut: 1947 Kansas City Rustlers

Acquired at the same time as Bevilacqua, Anderson projects to be one of our starting outfielders going forward. He prefers left field, however, which is Presson's spot. He also offers us the CBA's excuse for power.

Alan Hobby (74) [29] (.298 10-86; All Star)
Acquired: 10/51 Free Agent
Contract: $59,000 through 1954
Debut: 1948 Washington Federals (Rookie of Year, 1x Gold Glove, 1x All Star)

The 1949 RoY peaked early and has dropped off sharply, though Gayle approves of his power. He needs another remarkable season like last year to stay with the club at anything remotely resembling his current salary.

[CatKnight]

NEW ORLEANS BLUES
Opening Day Roster - Pitchers
April 2, 1954
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/NewOrleansBlues.png

STARTERS

Josh Sutton (85) [27] (12-11 3.11)
Acquired: 6/46 Amateur Draft (2nd Round)
Contract: $48,600 through 1956
Debut: 1948 New Orleans Blues

Our staff ace had his best season ever last year. Let's hope he can do it again.

Kevin Martell (85/89) [27] (13-10 3.83)
Acquired: 6/46 Amateur Draft (1st Round)
Contract: $3,500 through 1955 (Arb)
Debut: 1951 New Orleans Blues

After several years development Martell broke through last year and did remarkably well. He and Sutton should make a potential 1-2 combination for the forseeable future.

Mike King (74) [35] (11-13 3.71)
Acquired: 12/44 Trade with St. Louis
Contract: $31,100 through 1955
Debut: 1944 St. Louis Redbirds (1x All Star)
* TEAM CAPTAIN (10)*

King wouldn't have been my choice for being on the roster, but there he is. At age thirty-five he's still a solid performer but can only go downhill from here. A close friend of catcher D'Anorade's.

Damien Trails (83) [32] (4-8 5.27)
Acquired: 10/52 Free Agent
Contract: $40,300 through 1955
Debut: 1942 Boston Pilgrims

Trail's peaked, and so far it hasn't been very good. Surrounded by the right people we're hoping he'll have a good year.

Torben Widdop (82) [33] (7-9 4.35)
Acquired: 10/48 Free Agent
Contract: $17,600 through 1955
Debut: 1945 Washington Federals

Widdop's a tough guy. You have to be with a name like that, I suppose. He's not happy as the #5 starter - but at least he's a starter. Relievers tend to be maligned in the CBA.

RELIEVERS

Chris Botting (81) [36] (4-3 5.17 5 SV)
Acquired: 10/52 Free Agent
Contract: $19,700 through 1954
Debut: 1941 Washington Federals

After debuting in 1941 he wouldn't see the Majors again for six years. Botting is adequate for his 80 innings or so a year, but hasn't started a game since 1950.

Palmer Wilson (81) [33] (7-6 5.05 with NY Kings)
Acquired: 11/53 Free Agent
Contract: $29,000 through 1956
Debut: 1944 Philadelphia Eagles (1x Liberty Cup)

Signed to add another solid pitcher to the bullpen (we have plenty who are merely adequate), Wilson's looking to rebound his career. Pitching .500 ball for the Kings suggests he can do a little better for us.

Lucas Rovai (84/86) [25] (DNP - Korea)
Acquired: 6/50 Amateur Draft (1st Round)
Contract: $3,500 through 1955 (Arb)
Debut: 1951 New Orleans Blues

At one point it looked like Rovai might be one of our starters this year. Perhaps he's not quite ready for that, but his future is bright. He could easily end up being at the top of the rotation with Sutton and Martell in the not so distant future.

Luke Yastrzemski (81/82) [24] (1-3 4.85 1 SV)
Acquired: 6/47 Amateur Draft (1st Round)
Contract: $3,500 through 1954 (Arb)
Debut: 1949 New Orleans Blues (1x All Star)

What kind of name is Yastrzemski anyway? 'Yaz' has made a tolerable career for himself as a reliever - not that hard.

Burt Brown (79) [33][b] (3-8 4.15 3 SV)
Acquired: 2/53 Trade with Milwaukee
Contract: $22,600 through 1956
Debut: 1942 New York Kings

Like King, I wouldn't have necessarily chosen to bring Brown with us to New Orleans. He's been perfecting an obnoxious lobbing slow-pitch that makes it more like he's playing catch than baseball. (Eephus) It works though.

[b]Mike Hanley (83/85) [23] (DNP - Korea)
Acquired: 6/51 Amateur Draft (2nd Round)
Contract: $3,500 through 1956 (Arb)
Debut: 1951 New Orleans Blues

In his two years' professional experience he's pitched 10 innings in New Orleans. Last year he fought in Korea. A true unknown with strong potential.

[CatKnight]

SPORTS JOURNAL WEEKLY
American League Preview

Last week we looked at the National League. This week we'll take a look at the Americans, where the Liberty Cup champion Stars look to return for a third consecutive title.

Unlike the National League, we don't expect much drama out of the American League this year. The two-time defending champion Chicago Stars will slip back towards the middle of the pack to be superseded by Philadelphia and a very surprising Boston squad. Our editors give the nod to the Eagles, who will return to the Liberty Cup for the first time since 1951.

After the usual mass of teams at the middle, we expect the Cincinnati Bulldogs to collapse, falling to seventh place. Only the New York Kings should do worse: Only three seasons ago they finished in second place with a 79-75 record. This year they might earn 100 losses.

PHILADELPHIA EAGLES
Last Year: 79-75 (Third Place)
Prediction: 99-55 (First Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/PHI1954.png

BOSTON PILGRIMS
Last Year: 61-93 (Eighth Place)
Prediction: 90-64 (Second Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/BOS1954.png

CHICAGO STARS
Last Year: 103-51 (Liberty Cup Champions)
Prediction: 79-75 (Third Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/CHS1954.png

NEW ORLEANS BLUES
Last Year: 74-80 (Fifth Place)
Prediction: 77-77 (Fourth Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/NO1954.png

MILWAUKEE BREWERS
Last Year: 75-79 (Fourth Place)
Prediction: 76-78 (Fifth Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/MIL1954.png

ST. LOUIS REDBIRDS
Last Year: 63-91 (Seventh Place)
Prediction: 72-82 (Sixth Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/STL1954.png

CINCINNATI BULLDOGS
Last Year: 97-57 (Second Place)
Prediction: 71-83 (Seventh Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/CIN1954.png

NEW YORK KINGS
Last Year: 64-90 (Sixth Place)
Prediction: 52-102 (Eighth Place)
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Preseason/NYK1954.png


**********************

National League Review:


Last Year Prediction
1. Cleveland 93-61 1. Cleveland 83-71
2. Chicago 83-71 2. Brooklyn 82-72
3. Washington 81-73 3. Washington 81-73
4. Brooklyn 77-77 4. Kansas City 78-76
5. Buffalo 76-78 4. Buffalo 78-76
6. Baltimore 75-79 6. Baltimore 75-79
7. Kansas City 71-83 7. New York 70-84
8. New York 60-94 8. Chicago 69-85

[PotatoOfCouch13]

Boston moving from 8th place to 2nd? Who did they have to bribe to get that slot?

[CatKnight]

COMMENTS:

And this is my save file through April 1 in case anyone's interested.

As you can see, this league is behaving very strangely by BM standards. I suspect it's a mixture of the suspected issues with fictional player creation and setting the career upside to -20%.

There are very few 90+ players. Unlike in most BM leagues, these truly are your superstars. Off the top of my head I think there are about fifteen league wide. It is entirely possible for someone with a 70-75 OVR to start and be competent, if not outstanding. I like this, as this is how I tend to think of a percentile system - 75 to me is a 'C' - fair, but not that bad.

The side effect, however, is this seems to have narrowed the level of talent in the Majors. Since so many more players are now capable of at least holding their own at a Major League level, the AI seems much more willing to flip between players, trade people away, release and sign them and so forth. I have my league settings set so that normally we wouldn't see much player movement from year to year. In this league the AI is very, very active.

Over the 53 simmed years (1901-53) I made no attempt to rebalance the league or otherwise keep it equitable. As you've seen, though there have been some somewhat obnoxious dynasties, we're still not seeing anything game breaking. So far the AI's managed to rebuild the weak teams (given enough time). Each league does have its list of haves and have nots, but that's true even in modern ball.

Enjoy!

[OldYankFan]

3rd Base looks like a weak position around the league, you could move one of your third sackers and cash in!

[ragecage]

Amazing how there is only 2 pitchers in the HOF.

[CatKnight]

Old Yank Fan: Yep. Or I have plenty of pitchers to spare. Then again, so does everyone else. Every time I try to play with the draft settings I only seem to make it worse. :(

ragecage: Very crazy. It doesn't help that the league's used a 5 man rotation since day 1 - a side effect, I assume, of using fictional players. Very annoying, as personally I always preferred the 4 man rotations... but I won't change New Orleans over. Obviously 5-man has been the custom for fifty years in this world and it's unlikely anyone's going to even think of changing now.
*******

April 2, 1954
Soldiers Field, Chicago*

Soldiers Field was one of the oldest stadiums in the Continental Baseball Association. Constructed in 1891 to serve the Terriers of what was then the Union League, it received a major renovation in 1940 when the Detroit Wolverines moved to Chicago. It's a uniformly grey stadium, with unpainted concrete and steel dominating, In front of Gate A is a grey-black statue of the Marines at Iwo Jima and a list of those Chicago soldiers who never made it home from Germany or Japan.

As grim and foreboding as the outside is, Stars ownership makes up for it within. Brightly colored blue and red seats, each section a separate color so the seating bowl appears to be striped, ring the field from short right to short left. Dull green wood bleachers, the last remnant of the original stadium, sit beyond right field.

Oh, and the entire stadium was packed. Soldiers Field can house forty thousand, and almost every single seat was filled. The rest, and more besides, milled in the corridors and open areas cheering as first the Blues, then the home town Chicago Stars were introduced.

I stood next to Rob Gayle and the rest of the Blues along the third baseline as representatives of the Armed Forces carried military banners onto the field, flanking a flushed, chubby Boy Scout who looked like he might burst with pride as he held the Stars and Stripes at arms length like a holy talisman. The roar of the crowd was background noise. The flashes of a hundred cameras lining the first and third baselines were nothing but pinpricks on the periphery of my vision. I was here. In the Majors. Surrounded by a small city's worth of fans. From now on, everything counted. From now on, my life was forever changed. With the very first pitch I would forever earn a place in the Baseball Register.

A blond haired actress joined the menagerie of flags near home plate. I didn't know much about her - a Broadway performer about to make her first film. She was perhaps thirty, slim, beautiful...and married. More than one player glanced her way, saw the ring on her hand, and sighed audibly.

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/evamariesaint54.png
Eva Marie Saint in 1954

"Stop staring," hissed Gayle. "It's just a woman for Christ's sake!"

He hissed again several minutes later when Chicago's reverential homage to America was replaced by an equally devout homage to their fifth pennant. Eight flagpoles ringed the outfield: Two held the American and Illinois banners, and now five of six held pennants as well flapping in the fierce breeze coming off Lake Michigan. Four of these were blue, signifying they'd also won the Liberty Cup that year.

"Are you alright?" I asked the clearly stricken manager.

"Shut it, Peacock." In all his years at New Orleans he hadn't been able to bring home a single flag, and if the Sports Journal was to be believed this year didn't look so promising either. The elaborate display, ending with the Stars manager ritualistically returning the Liberty Cup to Commissioner Kahn before the jubilant crowd, seemed to diminish him.
*******

Nor did he recover by game time. The umpires and Chicago manager met at home plate to discuss house rules and lineups, and Gayle showed no sign of moving whatsoever. He stared into space and occasionally sipped at a cup of water. Players cast him puzzled frowns. Finally the umpire crew chief, having waited as long as he decently could, glared in our direction.

"Rob?" I whispered, nudging him.

He wordlessly turned over his lineup card and kept drinking.

Al..right.... I stepped onto the field to the collective jeers and howls of the city of Chicago. Normally a rough, even hostile crowd, they appeared to be in a good mood as a whole and took our delay in stride. Still, the lights, sounds, and general sense of the importance of this occasion - my first time on a Major League field - left me dazzled and I ended up handing both copies of our lineup to the umpire.

He frowned at me, ripped off Chicago's copy and completed the transfer.

"Name's Simmons," said their manager. Tobacco stained his lips and it was obvious he'd shoved a wad aside with his tongue for the conversation. A short man, probably Rob's age, fat and nearly bald. He wore the plain white Stars uniform with black lettering, as opposed to the blue pinstripes favored in New Orleans.

"Pennington." I shook his hand. "Ty Pennington."

Simmons grinned. The tobacco made me wish he hadn't. "Welcome to the bigs, kid! Long may you stay."

"Thank you."

"Gentlemen?" growled the chief umpire. The game should have started two minutes ago.

"Yeah." He released my hand, then slapped me on the upper arm. "Ty, give Rob my best. I like him." He cast a curious glance at our dugout, then returned to his men.

The ump didn't give me time to digest this. "PLAY BALL!"

*********
*- No, this isn't meant to be the same Soldier Field used by the IRL NFL Chicago Bears

[Coach Owens]

I didn't even notice that you had a new dynasty, Cat! Good to see you back on the saddle! :)

[CatKnight]

Coach Owens: Was wondering where you were hiding. Welcome!
*******

April 2, 1954

Tony Crossman, the 1953 Pitcher MVP for the American League, took the mound for the Stars. He threw easily, almost lobbing it to the catcher as he warmed up. I'd studied our scouting report on him earlier that morning - thirty years old, entering his sixth year in the Show, all with Chicago. Last year he went 20-7 with a 2.68 ERA and sixteen complete games. Crossman favored his knuckler as his fastball was neither here nor there. He'd worked on his curve during the offseason, and scouts around the league would be watching to see what he'd done with it.

Bill Sawyer, our speedy center fielder, went through the motions of warming up by swinging a weighted bat around. "Just go for it, right Coach?" he asked Gayle. Our manager simply looked at him.

"Coach?" No answer.

"Sawyer!" snarled the exasperated umpire. "Get up here or I'll start without you!"

"What do you want me to do?" hissed Sawyer.

Rob Gayle finally snapped out of his reverie and glared back. "Hit the damn thing!"

As he showed little interest in doing so, I ended up on the top step flashing signals to batters and defenders alike. I kept trying to tell myself this was just like the Southern League where I'd cut my teeth as a manager. Certainly we followed the same rules in both leagues, though the CBA relied more on speed and less on power. Every so often I glanced behind me to see if Rob would take back the reins, but he seemed content to watch like a hawk. A silent, hungry hawk.

Fortunately(?) the top of the first took no managerial skill whatsoever: Three up, three down, and so Josh Sutton took the field. Our boy was entering his seventh season, all in New Orleans. Sutton's fastball wasn't worth talking about - some of our outfielders could take him on in that category. He earned his 12-11 record last year on a changeup that constantly baffled batters and a tolerable curve. He allowed two hits, putting runners on first and third with two outs, but tricked Chicago LF Trevor Miller with a slow changeup that he swung at before it was half way to the plate. 0-0 through one.

We finally put two runners on with two outs in the second, but Will Thirlwell popped out to end the inning. Similarly they picked up another single, but stranded the runner at second.

In the third I finally made my first move as a manager, having Jeff Dobry steal second with two outs. Dan Baucom flew to center to retire the side, however. Chicago's Nijel Freeman walked, but was caught stealing second. Through three we remained tied.

In the fourth we finally broke through thanks partially to an error by catcher Doug Reser. This put Presson on first, and thanks to giving him the green light to run aggressively he scored a few minutes later on Chuck Clark's single. Rich Mick singled to put two on, and more aggressive running on Will Thirlwell's single made it 2-0. Our luck ran out as Thirlwell tried to steal second and failed. Sutton flied out. In the bottom half Chicago again picked up one runner, and again wasted him trying to steal second. Blues 2-0

"Bevilacqua has a rifle for an arm," I told Gayle. He'd gripped the bench on either side, fists digging in, but remained silent. Was he pleased we were winning? Annoyed we were winning without him? "Rob? Are you ready to take over?"

"Do your job, Peacock," he hissed.

So to the fifth inning, which went by so quickly you might blink and miss it. Chuck Clark singled with one out in the sixth, advanced on a groundout, and scored when Thirlwell popped a line drive over the first baseman's head. When Thirlwell went to third on a hit by our pitcher, Chicago decided they'd seen enough. Simmons came out slowly, still chewing his tobacco and spitting on the infield for effect. Tony Crossman, the 1953 AL Pitcher of the Year, left with head bowed to the jeers of his own fans.

Eric Jones (10-2 3.98 5 CG 4 SV) took over for the home team, and Sawyer dutifully grounded to third to retire the side. Blues 3-0

Perhaps Josh Sutton grew nervous. I wanted to think so at the time, but I think I knew better. A few of Crossman's pitches last inning were a little too far inside if you get my meaning, and now Josh took his revenge. No one thought much of it when he tapped Murray Sullivan with a changeup. When the very next pitch drilled (at 83 mph) Nijel Freeman in the arm, fans booed loudly.

Freeman certainly didn't think much of it. He pointed at the mound with his bat. Sutton tapped his chest with both hands - a dare the South African was unlikely to ignore. He started towards the mound. I started towards the mound. Bevilacqua grabbed him, and after a few sharp words Nijel stalked to first base.

"What's going on?" I asked when I made it to Josh.

"Nothing. Just lost control," Sutton scowled.

"Are you getting tired?"

"In the sixth inning? Hell no."

Bevilacqua joined us. "Ump says if another of 'em gets hit, you're out."

"If another of them gets hit, you'll be in the clubhouse before the ump gets here." I understand the need for intimidation. I even understand retaliation. Isn't the point to win games here? The tying run was at the plate now for God's sake.

I signaled for the corners to play in, which is just as well as Marc Olson grounded to third and forced the runner at second. One out, runners at the corners, and Kurt Warburton hit a short bunt in front of first that turned into a single...and a run. Blues 3-1

"Get on the phone," Gayle growled at me.

I nodded agreement. "Who should we warm up?"

"Doesn't matter. That's not the point. If he thinks you're getting ready to pull him, Sutton will bear down."

So I picked up the receiver and had a chat with the dial tone. Sutton glared in my direction and slammed the ball into his glove.

"This should be interesting," Rob muttered.

Strike. Strike. Ball. Then Trevor Miller chopped a grounder to short. Dobry flipped it to second for one, and over to first for the double play. Through six we led 3-1.

The seventh went quietly, though Chicago's Brian Tennen offered some excitement when he tried to extend a double into a triple, and was thrown out at third thanks to a rifle throw from Sawyer in center. We went down in order in the eighth.

Sullivan doubled with one out in the Stars' eighth, then Freeman reached when Josh charged a groundball and bobbled it.

"He's getting tired," Gayle said from behind me.

I could tell. His throws were just an inch off the mark, and that error was simply clumsy. This time I got on the phone for real, then walked to the mound.

"I'm fine," Josh snapped as I crossed the third base line.

"Your changeup isn't breaking. Your fastball's in the 70s."

"They just got lucky," he replied. "One double play and it's inning over."

"No, we got lucky last inning when Sawyer threw out Tennen. What do you think?" This to Lee Bevilacqua as he trotted to us.

This was Bevilacqua's tenth year and fourth team. He knew pitchers and shook his head. "Josh, it's time to let someone else finish this."

"I've given up one run!" he snapped. "Give me a chance!"

Against my better judgement I did. Marc Olson hit a Texas Leaguer to short right. 3-2, runners on first and second, one out. This time I yanked him.

In came Lucas Rovai, one of my veterans who'd lost playing time to the Koreans and resented it. There wasn't much he could do about Warburton's sacrifice bunt moving both runners into scoring position, but when his hard curve simply didn't break, whipped past the umpire's head and went to the backstop to score Freeman I began to wonder. "Wrong pitcher?" I asked Gayle. He shrugged. Tied 3-3

Lucas did get out of the inning. We failed to score in the ninth, so we tried our luck with Palmer Wilson. I'd picked up Wilson from free agency and Gayle agreed that he was one of the better men in our bullpen. The thirty-three year old allowed one walk, but escaped the ninth with minimal damage.

On to the tenth where Brian Pitts (0-1 3.60 in 1953) took over for Chicago. After earning his first out he faced Scott Presson.

The angry outfielder glared at Pitts, intimidating him by smashing the bat on the plate and pointing at him. It worked, for Pitts lobbed a screwball that didn't move in the slightest, and in this low-powered league Presson sent a thunderbolt over right to hit the wooden bleachers with an audible bang. Blues 4-3

This didn't do much for Pitts' composure, for Bevilacqua then walked and went to third on Clark's fourth single of the night. He managed t get the last two outs however, and Wilson took over for the bottom of the tenth.

Before the very first pitch I walked to the mound. Lee started to get up, but I waved him away.

"Are you up to closing?" I asked Palmer quietly.

He snorted. "I'm used to starting, Skip. Two innings of work isn't going to tire me out."

I hoped not - and as it turned out I was right. Three up. Three down. Ballgame.


New Orleans Blues 4, Chicago Stars 3 (10)
WP: Palmer Wilson (1-0), LP: Brian Pitts (0-1), HR: (NWO) Scott Presson (1)

[gosensgo101]

It looks like 'Peacock' is going to be pulling the strings of a couple puppets.

Amazing start. I could picture the first couple posts like I was watching it on the big screen, same with the most recent. I look forward to more.

[CatKnight]

gosensgo101: Thanks! I'm having fun writing for this league!
*******

April 2-5 1954

After I effectively managed the season opener, Rob Gayle took back the reins of his club. He offered very little feedback on my performance only noting that the final score spoke for itself.

I like Rob, and the general consensus is that the players think he's a good manager. It bothered me to see him so obviously upset by the Stars raising their championship pennant, but so far every time I've brought the subject up he's done everything but overtly tell me to mind my own business.

New Orleans at Chicago

April 2, 1954

In my managerial debut, the Stars tie it in the eighth but we win on Scott Presson's tenth inning homer. Chuck Clark went 4 for 5 with an RBI to help lead the charge as off season acquisition Palmer Wilson gets the win.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 2 0 1 0 0 0 1 4 12 2
Stars (CHS) 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 2 0 0 3 8 2


Starters: J. Sutton (7.1 IP, 8 H, 2 ER, 1 BB, 3 K) vs. T. Crossman (5.2 IP, 9 H, 2 ER, 1 BB, 1 K)
WP: P. Wilson (1-0) - 2.0 IP, 0 H, 0 ER, 1 BB, 1 K
LP: B. Pitts (0-1) - 1.0 IP, 2 H, 1 ER, 1 BB, 1 K
HR: S. Presson (1)
Stars: C. Clark (4-5, 2 R, 1 RBI, 0 SB)


April 3, 1954

Thirty-five year old Tod Hoefer holds us to three hits (two by C Lee Bevilacqua) as our Kevin Martell tires in the seventh. Derek Wedgeworth's three run homer in that inning crushes us and ties the series.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 1
Stars (CHS) 1 1 0 0 0 0 3 0 x 5 11 2


Starters: K. Martell vs. T. Hoefer
WP: T. Hoefer (1-0) - 9.0 IP, 3 H, 0 ER, 4 BB, 1 K
LP: K. Martell (0-1) - 6.2 IP, 8 H, 5 ER, 2 BB, 0 K
HR: D. Wedgeworth (1)

April 4, 1954

Chicago, led by Casey Forster, shuts us out for the second straight day as this time Dobry and Baucom earn two hits a piece. Mike King, who I thought was no longer good enough for the Majors, performs respectably, but we need to find out where our offense is hiding.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 6 1
Stars (CHS) 0 0 0 1 0 1 1 1 x 4 10 0


Starters: M. King vs. C. Forster
WP: C. Forster (1-0) - 9.0 IP, 6 H, 0 ER, 2 BB, 1 K
LP: M. King (0-1) - 7.0 IP, 8 H, 3 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
HR: None

*******

April 5, 1954
House of Blues, New Orleans

During our season opener against Chicago, a brutal, angry storm smashed into the Mexican west coast southwest of Guadalajara. If not for the time of year and a crucial failure at basic organization it might have qualified as a hurricane as palm trees swayed, roofs cracked and telephone poles fell before the onslaught.

Deciding it liked the cuisine, said storm drifted inland and was lucky enough to find the pass through the Rockies at San Luis Potosi. Winded, but by no means out, it emerged as a series of thunderheads that dropped rain and lightning on Tampico before regaining strength in the Gulf of Mexico.

From there it shifted course slightly to accomodate local current and wind patterns, bypassing the fetid swampland of eastern Texas entirely, and so coming upon the fetid swampland of western Louisiana instead some fifty miles west of New Orleans. Like most with a choice in the matter the storm veered north in an effort to leave this area as quickly as possible, but not before dropping several inches of rain on Baton Rouge in petty vengeance.

"It will clear up by game time," said the wizened, older man by my side. "It always does you know."

Spitting showers with occasional lightning moved in towards daybreak, and I sat in the 'House of Heroes' watching groundskeepers fight to keep the field playable. The tarp occasionally fluttered and undulated with the musty smelling wind but always gave up its attempt at flight under the stern eye of Mr. Bennett.

Bennett was our head groundskeeper, a beefy ex-Marine who found his calling in killing weeds rather than people. He treated his 'team' like a platoon, barking orders like a drill sergeant at his half-drowned, weary men. I listened to his deep pitched, staccato invectives and turned my attention to my host.

With the local culture's focus on spirituality and death, the 'House of Heroes' was a natural addition to the stadium. It consisted of nine seats in the mezzanine behind home plate and an accompanying suite behind it. The only people authorized to sit here were Hall of Famers who'd had their number retired by New Orleans. From here they could enjoy their lifetime pass to games and, so the theory went, their benevolent spirits would watch over the team from here after they'd passed as well. It struck me as somewhat maudalin and creepy, but it made sense to the designers in 1934.

Our sole 'hero,' Zach Saunders, was in his late fifties. His lifetime batting record looked similar to Gayle's: A power hitting outfielder in an era for power was even more rare than today. Lifetime he batted .352 with 166 HR and 1440 RBI earning the 1917 Rookie of the Year, 1921 Gold Glove, and 1923 Batter MVP awards while leading the league in homers seven times and RBIs twice. He played his entire fifteen year career here in New Orleans and settled here after his career ended.

There the likeness ended: Saunders was a more gentle, introspective man, and time had stolen a little more of his vitality. He used a cane now and couldn't see closer than three feet without glasses. Still, a keen baseball mind and decent strategist hid behind the aging shell and he'd spent the morning regalling me with stories of games gone by.

"I was in Detroit in '20 when I met Evelyn," he said, referring to his wife. "Sixth inning, Adam Pemberton on the mound. My God, that man had a curve that would dance the jitterbug for you before reaching the plate - at a good ninety miles per hour. They say he had no fastball, and that was true...his curve was his fastball. Evelyn was watching the day I took one of those pitches to right. Coach wanted me to stop on second, but hell no. I keep going. Throw comes in from right and beats me by about twenty feet, so I turn around. Now you're thinking I'm in a rundown, right? But I know Pete Springett a short. He had a trick knee you see, so I just kept dodging and weaving til he was the one guarding third. I then started to run around his bad side, and once he'd shifted his weight I darted around to his right. Damn me if his knee doesn't give out! Third baseman grabs the ball from his hand before he even hits the ground, then it's just a footrace to the bag. Evelyn said it was the damndest thing she ever saw."

As promised, the rain slackened off enough for Bennett and his team to gain the upper hand. The sky turned the oddest shade of yellow as the sun fought to get past the clouds. The air, hot and humid before, turned oppressive and I went inside for some ice for us both.

When I returned, Saunders sat very straight, hands on his cane, watching intently as the New York Kings began their pregame practice.

"I was there," he said with some pride. "I was there when it was just a game."

[Coach Owens]

No team in Seattle? You hobo! ;)

[CatKnight]

Coach Owens: Well, both leagues are looking to head out west. Maybe we can have a team there and call it the Pilots and...

Oh wait...
*******

Early April 1954

The House of Blues, then, on a humid, damp evening. Given its attachment for the night life, New Orleans jumped at the chance for night games and added just enough lighting to guarantee the safety of fans and players alike. This gave the House a shadowed appearance, not unlike a concert where all the attention - and lights - are focused towards the entertainers.

By virtue of luck, fate, or what have you, all eight opening series ended in 2-1 splits. In other words, in both leagues four teams were tied for first at 2-1, and four other teams were only one game back.

The sun was just setting, adding an orange hue to the sky overhead, when the umpire told us to play ball. I occupied by normal place of honor by Rob Gayle, who inhaled once, twice, then slowly stood and nodded to Sawyer. It had begun.

New York (1-2) (T-5th, -1g) at New Orleans (1-2) (T-5th, -1g)

April 5, 1954:

The Blues and Kings trade runs through the first several innings as New Orleans is plagued by repeated errors. In the top of the eighth King CF Willie Chronister hits one just over right fence into the darkness and we lose our third straight.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Kings (NYK) 0 2 0 1 1 0 0 1 0 5 10 1
Blues (NWO) 1 1 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 4 8 3

Starters: B. Trout vs. D. Trails (4.2 IP, 5 H, 4 ER, 3 BB, 3 K)
WP: B. Trout (1-0) - 8.2 IP, 8 H, 3 ER, 4 BB, 1 K[/color]
LP: C. Botting (0-1) - 1.0 IP, 2 H, 1 ER, 0 BB, 0 K)
HR: W. Chronister (1)


April 6, 1954

Just as I was beginning to really worry about Rob's ability to keep managing, Josh Sutton came up with a gem. Three hits, two walks, and our first shutout of the year. Bill Sawyer went 2 for 3 with three runs, while Lee Bevilacqua brought three home.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Kings (NYK) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 3
Blues (NWO) 1 2 0 3 0 2 0 2 x 10 11 2


Starters: P. Lent vs. J. Sutton
WP: J. Sutton (1-0) - 9.0 IP, 3 H, 0 ER, 2 BB, 2 K
LP: P. Lent (0-2) - 3.0 IP, 6 H, 5 ER, 3 BB, 3 K
HR: D. Baucom (1)


April 7, 1954

A narrower victory, for none can fault Zack Paddock's pitching performance, but today Kevin Martell was better. Our second straight shutout was won on two late inning rallies.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Kings (NYK) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 x 2 8 0


Starters: Z. Paddock vs. K. Martell
WP: K. Martell (1-1) - 9.0 IP, 2 H, 0 ER, 1 BB, 7 K
LP: Z. Paddock (0-2) - 8.0 IP, 8 H, 2 ER, 1 BB, 3 K
HR: None
*******

Our first off day let me put on my (assistant) general manager hat and report to Hasley's office. As it turned out, I found him in a jovial mood. "Fourth place, sir. Upon my word that is an improvement over last year!"

After a startled moment I said, "It's very early. I hope we can do better than that."

"Oh, indeed! Indeed! Though the competition this year will be fierce. We must take our victories where we can get them."

"As you know, we have a number of pitchers clogging our minor leagues, some of them on professional level contracts." I outlined my plan which was, simply, to trade them for who we could get. His eyes narrowed and he fiddled with his glass.

"You...spoke with other teams, have you?" he asked cooly.

"No," I replied. "Not at all. I thought it was best to get your...approval." Otherwise you'll pout again for the better part of the season.

This did indeed seem to mollify him, for he leaned back in his chair and drank. "It's very good and proper of you to make suggestions, Mr. Pennington. I will certainly pay them the kindest attention. As you say, it is very early and I, for one, think we are doing well. I'm inclined to wait awhile longer."

"Yes, sir." I said in as neutral a tone as I could manage. Granted, dumping a few pitchers wouldn't do much for our team performance, but it might buy us enough budget room to trade for a big name.

We spoke on other topics: stadium expenses, vendor contracts, and an article the paper wanted to write about Scott Presson and other veterans of the Korean War. It then deviated sharply. Very sharply.

"Do you hunt, sir?" he asked.

My eyebrows climbed. "I....I'm sorry?"

"It's a simple question, Mr. Pennington. Do you hunt?"

"Do you!?"

This seemed to amuse him. "I have been known to take a shot from time to time. I'm quite good, if I do say so myself. Perhaps we should take a turn as weather permits."

The idea of this obese man who obviously hated the heat and physical endeavors stalking the swamps and forests in the predawn was ludicrous. I had to see it. "I would like that very much, though I'll have to buy a rifle."

"Ah." He smiled and opened a drawer. After a few seconds he withdrew a card and handed it to me. "This is my man and his store. He will help, of that I am certain."
*******

Cincinnati (2-4) (T-5th, -2.5g) at New Orleans (3-3) (4th, -1.5g)


April 9, 1954

Hard fought small ball, with both teams combining for five stolen bases...and two pickoffs, five caught stealing, and several thrown outs trying to extend hits. New Orleans took the lead thanks partially to our pitcher! King singled, stole second and came home on an error to give us a 2-1 lead. It wasn't until the tenth when Presson hit a sac bunt with men on second and third that we were able to end this.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Bulldogs (CIN) 1 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 3 8 1
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 3 0 0 0 0 1 4 10 0


Starters: D. Vaughn (9.0 IP, 7 H, 1 ER, 3 BB, 0 K) vs. M. King (9.0 IP, 7 H, 3 ER, 0 BB, 0 K)
WP: C. Botting (1-1) - 1.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
LP: A. King (0-2) - 0.2 IP, 3 H, 1 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
HR: L. Bevilacqua (1)


April 10, 1954

We take a 6-4 lead into the seventh, but Trails tires and Chris Botting gives up three more runs in one inning. On our side we never really get it together, though Baucom does give us 2 RBI.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Bulldogs (CIN) 0 0 1 2 0 1 3 2 0 9 13 1
Blues (NWO) 1 0 0 1 3 1 0 0 0 6 10 0


Starters: C. Clive (4.1 IP, 7 H, 5 ER, 2 BB, 0 K) vs. D. Trails (6.0 IP, 8 H, 4 ER, 1 BB, 1 K)
WP: Z. Jenks (1-0) - 1.2 IP, 3 H, 1 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
LP: C. Botting (1-2) - 1.0 IP, 3 H, 3 ER, 3 BB, 0 K
SV: A. King (1) - 3.0 IP, 0 H, 0 ER, 2 BB, 0 K
HR: None


April 11, 1954

Josh Sutton entered today with a 1.8 ERA. He didn't keep it as the Bulldogs threw him out after less than three innings. From there on it was a vain struggle to recover - emphasis on vain, and not even Alan Hobby's first homer of the year was enough to turn the tide.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Bulldogs (CIN) 0 0 5 1 0 1 0 0 0 7 11 2
Blues (NWO) 0 0 2 0 0 1 1 0 0 4 11 1


Starters: F. Smith vs. J. Sutton
WP: F. Smith (1-0) - 5.0 IP, 8 H, 3 ER, 3 BB, 0 K
LP: J. Sutton (1-1) - 2.2 IP, 4 H, 5 ER, 4 BB, 0 K
SV: B. Van Zandt (1) - 4.0 IP, 3 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
HR: A. Hobby (1)

*******

American League
Boston (7-2)
Philadelphia (6-3) (1)
Chicago (5-4) (2)
Cincinnati (4-5) (3)
New Orleans (4-5) (3)
New York (4-5) (3)
Milwaukee (3-6) (4)
St. Louis (3-6) (4)

[CatKnight]

Mid April 1954

"Good morning, Scott. Please have a seat." I sat in the visiting manager's office at the Brewhouse, home of the Milwaukee Brewers. Rob was on the field running drills with most of the players and graciously let me use it in my role as assistant GM. "Ed Hasley asked me to have a talk with you ."

Scott Presson sat and leaned forward in his chair. "Why isn't Hasley having the talk then?" he snapped.

"Ed doesn't travel with the team. You know that."

"We were in New Orleans yesterday."

I gave a thin smile. "The interview ran today."

He had the good grace to flush, though Presson hid it well with a sneer. "What about it?"

"You made some unflattering comments about the Blues, Scott. Aren't you happy here?"

"What I said was that I thought some of the other veterans were owed their due."

Specifically, he mentioned the plight of Chris Herskovitz, our 24 year old shortstop in AAA-Birmingham. Herskovitz missed the entire 1953 season due to the war, and was sent down this year in favor of Jeff Dobry. "If you're talking about Chris, he has a very bright future ahead of him. He'll be back up sometime this year, and I have no doubt he'll be our starter again in the next year or two."

"He did well enough starting in '52," Presson said. "Face it - you don't have a good reason for leaving him down there. Oh wait, you do. The longer you can keep him in the minors, the less money he'll make."

Financially it really made no difference. It was true we might get an extra year at minimum wage for Herskovitz, but he was already up for arbitration in 1955. "The reason he's down there is to develop. Jeff's good, but he's not going to get any better. Our scouts project Chris as a superstar...in time. I want him a chance to grow into that away from the pressure of Major League baseball."

"And save yourself money."

I shook my head. "That never entered into it, Scott."

He snorted.

"Scott, I'm sorry you don't believe me. It's the truth. I need to ask you to keep your concerns between us from now on. The press doesn't need to know what's going on behind closed doors."

"You mean the press doesn't need to know you don't care about veterans. Okay, boss." He stood.

Sigh.
********

New Orleans (4-5) (T-4th, -3g) at Milwaukee (3-6) (T-7th, -4g)

April 12, 1954

The kind of hard fought battle which leaves me puzzled whether to be proud of these guys or horrified. We led 5-2 entering the bottom of the fourth, but Martell and Yastrzemski imploded on the mound. They led 8-5 entering the top of the ninth when a four run rally turned the tide yet again.


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 1 4 0 0 0 0 4 9 13 0
Brewers (MIL) 0 2 0 2 0 2 2 0 0 8 12 2


Starters: K. Martell (5.0 IP, 6 H, 4 ER, 4 BB, 1 K) vs. T. Thomas (3.2 IP, 7 H, 2 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
WP: C. Botting (2-2) - 1.2 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
LP: M. Rowe (0-1) - 2.0 IP, 4 H, 1 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
SV: L. Rovai (1) - 1.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
HR: None


April 13, 1954

In another close game, we led 2-1 entering the bottom of the eighth and Damien Trails went the distance, but sacrifice bunts in the final two frames turned the game against us. Rich Mick went 3 for 4 with a run to earn almost half our hits.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 2 7 2
Brewers (MIL) 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 1 3 8 2


Starters: D. Trails vs. J. Clay (8.0 IP, 6 H, 1 ER, 1 BB, 1 K
WP: B. Sydnor (1-0) - 1.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
LP: D. Trails (0-1) - 8.1 IP, 8 H, 3 ER, 1 BB, 2 K
HR: J. Cole (2)


April 14, 1954

Close again! Palmer Wilson leaves after 4.2 innings having squandered a 3-1 lead, but then Luke Yastrzemski makes up for his dismal performance two days earlier by pitching 3.1 scoreless innings. Presson doubles home Dan Baucom in the eighth to give us the lead and Chris Botting slams the door.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 2 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 4 5 1
Brewers (MIL) 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 0 3 7 3


Starters: P. Wilson (4.2 IP, 6 H, 3 ER, 3 BB, 3 K) vs. J. Douglas (4.0 IP, 2 H, 1 ER, 3 BB, 1 K)
WP: L. Yastrzemski (1-0) - 3.1 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 4 BB, 2 K
LP: B. Sydnor (1-1) - 4.0 IP, 3 H, 1 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
SV: C. Botting (1) - 1.0 IP, 0 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
HR: None

********

The fifteenth, Tax Day, is a day off so we pack our bags for the thirteen or fourteen hour train ride to Philadelphia. The players have two whole cars to ourselves, while Rob and I get passenger seats in a third. He's unusually quiet for the early part of the trip, sipping first at alcohol then, surprisingly, milk. Somewhere east of Toledo I decide to break the silence.

"Milk?"

"Milk's good for you, Peacock. You should try it."

"It's that I haven't seen you drink any." As for me, I'd finished my own drink and now favored a soda pop.

Gayle shrugged tiredly and stared out the window.

"How do you think the team's doing?"

"Meh. Leave me alone. Get some sleep." He absently rubbed his belly.

I frowned. Rob...not wanting to discuss baseball? I slid closer so I was facing him, only inches apart as the train rattled and shook. The window was pitch black - even if it was daylight there wouldn't be much to see in northern Ohio. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He closed his eyes, suddenly looking very....very old.

"Maybe Doc should have a look."

He jerked upright. "You leave him out of this!" he snapped.

"Out of what? What's going on?"

"None of your God damned...." His temper got the better of him. He clenched his fist around the fat of his stomach and made several choking, hiccuping sounds. He pitched forward.

"Rob!" I leapt to my feet and pounded his back. He wrapped his arms around his knees and vomited milk, whiskey, food...and a trace of red spittle. People around us whirled, attracted by the loud conversation, choking and/or smell. A conductor in a dark blue uniform, looking almost like a cop, threaded his way to us. "One car back! Get the team doctor!"

Gayle shook his head, but clearly his opinion didn't matter at this point. A few minutes later Doc Rabbone showed up. A slight man in his late forties, he shoved me aside like a tenpin and, heedless of the mess, squatted by the manager. "Is it your stomach?" he asked tersely.

He didn't answer, just shook and tried to retch again, but nothing would come.

Rabbone turned to me. "Tell the conductor he and I are getting off in Cleveland."

Passengers and a few players, attracted by the call for a doctor, crowded the scene. I nodded to Kevin Martell. "Tell him." He sprinted away as if the dogs of hell were chasing him. Back to Rabbone: "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know yet."
*******

New Orleans (6-6) (3rd-T, -2g) at Philadelphia (8-4) (1st-T, +0g)

April 16, 1954

The team is obviously badly shaken by Gayle's illness. They hold it together until the seventh when first Sutton, then Rovai turn this into a massacre. Mick goes 2 for 4 with a double and RBI in a futile effort.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 3 6 0
Eagles (PHI) 0 0 0 1 0 1 4 7 x 13 15 1


Starters: J. Sutton vs. R. Wolf
WP: R. Wolf (1-1) - 9.0 IP, 6 H, 2 ER, 2 BB, 2 K
LP: J. Sutton (1-2) - 6.1 IP, 8 H, 6 ER, 2 BB, 4 K
HR: J. Apple (1)
Stars: K. Lyons (4-5, 3 R, 4 RBI, 1 SB)


April 17, 1954

We avenge ourselves somewhat with a solid effort across the middle innings. Presson and Thirlwell both homer, and both earn two RBIs to lead the Blues past Philadelphia.

After the game, Palmer Wilson and the pitching coach reported a sore rotator cuff. We're going to have him rest tomorrow then travel back with the team so our doc can have a look.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 1 1 2 1 1 0 0 2 8 11 1
Eagles (PHI) 0 1 0 0 2 0 1 0 0 4 10 4


Starters: K. Martell vs. W. Hogg
WP: K. Martell (2-1) - 7.0 IP, 10 H, 3 ER, 1 BB, 2 K
LP: W. Hogg (2-1) - 3.0 IP, 5 H, 4 ER, 2 BB, 1 K
SV: C. Botting (2) - 2.0 IP, 0 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
HR: W. Thirlwell (1), S. Presson (2)


April 18, 1954

In the rubber match we take the lead in the eighth on a Scott Presson single, but Philly's Ed Haitly proves how dangerous he is with a three run blast. His 3 HR are more than the rest of the Eagles combined. Trails tired late, and an attempt to give Mike Hanley some pitching time backfired.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 1 0 3 6 1
Eagles (PHI) 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 3 x 5 8 2


Starters: D. Trails vs. M. Piper
WP: M. Piper (3-1) - 9.0 IP, 6 H, 3 ER, 3 BB, 4 K
LP: D. Trails (0-2) - 7.0 IP, 6 H, 3 ER, 3 BB, 2 K
HR: E. Haitly (3)

*******

American League
Philadelphia (10-5)
Boston (9-6) (1)
Chicago (9-6) (1)
New Orleans (7-8) (3)
St. Louis (7-8) (3)
New York (7-8) (3)
Milwaukee (6-9) (4)
Cincinnati (5-10) (5)

[RandyTiger]

Catknight, I very much enjoy your writing style, and this story has me engrossed. Keep up the great work, mister. :)

[CatKnight]

RandyTiger: Thanks, and welcome!
*******

Late April 1954

Whoever designed our schedule either has a sadistic streak, or doesn't understand basic geography.

Sunday's game in Philadelphia ended at about 4 pm, and we had just enough time to shower, shave, get dressed in our shirts and ties and get to the train station by 6 .. thank God for assistants clearing out our rooms and belongings for us. We rode through the gathering darkness in Maryland and Virginia, and woke up with the dawn's light somewhere around Chattanooga. We'd pull into New Orleans around 1 pm with a game scheduled for 7.

"Skip, got a minute?"

"I have several, Bennett." I nodded tiredly to our backup first baseman. Matthew Bennett played in 87 games last year. So far he'd been in two for one at bat. I imagined that was what he wanted to talk about. "And don't call me Skip. That's Rob."

"Rob's who I want to talk about." He brushed sandy hair from his eyes and looked around the car. Most of the passengers, luckier or more peaceful than I, still slept. The wealthier ones had retired to sleep cars with actual bedding. I yawned again.

"I haven't heard from the Doc since yesterday," I replied. "I'm sure he'd find a way to contact me if we had something to worry about."

Bennett nodded. "I hope so. It's just...that was blood."

"I know what it was." I sighed. "Probably just ate something funny and it irritated his...his..." I motioned towards my esophagus.

"I took two years medical in college," Bennett replied. "If the War lasted another year or two they were gonna send me to Germany as a medic. I had the papers for April '46. I don't think he just ate something funny."

"We'll know more in a few hours."
*******

As it turned out, Gayle was waiting on the ramp as we debarked. He immediately asserted control, pale and shaky but loud, ordering players to get some food and rest before practice at 5. Bennett and a few other players crowded around him like jubilant children, but he waved them off. "Get down to the cafe! I don't want to see you til then! Peacock! What the blazes have you done to my team? They're like God loving hens!"

I wasn't sure why he was guarding his language until two women in pale yellow and pink passed me on the platform. I beamed at him. "You're feeling better?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "Let's get the...out of here!"

"Gentlemen?" Doctor Rabbone materialized from the crowd of passengers and families. "I have a car waiting."

Gayle's face clouded and I turned on the doc. "How is he?"

"I said I'm fine!" Rob snapped.

Rabbone glanced at him and shrugged. When he looked at me again, I thought I saw him shake his head slightly.

"Oh! Hasley's looking for you, Peacock. I swear, that man couldn't find the bathroom without a map and a guide to hold his hand!" He laughed, then coughed several times waving both of us off.

"The car?" Rabbone asked, a little more insistently.
********

St. Louis (7-8) (4th-T, -3g) at New Orleans (7-8) (4th-T, -3g)


April 19, 1954

SP Mike King pitches a ONE HITTER and allows no walks, while we nickel and dime the visiting Redbirds to death. Jeff Dobry goes 3 for 4 with an RBI as Bill Sawyer scores two runs from the leadoff spot.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Redbirds (STL) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 1
Blues (NWO) 1 0 0 1 0 0 1 1 x 4 7 1


Starters: N. Williams vs. M. King
WP: M. King (1-1) - 9.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 3 K
LP: N. Williams (1-1) - 8.0 IP, 7 H, 4 ER, 2 BB, 3 K
HR: None


April 20, 1954

Sutton doesn't make it out of the second inning as St. Louis goes on a six run rampage. Dan Baucom's 2 run homer in the third is our only response. Torben Widdop pitches 4 innings of 2 hit relief to keep it from getting any worse.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Redbirds (STL) 0 6 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 7 11 0
Blues (NWO) 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 5 1


Starters: E. Miuccio vs. J. Sutton
WP: E. Miuccio (2-3) - 9.0 IP, 5 H, 2 ER, 5 BB, 0 K
LP: J. Sutton (1-3) - 1.2 IP, 4 H, 5 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
HR: M. Glenn (1), D. Baucom (2)


April 21, 1954

By CBA standards the 'Birds and Blues put on a home run clinic as both teams knock two out of the park. We score nine runs in the fifth inning and hold on despite a sixth inning comeback attempt. Both teams earn three errors a piece.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Redbirds (STL) 0 3 1 0 0 2 0 0 0 6 10 3
Blues (NWO) 2 2 1 1 3 0 1 0 x 10 14 3


Starters: P. Hutcheson vs. K. Martell
WP: K. Martell (3-1) - 5.2 IP, 9 H, 4 ER, 1 BB, 2 K
LP: P. Hutcheson (1-3) - 3.2 IP, 7 H, 5 ER, 3 BB, 4 K
SV: L. Rovai (2) - 3.1 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
HR: C. Miller (1), G. Elston (1), L. Bevilacqua (2), R. Mick (1)

*******

We get another Thursday off, and Rob Gayle leaves our boarding house early. I heard him quietly moving in the outer hall, cursing to himself softly but obviously trying to remain undetected. The clock on my wall read 7 AM - no one even had to be at the field for six hours. Ed Hasley wasn't "in the way" when I went to the office or to his home, but he did leave a message inviting me to dinner Sunday evening.

I crumpled the paper and frowned at our secretary. "Does Ed realize that Sunday evening I'll be on a train to St. Louis with the team?"

"He wants you to stay behind on the next road trip," she said.

"I'm the bench coach!" I snapped. "I can't just leave the team!"

"You'll need to talk to him about that."

"I would if I could find him!"

Marge smiled.

*******

Milwaukee (7-11) (7th, -6g) at New Orleans (9-9) (3rd-T, -4g)


April 23, 1954

God, the Brewers are dangerous! We plink away at each other most of the game until the bottom of the 8th, when D'Anorade hits a two-run, inside the park homer. Rich Mick goes 3 for 4. A heroic performance all in all to not give up, though the four Brewer errors helped.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Brewers (MIL) 1 1 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 4 10 4
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 3 x 5 9 1


Starters: J. Clay vs. D. Trails (7.1 IP, 9 H, 4 ER, 3 BB, 1 K)
WP: C. Botting (3-2) - 1.2 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
LP: J. Clay (0-2) - 7.1 IP, 9 H, 3 ER, 1 BB, 1 K
HR: T. Beisel (1), S. D'Anorade (1)


April 24, 1954

King once more proves Ed Hasley was right to want him in the Majors rather than AAA. He earns the complete game victory while Baucom goes 4 for 5 with a double, homer and RBI.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Brewers (MIL) 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 8 1
Blues (NWO) 3 0 1 0 4 0 0 0 x 8 14 0


Starters: J. Douglas vs. M. King
WP: M. King (2-1) - 9.0 IP, 8 H, 1 ER, 3 BB, 1 K
LP: J. Douglas (0-2) - 4.0 IP, 6 H, 6 ER, 2 BB, 2 K
HR: D. Baucom (3), S. Presson (3)
Stars: D. Baucom (4-5, 2 R, 1 RBI, 0 SB)


April 25, 1954

We complete the sweep of the Brewers with another dominant offensive performance. This time it's Jeff Dobry going 4 for 5 with a double, while Josh Sutton needs a little help from the offense to earn his second win of 1954. Once more the Brewer defense is ... sad. That makes 10 errors in the three game series, and an AL worst .946 fielding percentage on the season.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Brewers (MIL) 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 3 0 6 11 5
Blues (NWO) 0 0 1 0 2 0 5 4 x 12 19 1


Starters: S. Belsey vs. J. Sutton
WP: J. Sutton (2-3) - 7.1 IP, 10 H, 5 ER, 1 BB, 2 K
LP: S. Belsey (3-2) - 6.1 IP, 10 H, 3 ER, 0 BB, 3 K
SV: C. Botting (3) - 1.2 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
HR: J. Purcell (2), S. Presson (4)
Stars: J. Dobry (4-5, 2 R, 2 RBI, 0 SB)

[T 980]

I love it. Keep up the good work!

[SrMeowMeow]

My diagnosis: tuberculosis.

[gosensgo101]

Always looking for ways to get control of the team yourself, eh cat. :D

[C-Lo]

This is f-ing amazing. Keep it up. You got me glued.

[CatKnight]

T980: Thanks!

SrMeowMeow: Quite possible. The first good antibiotic vs. TB was only invented in 1946 and a new one came out in '52. It's not well controlled in 1954, not even in the industrialized west.

gosensgo101: Rats, you figured me out. :)

C-Lo: Thanks! Here's another chapter.
*******

April 25, 1954


Ed Hasley cancelled dinner at the last minute on Sunday by way of his housekeeper, a hassled woman who stretched the definition of southern hospitality to the breaking point. "Mr. Hasley sends his apologies, but a prior commitment keeps him..."

"What prior commitment?" I demanded. "This was his idea, not mine! I missed the train to St. Louis because of him!"

"..will meet you at the office tomorrow at nine sharp," she concluded, not having heard a word I said or even realize I'd spoken.

"I doubt that! Where is he?"

The housekeeper sighed. "Not at home."

It soon became obvious I wasn't going to get anywhere else with her, so I hung up and pocketed my keys and wallet. I'd already put on my tie, but I shrugged out of my jacket and reached for my fedora. The hat was starting to lose favor in modern America, but I thought it added something to my appearance.

The news, and our leaders, seemed focused on communism. In baseball the Red Socks had changed their name to the Cincinnati Bulldogs to disavow any interest in the principal. Vietnam saw communist insurgents systematically defeating French forces. Earlier this month President Eisenhower talked about 'falling dominoes' in southeast Asia - that with China and North Korea gone and Vietnam on the brink, it would encourage other uprisings throughout Indochina. Finally, Senator McCarthy of Wisconsin began holding hearings openly asking whether the US Army was 'soft' on communism.

Once you left the house and the TV, radio and papers behind though, the tone changed dramatically. New Orleans as a whole could care less about anything that didn't directly reflect on their culture or bon vivant style. Jazz and blues beckoned from the open doors of more than one restaurant, and one with door frames carved into serpents standing on their tail beckoned.

Inside the room was dark, the food spicy, and the music tended towards saxs with a low drum beat that felt almost like your heartbeat. A young man occasionally accompanied the sax player singing songs I didn't recognize, though apparently a fair number of patrons did. One was in what I took to be French.

While washing down a bowl of something that claimed to be a fish chili but more closely resembled hydrochloric acid, a young woman took the stage. Pretty in her own way, which was dark skinned with her hair shoulder length and dyed off blond. She began to sing.

Once I had a secret love,
That lived within the heart of me...

The sax player was almost silent except for a faint, almost haunting background and their drummer, whoever and whereever he was, played a soft, slow beat so she alone carried most of the medley. I recognized the song from the radio: It'd recently been # 1 in the country with Doris Day singing it. This girl could have sang toe-to-toe with her, but for her age and the color of her skin.

All too soon my secret love,
He became impatient to be free.

At that moment I glanced around the restaurant. Regardless of race or their status outside of the wooden walls, most everyone sat in rapt attention. Two men in white suits and fedoras completely ignored the entertainment in favor of their cards. One man in the corner, a fat one, cuddled a giggly red-haired woman who looked like she'd come home from a parade, and drunk at that. His wife perhaps.

No...not his wife.

At last my heart's an open door,
And my secret love's no secret any more.

I stood up as the crowd broke into applause and drifted towards the couple. One or two people thought my sudden departure rude and let me know with disapproving frowns, but I ignored them, put on my hat and mounted the three steps to the upper level where they sat.

The man noticed me first, looked away, then turned back and grimaced. His date boldly looked me up and down like a side of beef.

"Hello, Ed. Who's your friend?"

[PotatoOfCouch13]

It soon became obvious I wasn't going to get anywhere else with her, so I hung up and pocketed my keys and wallet. I'd already put on my tie, but I shrugged out of my jacket and reached for my fedora. The hat was starting to lose favor in modern America, but I thought it added something to my appearance.

Who doesn't love a good fedora? That hat never went out of style! :D

Top notch as always, Cat. Very interesting to see where you go with this, as the New Orleans franchise seems to be crumbling from management on down.

[CatKnight]

PotatoofCouch: I agree about fedoras, but finding a good haberdasher nowadays takes significant effort. :(
*******

Late April 1954

After a strained introduction to Ed's 'friend,' I removed my hat, half bowed in Ed's direction and reminded him we had a meeting, then departed with his bloodshot eyes boring into my back. He smelled of alcohol and something else I couldn't identify due to the overwhelming, cloyingly sweet perfume his lady wore. For a second I understood an asthmatic's life much better as my heart hammered and breathing faltered. I stifled a cough and quickly paced outside into the welcome night air.

Let's be honest here. If Ed wants to cheat on his wife, we can agree that's rotten but it's also not the point. I'm bench coach for probably the moodiest man in the Majors and assistant to a GM who almost never shows up. I'm starting to get a good feel for why the Blues have languished in the middle of the league for almost their entire existence. I don't expect either Hasley or Gayle to take my word for much, but I at least expect them to try.

I showed up at the office at 8 AM with the paper and a thermos of coffee to wile the morning away before I finally gave up around noon. Marge had the day off, so when I opened the door I was surprised to hear typing. Slow, painful typing, but the click and clack of keys on paper and the ringing bell of the return carriage couldn't be mistaken.

"Ed!?" I looked into his office to see him, shirt open at the collar and with his coat still on, crouched over Marge's typewriter. He looked up at my voice, frowned, and returned to work.

"What are you working on?" I asked, taking the seat across from him.

He looked up again. Hasley's eyes were still bloodshot, and a slight throb at his temples betrayed the hangover he had to be fighting. His gaze turned to cold steel. "What are you going to say?" he rumbled.

"Nothing."

He lifted his head and regarded me. "Why?"

"Why would I?" I shook my head. "I don't care what you do, Mr. Hasley. I'm just trying to do what I can for the Blues."

He sat up very straight and pushed back in the chair. "I see." I'm not sure he believed me, but he let it drop. Hasley pulled out his typewritten page and handed it to me. "Do you recognize these names, sir?"

"These are some of our pitchers in the Minors."

"Yes...." Some of the tension dropped out of his voice and his southern drawl inched its way back in. "That is correct. I've decided to give you your head with your earlier recommendation. As I recall you wanted to trade some of our excess to lower payroll."

"Or whatever we can get. Some of our players are underperforming."

"It's a little early to be upsetting team chemistry, is it not? No...prospects by all means. Lower our payroll if you can - I'm sure Mr. Himes will appreciate it. I don't think we need to try and swallow another Major League salary right now."
********

Unfortunately, there's areason the Blues have an excess of pitching propsects: So does everyone else. The running theory around the League appears to be you can never have too much, which probably helps explain why the CBA is so power poor compared to the Southern League I managed in last year.

Most people seemed willing to talk, however, finding the idea of an offer coming out of New Orleans refreshing. Most of the offers were borderline insults however: A few starting pitchers that might or might not have found their way into the rotation for a year or two before retiring, another one or two outfielders with inflated salaries that might or might not have been good enough to start.

I finally decided that, even if Hasley had truly given me 'my head' in this, I wasn't improving today's team with what I could put on the table. I therefore started trolling for prospects and phones Happy Spencer, the Rustlers' GM.

"WHAT!?" shouted Spencer, not sounding very happy at all.

"Mr..Spencer? This is Ty Pennington in New Orleans."

"Oh. Sorry, Pennington. The wife's been calling every five minutes for the past hour." He paused to compose himself. "I was warned you might call."

"Warned? By who?"

"Never mind, Pennington." He spoke with a gravelly voice and I heard ice clinking in a glass. "You have pitching prospects. We have pitching prospects. Fortunately I'm willing to deal. What are you looking for?"

"Prospects. Fielders."

It took some time to arrange a deal we could both live with. Like most minor league deals it won't be clear for years who won this trade, though at a 3:1 ratio I'm not sure it's New Orleans.

Trade with Kansas City:
NWO-KCR: SP Kevin Gonzalez (74/75) [29] (0-3 5.10 in AA, Last played MLB 1952) <$9.7K thru 1956>
NWO-KCR: SP Patrick Bunten (77) [31] (3-1 3.60 in AAA, Last played MLB 1953) <$17.1K thru 1956>
NWO-KCR: SP Joe Tibbs (69) [35] (3-0 3.12 in A, Last played MLB 1953) <$13.2K thru 1955>

KCR-NWO: CF Jamie Louie (65/77) [25] (.000 0-0 0 in 2 AB) <$3.5K thru 1955>

Kansas City picks up some minor league depth after suffering several early injuries. Jamie was the best deal we could get - the other teams knew very well what we were up to. He'll go to AA to develop.
*******

While I was stuck at home, Rob Gayle took the Blues to St. Louis to hopefully match, if not improve, on our 2 for 3 performance at home.


New Orleans (12-9) (2nd-T, -3g) at St. Louis (11-10) (4th, -4g)

April 26, 1954

A close match for most of the game, we scored three in the ninth led by C Lee Bevilacqua's two run single to put the game away. Neither starter lasted that long as we struggled for dominance. Reliever Lucas Rovai pitched four innings to keep us competitive until the offense could put this away.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 2 0 1 1 0 0 3 7 11 2
Redbirds (STL) 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 1 0 3 9 2


Starters: K. Martell vs. P. Hutcheson
WP: K. Martell (4-1) - 5.0 IP, 8 H, 2 ER, 3 BB, 1 K
LP: P. Hutcheson (1-4) - 6.0 IP, 5 H, 3 ER, 3 BB, 3 K
SV: L. Rovai (3) - 4.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 1 BB, 3 K
HR: None


April 27, 1954

Chuck Clark led a close battle going 4 for 5 with 2 runs as we scored three in the tenth to edge the Redbirds. We'd fallen behind 6-2 through six costing us our starter. We needed three relievers (including Botting and Yastrzemski, below) to finish this one. Lee Bevilacqua once more hit for two runs in the final frame.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 1 1 0 0 0 2 4 0 3 11 16 1
Redbirds (STL) 2 0 2 0 2 0 0 2 0 0 8 9 3


Starters: D. Trails (4.2 IP, 4 H, 4 ER, 4 BB, 2 K) vs. B. Wilcock (7.0 IP, 8 H, 4 ER, 2 BB, 1 K)
WP: C. Botting (4-2) - 2.0 IP, 3 H, 2 ER, 1 BB, 1 K
LP: N. Crowley (0-1) - 2.0 IP, 5 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
SV: L. Yastrzemski (1) - 1.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
HR: D. Baucom (4), M. Galton (3)
Stars: C. Clark (4-5, 2 R, 0 RBI, 0 SB)


April 28, 1954

We probably could have had this one, but our offense finally takes the night off. Not even St. Louis' EIGHT errors are enough to give us the edge. Redbird pitcher Nick Williams allows ten runners on top of that (five walks and hits) but proves to be a grand master at shutting us down when we need it the most.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 2 5 0
Redbirds (STL) 2 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 x 3 5 8


Starters: T. Widdop vs. N. Williams
WP: N. Williams (3-1) - 9.0 IP, 5 H, 0 ER, 5 BB, 4 K
LP: T. Widdop (0-1) - 7.0 IP, 5 H, 3 ER, 2 BB, 2 K
HR: None

*******

[CatKnight]

COMMENT: This extra post brought to you by the 10K character limit.
*******

I caught the train to Boston and intercepted the team on the morning of the 29th. They looked insanely chipper for having travelled half way across the country. It would be next to impossible for them to take a train from St. Louis yesterday evening and be in any condition to play today. In the past schedulers took this into account, but now with passenger jets available it didn't signify.

Me?

"God damn, Peacock! You look like hell!" Rob Gayle greeted me at the train station as our players caught up on some much needed rest. "What did they do? Stuff you in the cargo car!?" No ladies around, so no need to control his language. Gayle looked worn, but unnaturally gay and I commented on this.

"And why not? We took two from the Redbirds. We're tied with Boston. If we can take another two here then we'll be on Philly's ass! We have a chance here, Peacock!" He thumped his fist in his palm. "It's early yet, but damn me, we have a chance!"

Early. Rob should know better than to be so confident in late April. Still, his good humor was infectious. "Then we'll head home and take over first!"

His mood vanished in an instant. "Home," he said in a troubled tone. "Right."
*******

New Orleans (14-10) (2nd-T, -2g) at Boston (14-10) (2nd-T, -2g)

April 29, 1954

We blow a 3-1 lead when Boston SS Jon Moulton hits a two-run blast to tie it. We pull ahead anyway, but Boston catches up then wins on a bloop single in the tenth. Rovai pitched 2.2 innings of effective relief but picked up his first loss of the year. Presson picked up his league leading fifth homer.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 2 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 4 9 1
Pilgrims (BOS) 0 1 0 0 2 0 1 0 0 1 5 13 1


Starters: J. Sutton (6.2 IP, 10 H, 4 ER, 1 BB, 4 K) vs. A. Butler (5.2 IP, 8 H, 4 ER, 2 BB, 2 K)
WP: J. Walker (2-0) - 2.0 IP, 0 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
LP: L. Rovai (0-1) - 2.2 IP, 3 H, 1 ER, 2 BB, 1 K
HR: S. Presson (5), B. Sawyer (1), J. Moulton (3)


April 30, 1954

Another extra inning affair, Kevin Martell pitched nine innings before yielding to Chris Botting who lost it on another bloop single. Presson earned both RBI for the team.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 2 9 2
Pilgrims (BOS) 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 3 7 1


Starters: K. Martell (9.0 IP, 4 H, 1 ER, 2 BB, 2 K) vs. J. Walker (10.0 IP, 8 H, 1 ER, 4 BB, 4 K)
WP: K. Owen (2-1) - 1.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
LP: C. Botting (4-3) - 1.2 IP, 3 H, 1 ER, 2 BB, 0 K
HR: None


May 1, 1954

After two extra inning losses, I think the team was just tired. Certainly Rob was, and after giving up four errors our fighting spirit just fled. Ten runs over the sixth through eighth inning tells you what you need to know. Alan Hobby brought home Jeff Dobry for our only run.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 6 4
Pilgrims (BOS) 0 1 0 0 0 4 3 3 x 11 11 1


Starters: D. Trails vs. D. Henley
WP: D. Henley (4-1) - 9.0 IP, 6 H, 1 ER, 2 BB, 3 K
LP: D. Trails (0-3) - 5.2 IP, 7 H, 1 ER, 4 BB, 6 K
HR: None

*******

A quiet ride home as we tumble out of second and fall four games off the pace.

[OregonDuck1989]

Never feels good to get swept. Tough luck for the Blues.

[Jeffy25]

enjoy this, keep it up!

[CatKnight]

OregonDuck: Yeah, that sweep hurt.

Jeffy25: Thanks for the kind words
*******


National League Summary
April 1954



Team W L PCT GB E
Brooklyn Bombers 20 8 714 -- ---
Buffalo Bisons 18 10 643 2 125
Washington Federals 17 11 607 3 124
Kansas City Rustlers 13 14 481 6.5 121
Cleveland Broncos 13 15 464 7 120
Baltimore Canaries 10 17 370 9.5 118
Chicago Whalers 10 18 357 10 117
New York Titans 10 18 357 10 117


The two-time defending World Champion and four-time defending League Champion is off to another hot start. Already the National League shows signs of dividing into first and second divisions as the Bisons and Federals have the best chance of challenging the status quo. Both the Whalers and Titans have finished second in the league within the past two years, but so far it looks like a rough year in the league's two largest markets.



Batting Average Burt Conor (WAS) .436 Brian Baldwin (BRO) .415
Home Runs Gerald Shibiz (NYT) 7 Three tied with 6
Runs Batted In Tony Teplitsky (WAS) 33 Two tied with 30
Steals Steve Mallon (WAS) 19 Two tied with 11

Wins James Petrie (BRO) 7 Two tied with 5
Earned Run Average Tim Schworn (KCR) 2.34 Mike Schaefer (BUF) 2.50
Strikeouts Alex Castoro (NYT) 21 Three tied with 20
Saves Seven tied with 2




Trades:
None

Milestones:
Chicago - LF Jamie Wier (78) [28] (.368 2-10 0) Hit for the Cycle

Injuries (minimum 2 months):
Baltimore - SP Sean Poehnert (81) [30] (2-3 4.57 2 CG) 10 months
Buffalo - SP Mike Magauran (88) [30] (1-2 5.50 0) 3 months
Kansas City - 3B Sean Clark (81) [28] (.188 2-14 0) 3 months

[CatKnight]

American League Summary
April 1954



Team W L PCT GB E
Philadelphia Eagles 18 9 667 -- ---
Boston Pilgrims 17 10 630 1 127
New Orleans Blues 14 13 519 4 124
New York Kings 13 14 481 5 123
St. Louis Redbirds 13 14 481 5 123
Cincinnati Bulldogs 12 15 444 6 122
Chicago Stars 11 16 407 7 121
Milwaukee Brewers 10 17 370 8 120


The Eagles were favored to win the league for the first time in three years and are so far living up to their potential. Similarly, the Pilgrims were expected to jump from eighth into the thick of the pennant race thanks to several off season moves, and have just proven how dangerous they are against the Blues. After that the American League is extremely close with four games separating third and eighth.



Batting Average Marv Galton (STL) .432 Jon Moulton (BOS) .384
Home Runs Scott Presson (NWO) 5 Marv Galton (STL) 5
Runs Batted In Jon Moulton (BOS) 29 Brian Trollo (CIN) 28
Steals Kenneth Crim (MIL) 10 Three tied with 8

Wins Eight tied with 4
Earned Run Average Mike King (NWO) 1.85 Nick Williams (STL) 1.85
Strikeouts Derek Henley (BOS) 23 Marcus Piper (PHI) 23
Saves Guy Tillis (PHI) 4 Three tied with 3




Trades (non-New Orleans):
None

Milestones:
Philadelphia - 2B Joe Apple (80) [32] (.347 2-18 2) Hit for the Cycle
St. Louis - 1B Joseph Hesson (82) [35] (.302 2-15 4) 1000 RBIs

Injuries (minimum 2 months):
New Orleans - SP Paul Stonard (72) [32] (Last played MLB 1953) 3 months
New York - SP Dan Quick (87) [29] (0-0 4.02) 4 months
Philadelphia - 3B Leon Willis (88) [32] (.286 0-2 1) 3 months

[T 980]

I think it's just me but Joe Apple sounds like a funny name if you say it out loud, lol

[CatKnight]

T980: The fictional name generator can come up with some odd names. I find having a Yastrzemski on my roster kinda amusing.
*******


New Orleans Blues
April 1954



1954 Batting Team G AVG AB H 2B 3B HR BB K SB CS R RBI SLG OBP OP2*
Bevilacqua, Lee NWO 25 .260 100 26 5 3 2 4 4 0 2 7 16 .430 .288 .252
D'Anorade, Seth NWO 15 .185 27 5 2 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 5 .370 .185 .185

Baucom, Dan NWO 27 .324 108 35 1 2 4 11 7 3 3 15 16 .481 .392 .316
Bennett, Matthew NWO 2 .000 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000 .000 .000

Dobry, Jeff NWO 27 .330 109 36 6 1 0 8 11 7 5 20 17 .404 .378 .290
Clark, Chuck NWO 27 .327 98 32 6 1 0 12 4 1 8 16 8 .408 .396 .300
Thirlwell, Will NWO 27 .278 79 22 1 0 1 10 7 3 5 11 11 .329 .374 .269
Higdon, James NWO 13 .125 8 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 1 .125 .125 .094

Presson, Scott NWO 26 .236 110 26 6 2 5 4 7 2 5 14 21 .464 .261 .247
Sawyer, Bill NWO 27 .202 104 21 4 0 1 15 9 5 10 22 5 .269 .303 .219
Mick, Rich NWO 25 .302 86 26 3 1 1 5 7 2 1 11 6 .395 .355 .276
Hobby, Alan NWO 10 .278 18 5 1 0 1 2 1 0 0 3 5 .500 .318 .284
Louie, Jamie NWO 5 .000 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000 .000 .000


OP2* - I don't know the formal name (or even if there is one). Bill James theorized that ((OBPx2)+SLG)/4 might be slightly superior than OPS in determining a batter's value. It also has the advantage of roughly conforming to the same scale as batting average, so anything over .300 is good, anything under .200 very bad and so forth.

Catcher: Thogh D'Anorade's occasionally tried to retake the starting role he held last year, Bevilacqua's proven to be a valuable addition to the club. Though there are catchers in AAA who might be able to fill the backup role, there's no compelling reason to demote or trade D'Anorade...yet.

First: Last year Baucom served as starting first baseman while Bennett saw action throughout the entire infield. Dan's doing well enough this year that Matt's seeing almost no play at all. Again, while there isn't a reason to get rid of Bennett yet, we do have people in the minors who can go 0 for 1 for far less money.

Infield: Dobry and Clark are solid performers, and if Thirlwell at third isn't exactly making a name for himself, he isn't embarassing us either. None of them have needed substantial time off so far, limiting the playing time of backup IF James Higdon.

Outfield: Presson's value as a power hitter is hampered by trouble getting on base (4 walks, lowest among starters). Sawyer has the opposite plan: He leads the team in walks, but can't bring anyone home to save his life. Though it's a little premature to demote anyone, if this trend continues expect Alan Hobby to have a legitimate chance of taking his starting role back. Both of Louie's at bats were iwth KC. He's now in AA.



1954 Pitching Team IP ERA G GS W L SV K BB R/9 DICE
Martell, Kevin NWO 47.1 3.61 7 7 4 1 0 15 14 11.60 4.20
Trails, Damien NWO 43.2 4.74 7 7 0 3 0 17 19 13.60 4.79
Sutton, Josh NWO 41.0 5.93 7 7 2 3 0 15 12 12.95 4.78
King, Mike NWO 34.0 1.85 4 4 2 1 0 4 4 7.41 3.21

Rovai, Lucas NWO 23.0 3.13 12 0 0 1 3 7 10 10.96 3.70
Botting, Chris NWO 17.2 4.08 14 0 4 3 3 5 7 12.74 3.62

Widdop, Torben NWO 11.2 3.86 3 1 0 1 0 7 3 10.03 2.83
Wilson, Palmer NWO 10.2 5.06 4 1 1 0 0 4 6 14.34 3.94
Yastrzemski, Luke NWO 9.1 6.75 5 0 1 0 1 5 8 19.29 4.50
Brown, Burt NWO 3.1 2.70 1 0 0 0 0 0 3 21.60 5.70
Hanley, Mike NWO 1.0 9.00 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 18.00 16.00


Starters: King recently lost his starting role to Widdop with Palmer Wilson rounding up the top 5. It's a curious choice given King's doing exceptionally well so far. Sutton and Trails are so far unsteady on the mound, and it's perhaps useful that the majority of our bullpen can start if necessary.

Closers: Rovai and Botting have evenly split the save duty so far. Both are reasonably high quality pitchers.

Relief: With Widdop and Wilson moving to the starting rotation, King becomes the best of the middle relievers with Yastrzemski his distant backup. I'm inclined to demote him, but after 9 innings it's a little too soon to be certain. Similarly, Hanley's ERA and DICE are pathetic...but he's only worked one inning.

[OldYankFan]

Mike King is getting a raw deal.

[CatKnight]

OldYankFan: Agreed. Let's see if there's anything to be done..
*******

Early May 1954


"Henry Daff!" Gayle shouted, slamming a manila folder on his desk. "God damn it, man. I thought you were supposed to help Hasley get his head out of his ass! Take a look!" He shooed the folder in my direction with both hands. "Look at it!"

I opened our last report from C-Kingsport. Daff was batting .243 with 9 RBI.

"He wanted Daff up at the beginning of the year, and now that we have an opening he wants him up again! He has no experience. He only graduated from that prep school of his two years ago..."

"Tulane is not commonly referred to as a prep school."

"...and so far he's not impressing me! He hasn't even spent any time in Birmingham! How the hell is he supposed to do us any good?"

I knew the answer. I also knew Rob wouldn't like it, so I remained silent.

"Not to mention he's a third catcher. I have two catchers already, and I'm not even sure I like one of them! Tell Hasley to throw Daff back!"

"I don't think he's going to do that."

"Then what the hell good are you!" he snapped. "Get out!"

I closed the folder and tossed it back to him. "I wanted to ask about Mike King." At the beginning of the season I agreed with Rob that King would be better off in Birmingham, but he'd more than proven himself. Yet... "He's doing well this year, Rob. I think he belongs in the rota..."

"GET OUT!" Gayle gripped his stomach and clamped his teeth around a cough, then before I could ask about the doc he pointed at the door.
*******

"Slowly, slowly," Doctor Rabbone said quietly. "Good. Oui. Hold it. No, a little longer."

"It hurts, doc!" complained third baseman Will Thirlwell. He sat on the bed with his right leg held parallel to the floor, using hands to hold his thigh up. His calf twitched and he grit his teeth.

"I know, but you must exercise for it to heal." Rabbone clucked his tongue as Will's calf slowly sank. "Sit still for a moment." He looked up at me. "Yes?"

I beckoned him over. "How is he?" I asked, nodding at Thirlwell.

"Spiked tendon. Mr. Gayle was correct in placing him on the disabled list. It will be at least two weeks before he can continue, and..." He hesitated.

"And?"

He shook his head. "It is too soon to say."

I waited, but he didn't explain more. "Now, what can you tell me about Rob?"

Rabbone searched my eyes. "What has he told you?"

"Nothing, but he keeps gripping his stomach. I think he's in pain. Certainly he's being snappish."

"There is litle I can say," he replied. "You may remind him to take his medicine, and that we have an appointment on Thursday."

Again he proved unwilling to say more, so I turned away. Rabbone picked up a bottle of pills and poured our four tablets. "Oh, Mr. Pennington?"

"Yes?"

"If you would do him a service, you would try to help him keep an even temper. Tension and stress are not good right now."

He handed the pills to Thirlwell, who popped them like they were candy. "Good. Once the amphetamines have taken effect, we may try again."
*******


Milwaukee (10-17) (8th, -8g) at New Orleans (14-13) (3rd, -4g)


May 3, 1954

This really isn't a good game for us. Josh Sutton proves why he's in danger of losing his starting role in favor of Kevin Martell as the Brewers blast him for the first three innings. Our relief does better, but not really good enough .. and anyway it doesn't really matter as we only get three hits on the day.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Brewers (MIL) 3 0 2 1 0 1 0 0 1 8 13 1
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 0 2 2 0 0 4 3 0


Starters: J. Douglas vs. J. Sutton
WP: J. Douglas (1-3) - 8.0 IP, 3 H, 4 ER, 5 BB, 2 K
LP: J. Sutton (2-4) - 2.2 IP, 6 H, 5 ER, 2 BB, 2 K
HR: None
Stars: C. Tindle (4-5, 2 R, 2 RBI, 0 SB)


May 4, 1954

And Mr. Martell shows us why he's not ready to be a club ace as he gives up six runs in 5.2 innings. We manage to pound our way back into content led by Lee Bevilacqua (4 for 7, 3 runs, 2 RBI) and tie it in the ninth. We trade runs in the twelfth, again thanks to Bevilacuqa, but in the fourteenth frame Milwaukee explodes for four more runs. All unearned thanks to an error by SS Dobry.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Brewers (MIL) 4 0 0 0 0 2 0 2 0 5 13 15 5
Blues (NWO) 0 0 1 0 1 2 0 0 4 1 9 15 3


Starters: S. Belsey (8.0 IP, 9 H, 5 ER, 2 BB, 1 K) vs. K. Martell (5.2 IP, 6 H, 6 ER, 3 BB, 0 K)
WP: R. Anderson (2-2) - 2.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
LP: L. Yastrzemski (1-1) - 1.2 IP, 3 H, 0 ER, 3 BB, 0 K
HR: J. Purcell (4), L. Bevilacqua (3), R. Mick (2), A. Hobby (2)
Stars: J. Purcell (2-5, 4 R, 4 RBI, 0 SB), L. Bevilacqua (4-7, 3 R, 2 RBI, 1 SB)


May 5, 1954

Our losing streak extends to seven games as Botting loses control of the game in the ninth. We entered the final frame leading 7-6 on a Chuck Clark RBI single, but yet another error (3B Higdon) allows them to bring three home in the ninth. In the series Milwaukee earns 10 errors to our 4...but ours are deadly.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Brewers (MIL) 0 0 0 2 2 0 0 2 3 9 9 4
Blues (NWO) 0 2 1 1 0 2 0 1 0 7 7 1


Starters: T. Thomas (5.1 IP, 6 H, 4 ER, 1 BB, 0 K) vs. T. Widdop (7.2 IP, 8 H, 6 ER, 2 BB, 4 K)
WP: M. Lynagh (1-0) - 2.2 IP, 1 H, 1 ER, 2 BB, 0 K
LP: C. Botting (4-4) - 1.1 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 2 BB, 1 K
SV: B. Sydnor (1) - 1.0 IP, 0 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
HR: J. MacVean (2)
*******

Gayle left our boarding house early for what I presumed to be his medical appointment on Thursday morning. I heard the knob turn, his door creak open, then the lock click shut.

I quickly threw on my clothes and emerged into the hall to talk with him, but he'd already hurried out. Maybe I'd get some answers in the evening...

...except Gayle didn't return to the boarding house before I had to leave for the game, nor was he there. I annexed his office and quickly filled out a lineup card - really the same lineup as yesterday with a new starting pitcher, and shoved it into my pocket.

Matthew Bennett, the first baseman with a medical background, looked at me solemnly as I emerged. I simply shook my head. I didn't know what was going on, but I meant to find out.
*******

Philadelphia (19-11) (1st-T, +0g) at New Orleans (14-16) (4th-T, -5g)

May 6, 1954

We win, though I'm not sure we deserved to. We nearly squandered an 8-2 and 11-4 lead as the Eagles scored four in the ninth in a determined attempt a comeback. There's no doubt Trails deserved the win though, with three decisive strikeouts helping us pad our lead. On our side Matt Bennett earned his first hits of 1954 going 3 for 4.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Eagles (PHI) 1 1 0 0 2 0 0 0 4 8 13 5
Blues (NWO) 1 0 5 2 0 1 1 1 x 11 16 3


Starters: W. Hogg vs. D. Trails
WP: D. Trails (1-3) - 5.0 IP, 8 H, 3 ER, 3 BB, 3 K
LP: W. Hogg (2-3) - 2.1 IP, 6 H, 6 ER, 2 BB, 1 K
HR: None
Stars: K. Lyons (4-5, 1 R, 3 RBI, 0 SB)
********

When I walked back to the house after the game, I found Gayle sitting on his balcony smoking a cigar. He gave me a smug look as I glared at him from the street. A few moments later I sank into the chair next to him.

"How'd we do, Peacock?" he drawled, speaking around the cigar.

"We won. 11-8." I stared at him. "Where the hell were you?"

"Gave myself the night off!" He removed the cigar and breathed smoke at the night sky. "We won. Heh. Maybe I should just let you manage." He frowned at me.

"You're the skipper. The players wanted to know where you were, and damned if I knew!"

"What are you now, Peacock, my mother?" He snorted then resumed staring at the stars. "The day I give you my comings and goings is the day I go home."
*******

[CatKnight]

COMMENT: The 10K limit commeth.
*******


May 7, 1954

Sutton sucks. There really is no nicer way of putting it. He last two innings, squandering an early offensive spike to trail 4-3. Philly's Jamie Pastore was little better however, and by the end of five we led 7-5. Then came the sixth: An error didn't help reliever Burt Brown's cause, but in truth they would have scored five of the seven runs anyway and he richly deserves the loss. It's too bad, because the offense didn't. OF Royce Anderson went 4 for 4 scoring 5 runs in his season debut while Clark went 4 for 5 with 3 RBI.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Eagles (PHI) 3 1 0 0 1 7 0 0 1 13 16 5
Blues (NWO) 3 0 0 2 2 0 1 0 3 11 16 1


Starters: J. Pastore (4.1 IP, 7 H, 2 ER, 1 BB, 0 K) vs. J. Sutton (2.0 IP, 4 H, 4 ER, 1 BB, 0 K)
WP: J. Ellis (2-0) - 0.2 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
LP: B. Brown (0-1) - 0.1 IP, 4 H, 3 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
HR: E. Haitly (4)
Stars: E. Haitly (3-5, 2 R, 4 RBI, 0 SB), R. Anderson (4-4, 5 R, 1 RBI, 0 SB), C. Clark (4-5, 1 R, 3 RBI, 0 SB)


May 8, 1954

This one isn't very pretty as Martell can't make it out of the third without giving Philly a 6-0 lead. Though we begin scoring in the sixth, by the seventh inning stretch the score is 13-1 Eagles. Five runs in the last two frames, led by catcher Lee Bevilacqua, prevent humiliation but it's still a sizeable rout.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Eagles (PHI) 1 1 4 0 0 1 6 0 0 13 17 3
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 3 2 7 9 3


Starters: R. Wolf vs. K. Martell
WP: R. Wolf (3-1) - 7.2 IP, 7 H, 4 ER, 3 BB, 2 K
LP: K. Martell (4-2) - 2.1 IP, 7 H, 6 ER, 2 BB, 1 K
HR: None
*******

With that we have now lost nine of the last ten - the nine games managed by Rob Gayle. We tumble into the second division, six games and a longshot out of first.

[gosensgo101]

Rob Doyle?

[CatKnight]

gosensgo: :grumble: Gayle. Rob Gayle. I thought something didn't feel right as I was writing this out earlier, but I couldn't put my finger on what.

Good catch!

[CatKnight]

May 1954


"Don't worry about it, Peacock," Gayle groused.

"I understand your concern, Mr, Pennington," Hasley reassured me, "but I think a little more patience is called for when dealing with a seven year veteran, don't you?"

Two men who disagreed on almost everything seemed to have no problem that Josh Sutton, our 27 year old staff ace, was 2-4 with a 7.09 ERA.
*******

"If he's on the 25-man, I'm going to use him," Rob told me when I returned. "Who am I going to use? And don't get me started on King again!" Mike King, our former # 3 starter, now served in relief. He hadn't played since his demotion, but up til that point he'd enjoyed a 1.85 ERA.

"And why not? The man's done what we've asked. He's certainly doing better than anyone else on our starting rotation right now. We need to shake things up or we need to call it a season."

He glared at me through red-rimmed eyes. "I didn't take you for a quitter, Peacock."

"I'm not. Are you?"

He stumbled to his feet and pointed at the door.

"Give King Sutton's next start."

"No!"

"If he fails, I'll do your laundry for a month."

"We have staff for that, Peacock!" His face twisted into something between a sneer and a smile. "Though it would be worth it just to get you to shut the hell up! Do..."

"And if I win, he takes over Sutton's place, at least for the next two weeks. Maybe it'll shake some of that overconfidence Josh seems to have. Or maybe you'll prove me wrong and King was just lucky. Either way we're 1-9 in the last ten. We need to try something.
*******

New Orleans (15-18) (6th, -6g) at St. Louis (13-20) (8th, -8g)

May 9, 1954

Our epic slide continues, thorugh no real fault of Torben Widdop. Our offense proves most ineffective with only Sawyer (2 for 3, RBI) and Presson (2 for 4, R) contributing to the cause.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 2 7 2
Redbirds (STL) 0 0 1 1 0 1 0 0 x 3 8 1


Starters: T. Widdop vs. P. Hutcheson
WP: P. Hutcheson (2-5) - 9.0 IP, 7 H, 2 ER, 1 BB, 2 K
LP: T. Widdop (0-2) - 8.0 IP, 8 H, 2 ER, 2 BB, 2 K
HR: None

*******

Worse, Jeff Dobry's nailed just above the knee by a fastball in the eighth inning. I rushed out with Doc Rabbone on my heels and we managed to get him onto his feet. He couldn't support any weight on his left leg though, so we ended up carting him off the diamond. The prognosis? Chipped kneecap. He should be able to return in a couple of weeks.

If the mood in the clubhouse was somewhat somber after that game, in some parts it was downright smug and pleased when Chris Herskovitz walked in. Herskovitz (74/87) [24] (.265 3-22 in AAA-Birmingham) was just coming into his own when he played 125 games during the '52 campaign, but then took a year off for the war. I remember thinking he might benefit from seasoning in Birmingham while we had the luxury, but some of the veterans on the club - notably Scott Presson - thought we were just cutting payroll or otherwise punishing him for his year away. Now he'd get his chance to prove he belonged.
*******


May 10, 1954

Does Herskovitz belong in the Majors? Do any of us? In King's first start of the month, he lasted six innings before a Redbird rally and some unfortunate errors did him in. Fortunately Bill Sawyer and James Higdon kept plugging away at them and we tied it again in the seventh. On to extra innings Alan Hobby opened the thirteenth by being plunked by a curve. Three consecutive bunts (one a hit) brought him home and Mike Hanley entered the game. Redbird SS Maury Glenn tied it with an RBI single, then Geoff Mance put it away.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 1 1 1 1 3 1 0 0 1 9 17 3
Redbirds (STL) 0 0 1 0 0 7 0 0 0 3 11 19 1


Starters: M. King (5.0 IP, 9 H, 4 ER, 0 BB, 1 K) vs. B. Wilcock (4.1 IP, 7 H, 4 ER, 2 BB, 1 K)
WP: J. Olson (1-0) - 3.0 IP, 3 H, 1 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
LP: M. Hanley (0-1) - 0.2 IP, 2 H, 3 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
HR: S. Presson (6), G. Mance (5)
Stars: B. Sawyer (4-7, 1 R, 4 RBI, 0 SB), J. Higdon (5-6, 2 R, 1 RBI, 0 SB)
*******

"Starch," Gayle said to me after the game.

"Eh?"

"I like my clothes well starched. I understand there's a store near our house that sells quality laundry supplies. Mrs. Wilson will have the address."
*******

May 11, 1954

And so we get the triumphant return of staff ace Josh Sutton. At least he waits until the sixth inning to begin his collapse. In all fairness he has only one bad inning, but we take too many chances on the basepaths and give them too many free outs. Desperation is starting to creep into Gayle's strategy.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 1 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 3 9 1
Redbirds (STL) 0 1 0 0 0 3 1 0 x 5 11 2


Starters: J. Sutton vs. N. Williams
WP: N. Williams (4-3) - 8.0 IP, 8 H, 2 ER, 4 BB, 2 K
LP: J. Sutton (2-5) - 6.1 IP, 10 H, 5 ER, 0 BB, 3 K
SV: M. Ilett (1) - 1.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
HR: None

May 12, 1954

Martell only lasts four innings before coming to me with complaints of elbow stiffness. "It just doesn't feel right," he said so out he goes. We tied the game at three in the sixth, but they scored thrice of Lucas Rovai in the eighth to put away the series.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Blues (NWO) 0 0 2 0 0 1 0 0 1 4 8 1
Redbirds (STL) 0 1 0 1 1 0 0 3 x 6 11 1


Starters: K. Martell (4.0 IP, 6 H, 3 ER, 4 BB, 2 K) vs. E. Miuccio
WP: E. Miuccio (5-5) - 9.0 IP, 8 H, 2 ER, 2 BB, 3 K
LP: L. Rovai (0-2) - 3.2 IP, 5 H, 3 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
HR: S. Bulter (1)
*******

It was a somber train ride back home for a seven game homestand. Martell, Widdop and Hobby have all asked for a few days off with minor aches and pains. Doc Rabbone signed off on all their complaints, but he took me aside:

"I have no doubt their sores and strains are real enough, but as you well know when a man feels downtrodden and beaten, he is more likely to succumb to his ailments rather than fight through them or develop them at all. Our team is falling apart, sir."

"Skip won't tell me what's wrong with him," I said.

"Non, and so neither will I. Remind him of his Thursday appointment however. I expect you will be at the helm tomorrow evening."
*******

[CatKnight]

COMMENT 1: This 10K character limit is really starting to annoy me.

COMMENT 2: It's getting harder to write about this team when it's so obvious that they're...uhm....bad. :X
*******


New York (17-19) (3rd-T, -6g) at New Orleans (15-22) (8th, -8.5g)

May 13, 1954

Since I had advanced warning I was in charge, I completely rebuilt the lineup. The result? One bad inning from Trails, but overall a solid performance. Our bats struck early (Mick 3 for 5, Bevilacqua 2 for 5, 2 RBI each) to keep us ahead and we won(!)



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Kings (NYK) 0 0 0 3 0 0 0 1 0 4 8 1
Blues (NWO) 2 3 0 1 0 0 1 0 x 7 12 2


Starters: L. Semple vs. D. Trails
WP: D. Trails (2-3) - 7.0 IP, 6 H, 1 ER, 4 BB, 3 K
LP: L. Semple (1-1) - 1.1 IP, 6 H, 5 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
HR: None
*******

Gayle returned home late that night looking ill...and surly. "Think you're a manager now, do you?" he demanded. I couldn't sleep well that night and took a walk at two in the morning...only to find him on his balcony, drinking the night away.

We get the news the next morning that Rich Mick needs to go on the disabled list. He got into a barfight with several Kings players and won, but sprained his wrist in the general melee. Sigh.
*******

May 14, 1954

Once more Widdop does just badly enough to earn the loss as he gets almost no run support whatsoever. Sawyer is our one bright spot with a 3 for 5 performance.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Kings (NYK) 0 0 0 2 1 0 0 0 1 4 5 0
Blues (NWO) 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 9 3


Starters: P. Lent vs. T. Widdop
WP: P. Lent (3-3) - 9.0 IP, 9 H, 1 ER, 2 BB, 6 K
LP: T. Widdop (0-3) - 9.0 IP, 5 H, 4 ER, 2 BB, 3 K
HR: G. Kunst (5)


May 15, 1954

Rob earns his first win of the month by backing pitcher Palmer Wilson. Wilson goes all nine innings with no walks, while our two power hitters, Baucom and Presson, come through in style. Wilson himself proves to be an offensive powerhouse going 4 for 4.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Kings (NYK) 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 2 9 3
Blues (NWO) 2 0 0 2 0 0 3 0 x 7 14 1


Starters: J. Powers vs. P. Wilson
WP: P. Wilson (2-0) - 9.0 IP, 9 H, 2 ER, 0 BB, 2 K
LP: J. Powers (2-2) - 3.2 IP, 9 H, 4 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
HR: D. Baucom (5), S. Presson (7)
Stars: P. Wilson (4-4, 1 R, 1 RBI, 0 SB)


May 16, 1954

And back to our old tricks. Sutton doesn't do well, wasting our six run rally in the fifth thanks to Clark and Sawyer (2 RBI each). In the end we go to the ninth with Luke Yastrzemski pitching, when NY 1B Lucas Brooks sacrifices home the winning run.



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + R H E
Kings (NYK) 1 0 0 2 1 0 1 1 1 7 10 2
Blues (NWO) 0 0 0 0 6 0 0 0 0 6 8 2


Starters: P. Lynch (4.2 IP, 4 H, 1 ER, 4 BB, 1 K) vs. J. Sutton (7.0 IP, 9 H, 6 ER, 1 BB, 1 K)
WP: N. Cook (6-1) - 1.0 IP, 0 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 0 K
LP: L. Yastrzemski (1-2) - 1.0 IP, 0 H, 1 ER, 1 BB, 0 K
SV: E. Babington (1) - 1.0 IP, 1 H, 0 ER, 0 BB, 1 K
HR: None

*******

Rabbone's right about one thing. The team is falling apart. Since our win on the thirteenth several players have taken to calling me "Skip," even after Gayle's return. Rob certainly has his own supporters, such as Bennett, Herskovitz (who I benched for the game I managed) and Sutton. Players need to know who to follow. I would happily abdicate, but the truth is...Gayle isn't doing well this year. Whatever this illness they won't talk about is has got him bad - he looks well enough usually, but clearly his managing...

One of the papers is calling on Hasley to give me a shot. I don't know if Mr. Himes would let him get away with that. I'm certainly not after Rob's job....

"Hey, skip!" called catcher Lee Bevilacqua. "Let's hit a bar. I need a few after tonight's game!"

I looked over and realized Lee was talking to me. Then I glanced in Rob's office: Our coach reached the same conclusion, flushed and turned back to his paperwork.

Sigh.
*******

[CatKnight]

Mid May 1954


"Peacock! Get in here!" Rob Gayle, manager of the New Orleans Blues, leaned on the frame of his office door and leered. He was..drunk, eyes as red as cherries and clearly exhuasted by the effort to maintain his own balance. While strictly not up to the moral standards of a 'family' game, Gayle was hardly the first coach to run a game while smashed.

I followed him into his office and he shut the door. "Wanted to talk to you, Peacock," he rumbled. "I'll keep it straight...to the point." He lumbered back to his desk and sat heavily. "I'm throwing you to the dogs."

Once the weak joke passed, it turned out he wouldn't follow the team to Cincinnati. "I need to stay in town and do....eh. You can have the Bulldogs. I'll catch up with the team in Milwaukee."

"Your Thursday appointment?" I asked. That was when the Cincy series began.

"You mind your own b's and u's, Peacock." He took out a tumbler and filled it. "I'm just fine. Just f-ing fine."
*******

"Coach!" I came out to find Josh Sutton waiting for me. Sutton, our ace of the 2-5 7.17 ERA record.

"Yes, Josh?" He wore a sly, amused expression I didn't care for at all.

"I hear you're the one who wanted to keep me out of the rotation last week," he said.

I could guess where this was going and folded my arms. "That's right. I think you need time to get your rhythm back."

His eyebrow arched, but the smile stayed. "And how DO you like washing Skip's drawers?" A few nearby players - Scott Presson, our left fielder, for one, smiled.

"You tell me, Josh."

Now the smile faded.

"If you don't earn the win in your next start, Skip's drawers are all yours."

"You can't do that."

My turn to smile. I nudged past Sutton. When we were more or less even I paused and murmured in his ear, "He likes 'em starched."
*******

Chicago (19-20) (4th, -6g) at New Orleans (17-24) (7th, -9g)


May 17: A close fought nail biter that I think took some of the edge off of Gayle's moodiness. Then again, the alcohol may have just worn off. We took a 2-0 lead early. They then went on a three run rally, and we tied in the seventh. They defeated a tiring Luke Yastrzemski in the ninth to take a 5-3 lead, but we tied it on our second RBI double play of the game. Chris Herskovitz doubled to start the eleventh, took third on an error, and scored on a sacrifice to win. Blues 6-5 (11)
WP: Hanley (1-1)
*****

Unfortunately tragedy struck in the seventh when a line drive hit 3B James Higdon in the neck. He managed to twist his body away to avoid a possibly life threatening issue, but Gayle and I both heard bone crack from the dugout. Higdon went down as if he'd been shot and Doc Rabbone leapt on the field. It took him ten seconds to examine the situation and signal for a stretcher.

Broken collar bone. Three months minimum. I spent over an hour on the phone with Ed Hasley after the game convincing him that no, bringing up one of our many fine CATCHERS from Birmingham would not do.

"What a cross-grained creature you are, sir!" said Hasley sharply. "Well, I certainly see no reason to exert ourselves with Mr. Thirlwell due back within days, but if you wish to make the effort, then I will sign off on it."

I told Gayle I would miss tomorrow's game so I could work in the office.

As it turns out, it ended up being an early day for me. After minimal wrangling the St. Louis Redbirds were willing to solve our problem.

New Orleans to St. Louis:
* C John Jasper (77/79) [25] (.000 0-0 in 2 AB last year) (.235 0-3 in AAA)
* SP Chuck Backhouse (76) [33] (7-9 4.68 1 CG 10 SV last year) (2-0 1.04 in AA)
* SP Ben Thomas (70/79) [22] (2-1 4.26 in AA, 2-1 5.26 in A)

St. Louis to New Orleans:
* 3B Collin Ford (71/79) [25] (.366 1-18 5 in AAA) (.440 1-17 5 in AA)


Jasper is starting catcher material, but currently part of a three-man bottleneck in Birmingham. He needs playing time to reach his potential and we can't offer that. Backhouse did well last year, but he needs to earn his way back on a Major League staff and at 33, it's now or never. Thomas has decent potential but we have enough pitchers.

In Collin Ford, we get a cheap alternative to Higdon's contract who's tearing apart the minors.

In the aftermath, Ford joins our starting lineup. Jasper will start in AAA-Memphis but should be with their team before the end of the year. Backhouse joins the Redbird bullpen, while Thomas reports to single A.
*******

May 18: An error filled mess, but with a catcher playing third (Ford's train wouldn't be in until late) what do you expect? Presson and 2B Simmons each had three hits as we turned a 6-3 deficit into an 8-6 lead. Ford showed up, in a borrowed uniform, to pinch hit in the eighth but grounded out. Chicago tried to rally in the top of the ninth but fell short. Blues 8-7
WP: Brown (1-1), SV: Yastrzemski (1)
*******

And yet another injury! This time it's Damien Trails with bone splinters in his pitching elbow. Gayle doesn't bother finding me or waking Hasley, but instead immediately sends for P Sean Gyle (81/85) [26] (3-2 4.35 in AAA). We'd hoped to bring him up after Spring Training, but Hasley preferred Mike King instead.
*******

May 19: A strange game - how often have I said that this year? After SP Palmer Wilson tires and gives us a 6-3 deficit, we score five in the seventh thanks primarily to Collin Ford, who hits a 2-RBI inside the park homer. A wild pitch and passed ball in the eighth gives Chicago the tie however, and so the game limped into the bottom of the ninth. We loaded the bases with no outs - and how did we score? Another passed ball. Sean Gyle pitches a scoreless ninth to earn his first career victory. Blues 9-8
WP: Gyle (1-0), HR: Ford (1)
*******

(Cutting this short, since that was a lot more trade and injury action than I bargained for.)


AL Standings
Philadelphia (28-14)
Boston (25-17) (3)
New York (21-22) (7.5)
St. Louis (21-22) (7.5)
Milwaukee (20-22) (8)
** New Orleans (20-24) (9)
Chicago (19-23) (9)
Cincinnati (16-26) (12)

[T 980]

COMMENT 1: This 10K character limit is really starting to annoy me.

COMMENT 2: It's getting harder to write about this team when it's so obvious that they're...uhm....bad. :X
*******


It could be worse. You could be last, lol. Keep up the good work!

[CatKnight]

T 980: Very true, and thanks!

*******

May 1954


We were riding pretty high after sweeping the Chicago Stars at home. Some of Gayle's old cockiness returned, and after we retired to the dugout he exchanged smiles and grins with the team...his team. I stayed out of the celebration, leaning against the brick wall by the shower with my arms folded. This was certainly his time to shine. After three tough victories in this snake bit season he deserved it.

Jokes - frequenty off-color, some outright racist and sexist (no blacks nor women on the 1954 squad), peppered the locker room. In just three short days a great weight had been lifted off the team. Slumps they could deal with. 4 1/2 months is plenty of time to catch up nine games.

"Hey, Peacock!" Gayle stepped away from the jubilant players. He gripped my elbow and smiled into my eyes. "Think I'll travel to Cincinnati after all. You mind?"

"Why would I mind? But don't you have to be here for an appointment?"

"Aw, f--- that, Peacock! We need to ride this wave while it lasts! C'mon! We're taking the team out! Do you have your wallet?"
*******

I am told that Edward Hasley's wrath at finding out 1) I'd traded away one of his top catcher prospects, and 2) Gayle refilled his 25-man roster without telling the general manager was intense. Fortunately RP Sean Gyle and 3B Collin Ford's performance made it awkward for him to try and undo our repairs. Also fortunate that I didn't have to hear it, for by the time he realized what was afoot we were herding our drunk and, in some cases, debauched crew onto a rail for Cincy.

We arrived in Cincinnati in the late morning of a cool spring day to the general relief and contempt of the rail company. Rob received some quality sleep, but that was because I'd been up all night moving up and down the player car trying to get them to rest, quiet down, or at least stop visiting the nearest passenger car to try and seduce the ladies.

Henry Daff, our third string catcher who was with the team at Ed's insistence, practiced his charm on a fifteen or sixteen year old vixen. Unlike the others he wasn't that drunk, so I didn't feel so bad when mom showed up and beat him severely with an umbrella. I don't think he'll be playing tomorrow.

The Monterosa Bowl was really better suited for football, and indeed was the home of the NAFA Cincinnati Tigers. Named after a local Indian chief from the 18th or 19th century, uncomfortable bleacher seats were moved onto the field during baseball season to help round out the stadium's shape. It was small by Major League standard - 391 to deep center, and naturally home run hitters loved it here.

New Orleans (20-24) (6th, -9g) at Cincinnati (16-26) (8th, -12g)

May 20: Brighton van Zandt and that G-D floating (Eephus) pitch of his wreaks havoc with our hitters late. After SP Kevin Martell gets bombed out early, we nickel and dime our way back into contention thanks in no small part to Collin Ford (2/4 2 RBI). We have no answer for van Zandt though and fall short. Bulldogs 8-5
LP: Martell (4-3), HR: Simmons (1)

May 21: We score nine in the top of the 9th. Cincy doesn't need to play the bottom frame. You do the math.

Even the threat of skip's shorts doesn't prevent Sutton from giving up nine runs in less than three innings. It is 17-3 Cincy after six when we begin an ambitious comeback attempt. No one can blame our hitters - Alan Hobby went 3 for 5 with 3 RBI and three others picked up 2 RBIs each. Not enough. It doesn't help that nine of the runs we give up...are unearned. Bulldogs 17-13
LP: Sutton (2-6), HR: Herskovitz (1), Hobby (3)
*******

"Mr. Pennington! How are you?"

"Mr. Hasley?" I glanced at the clock beside the bedstand. It took me several seconds to focus on the hour and minute hand. "It's one in the morning. What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, Mr. Pennington. I was just curious how the team is performing."

"Didn't you hear?"

"I meant morale wise, sir. That must have been a heart breaking loss."

I forced myself to sit up and reach for a glass of water. "Mr. Hasley, it's one in the morning."

"So we've established!" He sounded chipper. Perhaps he just worked better at night? "Now the team, sir. What is happening?"

"They're a little disheartened I suppose." After winning three in a row, losing the next two and slipping eleven games behind the league lead could be a bit... "They're frustrated."

"As am I, Mr. Pennington. Now, I've talked to Mr. Gayle and we feel perhaps you should manage tomorrow's game."

"Today's." Then I shook my head. "What? Where's Rob going?"

"Oh, he'll be there to advise you, but I think you should try your luck again. You've done well enough so far."
*******

Gayle glared at me as I walked into the clubhouse in the morning. Sutton was in the clubhouse laundry room - I had to grin at that, but Gayle didn't stormed towards me and I turned to him.

"What the hell did you tell that jackass?" he hissed.

"Eh?" I took a step back from his obvious fury and narrowly avoided getting a finger jabbed in my face.

"If you think you can take this team from me, you cocksucker,then I have news for you. I'll see you hanging from the God damned flagpole before..."

"Wait a minute! What are you talking about?"

"Hasley!" he snarled.

"Yeah, he called. He said that..."

"He said that maybe I should let you try," Gayle snarled. At that moment OF Scott Presson walked in, gave our argument a curious look, then started drinking from the water fountain just within hearing range. "He said that you felt the team needed a new direction."

"I said no such thing! He told me that you agreed to it!"

"That's ********!" He pointed at Presson. "You! What the f--- are you doing?"

"Drinking?" asked the flustered player.

"Do it elsewhere! Then get me my hat and jacket! Never mind, I'll get it. You want my job, Peacock? I'm certainly not going to help you do it. *I* am going to the hotel!" He gave me a hard shove and stormed away.
*******

May 22: "Not as easy as it looks, eh?" Gayle demanded when I got back from our loss. Actually this time the defense did pretty well, but our exhausted offense floundred. Matt Bennett, filling in at short, gave us our only RBI as Widdop pitched seven solid, but futile innings. Bulldogs 4-2
LP-Widdop (0-4)

Just to add to our woes, now it's Alan Hobby (74) [29] on the DL. Hobby wrenched his shoulder and will miss about three weeks. He's batting .250 3-11 on the season. This came just in time for Will Thirlwell to take back his 3B role. He was batting .278 1-11 before getting injured, but Doc warned his recovery might be slow.

[CatKnight]

Late May 1954


Well, Rob and I have found a way to co-exist. We avoid each other.

Ed Hasley apparently isn't done fooling around. He's talking about changes to the 25-man roster at the end of the month. From what he says, apparently three catchers on the Major League roster isn't enough. He also continues to have reservations about Sean Gyle in relief.

The injury bug has bit us hard. We currently have six men from the Major League roster on the disabled list. Of course we're slowly losing ground, but as June approaches I'm beginning to sense this is a lost season.

I think Rob suspects it too.
*******

New Orleans (20-27) (7th, -11g) at Milwaukee (22-23) (4th, -8g)

May 24: Palmer Wilson gets a complete game, allowing only one run (a sac fly) as our offense sparks back into life after our day off. It's 14-0 by the time Wilson falters. Thirlwell's first day back from the DL is monumental: 3 for 6 with 5 RBI. Dan Baucom (4/5) and Presson also earn three RBI each as we earn nineteen singles, two doubles, five walks, oh..and 16 runs. Blues 16-1
WP: Wilson (3-0)

May 25: A much closer game, as three unearned runs give Milwaukee a 6-4 lead entering the seventh. An error loads the bases for us in the top of the ninth, when Brewer P Maxwell Rowe gives up two singles and an error to put us ahead for good. Herskovitz, trying to prove he belongs here, goes 2 for 2 with 2 walks and 2 runs. Blues 7-6
WP: Yastrzemski (2-2), SV: Botting (4)

May 26: Sutton earns his first victory in God knows how long, but only because the Brews are even worse. He gives up 4 runs in 5.1 innings, but Yastrzemski slams the door in Milwaukee's face. OF Mark Wirtz, giving Bill Sawyer a day off, goes 4 for 4 (two doubles) as we edge past Milwaukee for the sweep. Blues 5-4
WP: Sutton (3-6), SV: Yastrzemski (3)
*******

All that really accomplished was knocking Milwaukee down, as the Philadelphia Eagles on top of our league remain extremely dangerous, but baby steps. For the second straight week Gayle avoids his Thursday appointment: "You'd like that, wouldn't you Peacock!?"

Deja vu. A train ride out of Milwaukee heading eastward, drifting through the pitch black, even terrain of northwestern Ohio. Gayle tries to rest, absently rubbing his stomach.

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask finally.

He glares at me, but says nothing.

"I'm not sure why you don't believe me, but I did not call Hasley. Last week was his idea, not mine."

More glaring.

"And anyway it worked out, didn't it? You've won six of your last eight. The team's solidly behind you now. Plus, Doc says Mick and Dobry are about to come back. They'll be waiting for us when we get home." OF Rich Mick was batting .326 2-19 when he went on the DL, SS Jeff Dobry .314 0-19 with 10 SB. "The only problem will be deciding who to send down. Some of our bench players are really..."

"I'm sure Hasley will deal with that," he said. He picked up his drink, frowned at it, then carefully put it down again.

"I did not call Hasley," I insisted.

"Fah." He turned his evil eye out the window. "I know, Peacock. I'm not a complete idiot. I'm just sitting here trying to figure out what he's up to."

I shook my head. "Maybe just what he said. He wanted to shake the team up. Not that he was right," I said as he turned back to me, "..just..."

He shook his head. "Hasley doesn't give a crap about this team. Never has. He don't care if we win or lose. No...something's up, and we won't know what it is until we get back. If then."
*******

New Orleans (23-27) (6th, -9g) at Boston (28-20) (2nd, -3g)

May 28: Well..maybe we'll get all our bad pitching out of the way at once? Widdop doesn't last two innings, and Boston OF Ray Tindle hits the hardest inside-the-park homer I've ever seen..345 feet off left, then bouncing PAST LF Presson thirty feet before we can respond. Overall not a good day. Pilgrims 9-3
LP- Widdop (0-5)

May 29: Wilson puts in a pathetic performance and we trail 8-1 entering the eighth. Two four-run rallies, led by Ford, Baucom and Herskovitz (2 RBI each), put us on top 9-8 but they tie it in the ninth. Lucas Rovai, who allowed the tie, now gives Boston the win by walking Ray Tindle to start the tenth. Two consecutive singles later and the game ends. Pilgrims 10-9 (10)
LP- Rovai (0-3)

May 30: Martell leaves after 1 inning trailing 3-1. We battle back to a 4-3 lead, but they run away with it at that point. Overall an annoying game where none of our four pitchers do the team credit. Pilgrims 10-4
LP- Brown (1-2)

[CatKnight]

May 31, 1954

Standings
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/0554standings.png

Leaderboards
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/0554leaders.png

Milestones
5/20: BUF- RF Aaron Heim (90) [35] (.333 3-38 8) - 1000 RBI
5/23: MIL- CF Jason Purcell (72) [39] (.370 7-45 1) - 1500 RBI

Trades (non NWO)
5/3: BRO-BOS: RF Homer Lyle (68/70) [23] (Last played 1951)
BRO-BOS: SP Dan Finch (74) [35] (Last played in 1953)
BRO-BOS: Two minor leaguers (CF, P)
BOS-BRO: SP Brendan Sherman (80/82) [27] (Last played 1951)
BOS-BRO: SP Tony Crockett (82) [33] (Last played 1953)

* A pack of people who have been in the Minors all season. Curious. Looks like the short term winner in Brooklyn.

Injuries (min 2 mo.)
5/10: NYT - SP Jeffrey Niles (79) [36] (1-4 4.94 2 SV) - 3 months
5/14: CLE - CF Colin McDuffie (80) [25] (.344 3-32 9) - 3 months
5/17: NWO - 3B James Higdon (73) [32] (.279 0-8 1) - 3 months
5/18: CLE - SP Dave Lounsbury (80/82) [29] (Last played 1953) - 4 months
5/26: STL - 1B Joseph Hesson (79) [35] (301 3-22 6) - 3 months

Retirements (since April, minimum 1 award)

SP Joe McQuinn (Age 37, KC Rustlers)
1953: 8-12 4.25 7 SV
Career: 86-83 4.34 51 CG 10 SV, 448 K
Teams: Green Sox (41-42), Redbirds (43-48), Green Sox (49-50), Rustlers (51-53)
Awards: All Star (48)

1B Peter Doty (Age 38, Brooklyn)
1953: .282 2-66 8 for PHI - Signed as FA 1/10, Released 4/9
Career: .315 30-1237 333, 2572 H
Teams: Green Sox (38-42), Whalers (43), Rustlers (44-51), Eagles (52-53)
Awards: Gold Glove (43, 45); All Star (47, 49, 51-52)
* Not bad for a 3rd round draftee *

RP Chris Evans (Age 37, Kansas City)
1954: 0-0 0.00 0 (in 0.2 IP) - Released 5/13
Career: 70-64 4.14 14 CG 62 SV, 286 K
Teams: Pilgrims (42-45), Kings (46-48), Titans (49-53), Rustlers (54)
Awards: All Star (44)

SP Mark Leland (Age 35, Kansas City)
1953: 1-2 3.98 1 CG - Released by BRO 4/9. Signed as FA 4/12. Released by KC 5/13
Career: 88-65 4.39 52 CG 3 SV, 346 K
Teams: Bears (42), Stars (45-48), Bombers (49-53)
Awards: All Star (50, 52)

RF Rich Atkinson (Age 38, St. Louis)
1953: .284 4-48 2 with CHW - Released by STL 4/8
Career: .307 59-712 74 SB, 1295 H
Teams: Canaries (40), Pilgrims (42-43), Canaries (44-48), Pilgrims (49-52), Whalers (53)
Awards: All Star (52)

[CatKnight]

Team Stats

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/0554teamstats.png



Catcher: D'Anorade and Bevilacqua have more or less split time behind the plate. Currently D'Anorade's seized the upper hand, though Lee Bevilacqua's seen a little time at third.

First Base: Dan Baucom's held the position for much of the year and has been effective. Bennett continues to serve as a strong backup and has also played short.

Infield: Injuries wrecked our infield, and so the positions here will see a great deal of change in coming days. SS Jeff Dobry is ready to come off the DL, and Chuck Clark will follow in four days. How this will play out is anyone's guess.

Outfield: Similarly, Rich Mick is ready to come back. Are starting outfielders aren't quite as impressive - Presson is a great power hitter, but doesn't really get on base enough. Sawyer is even worse.

Starters: Our pitchers suck. The only exception appears to be Mike King, who's seen almost no action in May. First Damien Trails (on the DL) and now King are the only starters with an ERA below FIVE. Our relievers aren't much better, though in fairness they're exhausted.

*******

Changes:

Despite an impressive .529 average, OF Mike Wirtz returns to Birmingham, as does SS Chris Herskovitz. Dobry and Mick return to the starting lineup while OF Royce Anderson goes to the bench. It also looks like C Bevilacqua will once more take his place in the starting lineup.

In the aftermath of Widdop's continued failure, Torben becomes our setup reliever. King moves up to # 4, while Luke Yastrzemski is our new #5 starter. I would probably like to do more, personally, but it was hard enough to get these changes past both Hasley and Gayle.

[OldYankFan]

I'm a big Mike King fan, he and Yaz are your most effective pitchers. King needs to pitch even if its out of the pen or in the minors!

[gosensgo101]

5 update day!

That made a bad day decent.

[RobToxin]

Wow.

Just read this whole thing. Great story. The inner workings of a franchise with front office turmoil spilling out onto the field. What will happen next?

[PotatoOfCouch13]

Not bad competitive balance for 50+ years into a sim. What settings are you using?

[CatKnight]

OldYankFan: I agree. Fortunately King and Yaz should both get some playing time, at least for awhile. They're both in the starting rotation.

gosensgo: 5? Wow. I guess I was excited about having an idea where I wanted to go with this going forward. I'm glad it helped your day!

RobToxin: Thanks for reading! Yes, I'm focusing here on the inner workings of a...well..dysfunctional organization and whether or not we can get it back on track.

PotatoofCouch: Lessee.... Equalized cities

League: Promotion 30/50/70/90 Contracts 30/30, Trades -30,
Stats vs Scout 50, Revenue 20 Injury Freq -10 Med Staff -100
Scouting Equalized

Players: College Plyrs 20, Aging Random. 50, Draft Predict. -50
Potential (Upside) -20, Player Personality -50/-100

Strictly as far as parity goes, things seem to be working well. There have been some fairly long dynasties and there are definite haves and have nots, but the league is very stable.

If I had to do it again, I'd probably pay much closer attention to how the stats developed though. There are numerous inconsistencies with '50s ball. I'm trying to swallow that as how baseball may have developed in another universe, but...hm. ;)

[CatKnight]

May-June 1954


"Mr. Pennington. It's good to see you again." Jeffrey Himes reached across the desk of his office, grimacing slightly, and shook my hand. "It is my arthritis," he said by way of explanation. "The doctors say the humidity aggravates it and I would be happier in a drier clime." He shook his head. "I was born here. I expect I will die here as well."

Himes' office was oppressively clean. A single painting adorned the wall depicting an unknown plantation. Flowers lined the lawn, which was in turn dominated by a tree in full spring bloom with pink flowers and buds. Under it sat a brass plaque from the New Orleans Chamber of Commerce. His desk, three chairs and a sidetable completed the room. No decorations, no folders, no books, no papers, just a name plaque on his desk with an attached pen holder which in turn sat on a pale brown blotter.

"Thank you for seeing me so quickly," I replied, sitting back. "As you know, we have a game tonight against the Eagles and I'll need to prepare for that soon."

Minor, polite pleasantries as I gathered thoughts, but it quickly became appearent Himes didn't like meaningless talk. After two or three minutes he drew his pen and lightly tapped the blotter with the head, waiting for me to finish my take on what the papers were calling the Boston Massacre.

"Yes, one would expect that after fifty years the papers would get tired of that joke," he said. "What can I do for you today, Tyler?"

"Sir, I came to talk to you about Mr. Hasley. I know you asked me not to subvert him, but..."

"He told me about your faux pas with the Ford trade. I am certain you felt the need to bring us the best third baseman you could find under the circumstances and I explained that to him. All I would ask is that you contact him before pulling the..."

"No, Mr. Himes. It's not that." I told him about Hasley's request that I manage a game in Cincinnati, that supposedly Gayle agreed to the idea, and Rob's surprise and anger when told I suggested it. "As you can imagine it took us some time to sort that out, sir. I know he's your friend, but..."

"His friendship is neither here nor there," he said shortly. Himes sat rigidly, his pen frozen in mid-tap a fraction of an inch from the blotter. Cold blue eyes pierced mine like a living, breathing lie detector. "I cannot answer for him, but I will quote you a line that has served me well in my life: Never assume malignant intent when ignorance or error will answer. No doubt there was some confusion."

"I'm sure."

He frowned at my tone and his eyes grew colder still. "If it will help, however, then I will be happy to speak to Mr. Hasley when I see him tonight."

*******

"...and that is why Mr. Gayle isn't using me much," said the radio as I drove along the coast, a hot but no less refreshing salt breeze slanting in through my window, "because he's afraid I'll steal all the pretty girls from the other players!"

Huh? I turned it up as the announcer replied: "Henry, the team didn't do to well in Boston. Do you think we could have done anything different to win?"

"Besides let me play?" laughed Daff, our third (fourth? sixth?) string catcher. "No. No, let me be honest here. Skip is an alright guy. His assistant's a bit uptight, but...."

Uptight? That son of a... I glared at the freeway. President Eisenhower's proposed highway system would connect major cities in the US, partially to encourage the use of automobiles but primarily to assist in home defense. Right now the freeway consisted of two lanes per side within New Orleans - really just straightening and smoothing out the existing road between Pensacola, New Orleans and Houston. Supposedly work crews ere working to widen the road through rural areas as well.

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/highways1955.jpg
US Highway System (under construction and planned) - September 1955

"I'm looking forward to Philadelphia," Daff continued. "Those Eagles won't know what hit 'em! I think we're going to pluck some feathers!"

Sure, *******. Make them angry. "Out of my way!" I shouted at a 1945 Volvo flatbed.

"Well, that's all we have time for today! Special thanks to the Voice of the Blues, Tulane University's own Henry Daff. Next we have..."

I never found out what was next, for a siren drowned out the DJ. I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw flashing orange lights. Sigh.

*******

"Hey, 'Voice!'" I called to the twenty-three year old catcher as he dressed for the game. "Let's take a walk!" I threw my crumpled ticket ($6.50 - what do they think I'm made of, money?) and grabbed his elbow. Clean cut, wavy brown/blond hair, dazzling smile. I could well imagine all the pretty girls falling for him...if I didn't knock his teeth out first. "Nice interview."

"You heard it?" He grinned, oblivious or apathic to my anger. "Yeah, Uncle Ed thought it'd be a great idea to get my name out there."

"Uncle...Ed? Hasley?"

Daff nodded and my heart sunk. I knew Ed wanted him on the team because he was a local boy. I didn't know it went beyond that. "I didn't know Ed had a....sister?"

"Right! He said something about having a face made for radio. I have another interview on Thursday before the Chicago series. Be nice and I'll put in a good word for you!" He winked and pointed his finger at me like a gun, then fired.

I bit off three retorts in rapid succession. "Did Ed say why he wanted you to give interviews?"

He shook his head. "He tried to explain it to me, but it sounded boring. Hey, can I go? I'm supposed to sign some balls and hand them out before the game." Daff winked and 'shot' me again before leaving.

"Hey, 'Voice!"

He turned curiously.

"Do you like rock and roll?"

"Who doesn't?" This time instead of shooting me he waved.

"I'm not surprised," I muttered. This rock and roll nonsense is wrecking the next generation.

[gosensgo101]

lol...defense highways

[RandyTiger]

I'd like to see them use those things in/around big cities for defense with traffic jams the norm (as in LA, etc.) Sure, tanks can turn cars into trashcans fairly easily, but there's only so many of those beasts around, and you can't exactly whiz down the freeway while doing the converting...

@CatKnight: Keep up the excellent storytelling. So easy to read and full of intrigue! *thumbs up*

[CatKnight]

gosensgo101: Tis true! While much of the birth of our national highway system came due to pressure from automakers, Eisenhower also thought of it as a way to quickly move troops around in an emergency.

RandyTiger: Glad you're enjoying it!
*******

June 1954


"Mr. Hasley!" I called as the door to the Blues' front office opened. I stood as he paused at my doorway. "The draft?"

"Yes, Mr. Pennington, I haven't forgotten," he said testily. Ed looked tired, his shirt open at collar and both sleeves and his jacket over his shoulder. "Gather your notes and come with me."

I glanced at the clock: One thirty. The draft he hadn't forgotten began at noon. Fortunately we picked fourth and the New York Kings couldn't seem to make up their mind, but still... I grabbed my list and followed him in.


Hasley threw his jacket over his chair and turned. "Let me see here. Yes..yes..accept...no pitchers, sir?"

I shook my head. "There's no need for more. We have so many as it is..."

"And most of them will wash out, Mr. Pennington. We both know that." He sighed and sat down. "My word, it is a warm day. Pray turn that fan on, will you? Why Marge took today off I cannot answer."

I obeyed, then sat across from him. "The reason most wash out is because they don't get enough training and development time in the minors, and the reason for that is there are too many for our pitching coaches to keep up with. Without playing time it's that much harder for us to judge who may be ready to bring up and..."

"Posh. You don't hear the other teams complaining they can't develop their pitchers, Mr. Pennington. Each team keeps looking for that hidden gem - the Tod Cripes or Brad Hamnetts that..."

"And you don't think that the fact there are only two pitchers in the Hall of Fame means conventional wisdom might be wrong?"

His face set. "I am not here to argue, sir." He thumped my list with a knuckle. "At least one pitcher. First round."

"First round!?"

"Yes." His eyes narrowed. "I am sure you were very clever in your outlaw league, but these are the Majors. I will teach you what I know, but I will not have my judgement constantly called into question!"

"I wasn't..." I yanked back my list and glared at it. "As long as we're talking about pitchers, Sutton's ERA is over seven, and Martell's almost six. I would like to..."

"No."

"Ed!"

"Mister Pennington, Sutton and Martell are the hearts of our rotation. I am well aware that you would demote them, but what you fail to understand - what you have never understood is that changing our roster this way and that with the changing winds is a certain recipe for failure. Clubhouse morale will plummet and..."

"Yes, clubhouse morale is doing so well since we settled into seventh place."

"Enough! They stay on the roster. If you are that concerned about them starting, then maybe you should be having this conversation with Mr. Gayle. If he wants them in the bullpen then that is not my concern!"

"Speaking of..." I hesitated. Hasley lifted his head and glared at me, his nostrils flaring slightly. So, Mr. Himes talked to him after all.

The phone rang once, twice, three times as we stared at each other. Finally he picked up the receiver and listened. "Yes? Yes. Just a moment." He passed the phone to me. "They want our first pick."

I grabbed the black receiver and held it to my ear. "Yes...yes....No." I frowned at Hasley. "No, that's changed. We'll be taking a pitcher. Yes, just like everyone else. Who's left?"

*******

Blues Draft Picks

1. SP Todd Bright (75/91) [19] (7-1 3.72 6 CG in HS)
* End 93 Ctr 65 Pwr 52 Mv 74 / Def 89 Hit 84 Hlt 77
* Average player. Tons of potential and good work habits
* Will start in AA

2. CF Phil Feller (73/85) [21] (.310 2-23 10 SB in College)
* Con 79 Pwr 60 Spd 79 Eye 97 / Arm 96 Rg 77 Fld 66 Hlt 87
* Above average potential with below average power. Trouble with breaking pitches.
* Will start in AA

3. 2B Dave Girard (61/80) [18] (.442 1-25 7 SB in HS)
* Con 71 Pwr 60 Spd 79 Eye 97 / Arm 78 Rg 57 Fld 56 Hlt 83
* Above average potential, excellent speed, outstanding patience.
* Will start in A

4. C Taylor Garside (66/77) [19] (.410 3-22 5 SB in HS)
* Con 69 Pwr 56 Spd 81 Eye 68 / Arm 95 Hndl 85 Fld 58 Hlt 81
* Above average potential with average eye. Holes in swing.
* Will start in AA

5. 3B Matthew Foster (60/75) [18] (.361 4-23 6 SB in HS)
* Con 65 Pwr 58 Spd 87 Eye 70 / Arm 68 Rg 71 Fld 64 Hlt 79
* Average potential with below avg power. May be a useful backup in time.
* Will start in A

6. SS Bryan Boone (56/71) [19] (.333 0-23 4 SB in HS)
* Con 64 Pwr 60 Spd 81 Eye 78 / Arm 66 Rg 60 Fld 63 Hlt 75
* Below avg potential and power. Potential backup in time.
* Will start in R

******

Philadelphia (33-18) (1st, +2g) at New Orleans (23-30) (7th, -11g)

5/31: Sutton pitches. He lasts 1.2 innings. Only one of our four pitchers on the day doesn't make it worse. Philly starter Guy Tillis pitches a complete game. That really says it all, doesn't it? Eagles 8-2
LP-Sutton (3-7)

6/1: This time it's our Palmer Wilson with the complete game. Scott Presson leads the way with 2 RBI as we tie the series. Blues 4-2
WP-Wilson (4-0), HR-Baucom (6)

6/2: We take King out trailing 4-3. Big mistake, as by the end of the inning we trail 7-3. A massive slug- and errorfest follows as we combine for nine errors and thirty-six hits including five home runs. Again our relievers fail to alleviate the matter as, of five pitchers, four give up at least three runs each. On our side Presson earns three RBI while Dan Baucom goes 4 for 6 with 3 runs. Eagles 18-11
LP-King (2-2), HR-Bevilacqua (4), Presson (8)

*******

"Oh yeah, we would have taken that last game if I caught!" gloated Henry Daff on the radio in my GM's office. I frowned at it as he continued: "Lee's a great guy to have around, but he's been in the league a long time. Maybe it's time for us to try some new ideas for a change!"

"That much we agree with," I muttered.

I heard a knock and looked up. Doc Rabbone paused and removed his fedora. "Tyler, do you have a moment?"

"Of course. I was going to talk to you about Chuck anyway." Chuck Clark, our second baseman, had just rejoined the active roster. "We won't use him tonight, but I'm hoping by tomorrow..."

"Oui, he is eager to play again." He flicked his hand in my direction and walked in. "As for the others, they will heal in time. There is no news to report."

I nodded and leaned back, indicating the seat across from my desk. "Then what can I do for you?"

"It is Rob. Coach Gayle." He frowned. "He says that you need him at the field tonight? That you are not comfortable running the team after your last loss?"

"I never said..."

"Because I have to tell you in all gravity, Tyler, that these appointments are vital to..."

"I never said I needed him at the field!" Then I remembered: "Thursday."

He nodded.

"What are these appointments?"

"I cannot say, sir. I am very sorry."

I didn't like that, but I'd have to take up that argument another day. "And he's refusing to go because he's needed?"

"Yes."

I frowned. "As far as I'm concerned, if he needs these appointments as you say, then of course I can manage the team any time he needs."

He brightened. "Good!" He bolted to his feet. "I thought this might be a ruse de guerre, but I wanted to be sure. Then I will insist he come with me!" He turned for the door.

"Doc! If you won't tell me what's going on, can you at least tell me if he's okay?"

He cast me a troubled look, held his hand out flat and rocked it back and forth. "The fat lady has not sung, sir."

*******

Chicago (28-27) (3rd, -7.5g) at New Orleans (24-32) (7th, -12g)

3: I start Yastrzemski instead of Martell and the gamble pays off. He tires in the seventh having sacrificed the lead, but I suspect it isn't the disaster it might have been otherwise. It gives us a chance to rally in the bottom of the eight when both Royce Anderson and Tom Simmoms make it home. Mike Hanley pitches two perfect innings for the win. Blues 5-3
WP-Hanley (2-1)
*******

Every other time I've covered for him, Gayle's waited on his porch to yell at me or at least ask how things went. Tonight his room is dark, his porch silent. The next day he looks tired and shaky, as if fighting some sort of bug.

*******

4: Martell gets his start..and leaves before the fourth inning is over trailing 5-3. Fortunately we give up no more earned runs (albeit five errors nearly answer for us several times.) Slowly we limp back into contention and tie it in the eighth on a Seth D'Anorade single. On to extra innings where the Stars and Blues trade scoring chances until the twelfth when Scott Presson hits a one out double and scores on Lee Bevilacqua's hit. Blues 8-7 (12)
WP-Brown (2-2)

5: Sutton...does well! This time we chase Chicago's starter out before the third inning is over and it's their reliever who in turn shuts us down. Chicago can never really get off the ground though, scoring only twice. Presson, Bevilacqua and a rehabiliated Clark combine for all six of our RBI. Blues 6-2
WP-Sutton (4-7), HR-Clark (1)
*******

After the game Josh Sutton gave me a triumphant 'told you so' look as he headed for his locker.

"Hey, Sutton!"

He sighed audibly and turned, absently rolling his right shoulder.

"Good job today!"

Sutton's brow arched, then he gave me a short smile and walked away.

*******

Standings through June 6 (off day)
Boston (36-22)
Philadelphia (36-22)

Chicago (28-30) (8)
New York (28-30) (8)
St. Louis (28-30) (8)

New Orleans (27-32) (9.5)
Milwaukee (26-31) (9.5)

Cincinnati (23-35) (13)

[CatKnight]

COMMENTARY: For those of you not interested in analysis or the strengths and weaknesses of fictional (vs historical/modern) dynasties, you can safely skip this post. Our story continues shortly.

As you may have noticed if you read between the lines, I've grown more and more concerned that my 1950s ball players act like it's the late deadball era. Power is down. Errors are far above normal. Batting average seems a little high. I recently re-acquired BM07 on the premise that it handled fictional play much better and ran it through a similar 53 year 'hands off' period starting in 1901. The results were...interesting.

Parity



Wins by Team, 1953:
BM 07: 87 84 90 57 85 85 73 55 89 83 65 60 67 104 70 78 / Noll-Scully: 2.22
BM 10: 61 97 75 74 64 79 63 75 77 76 83 93 71 103 81 60 / Noll-Scully: 2.01


I expected 07 to fare much worse, actually. Lacking the last three years of tweaks to finances and expense handling, I thought that despite 'equalized cities' 07 would lose cohesion without human intervention. A N/S rating of 2.22 (or 2.01) is high for modern play, but not far from what you'd expect in the 1950s.



Pennants by Team through 1953:
BM 07: 17 13 12 11 9 8 6 6 5 4 4 3 3 3 2 0
BM 10: 13 13 13 11 11 10 9 6 5 4 3 3 2 2 1 0


Which version of the game creates harder to beat dynasties? Mixed news here. The BM07 universe had one truly obnoxious team that has won nearly a third of all its league's pennants, but once you get past that the distribution through the rest of the league is better.

Overall Talent Level

After much tweaking of the rookie.ini file, I was able to convince BM07 to stop giving me so many power pitchers in the draft (something I've yet to convince BM10 to do). After these tweaks the talent level averages out as follows:



Overall Talent of: (30/60/90) - 30th etc. strongest player in league. (Pos) - 8th ranked (average) starter
30 60 90 - P C 1B 2B 3B SS LF CF RF
BM 07 88 86 85 - 90 79 82 83 83 80 81 86 83
BM 10 86 84 83 - 87 82 80 79 81 77 83 82 82


The BM 10 league seems a little weaker...which isn't a bad thing since one of the things we're trying to stop here is excess inflation where every team has players with 90 OVR. Overall here a slight nod to BM10's extra settings for player development - but not by much. In '07 manipulating the rookies.ini file has much greater effect (and therefore offers greater control) than '10.

Leaderboards

If you're not seeing too much difference so far, you're right. Let's look at how the outliers are doing.



Historical BM 07 BM 10
Career Season 1953 / Career Season 1953 / Career Season 1953
Wins 511 41 23 / 250* 30* 20 / 241 25 20
ERA 1.82 0.96 2.10 / 2.47* 1.59* 2.22* / 3.12 2.05 2.54
K 3509 349 198 / 1697 208* 130* / 1982* 198 106
Saves 107 27 27 / 215 32 32* / 200* 23* 11

BAvg ,366 .421 .344 / .362* .420* .351* / .371 .442 .402
HR 714 60 47 / 415 43 29 / 450* 60* 40*
RBI 2217 191 145 / 2135* 174 151* / 1839 203* 132
SB 912 96 26 / 876* 58 34* / 814 91* 70


A mixed bag, but outliers clearly favor BM07. The asterisks denote which 'league' was closer to the actual historical record through 1953. Interestingly, BM10's biggest victory was one of the areas I had the most doubt: Raw power and home runs.

[b]Average Performance

Here's where things get interesting. Since my BM 10 season is up through early June '54, I did the same for BM '07. I've added the historical averages for comparison, but the numbers are..out there.



Hist BM07 BM10
BAvg .261 .272 .288
ERA 3.90 4.07 4.29
Fld .977 .959 .954

BM (any version) having higher offense than expected is a well known issue, though now we could argue that it might be getting worse. More worrying perhaps are those fielding totals which confirm what I suspected - these people are playing like deadballers.

As I pondered that,it occured to me that since both games started in 1901, perhaps the fictional generator didn't "realize" it should change character creation parameters over time. I didn't think the player creation method changed over time, and that BM instead relied on modifiers to simulate different eras...but it now seems I'm wrong.

To test this theory I started a fresh game in BM07 and ran from 2006-2059 - the same time period. At the end I saw more players with fielding in the 70s and 80s, vs. 60s in both of my original leagues. The average fielding percentage? .983

This is worth looking at, as along with other suspected issues about fictional player creation, if whatever algorithim is used doesn't change with time then long term leagues where the style of play changes (such as dead ball vs. modern) becomes implausible.

[b]Pitchers

As noted before, through radical intervention with the '07 rookies.ini file I was able to stop pitchers from dominating each draft, a feat I haven't matched in BM 10 as of yet. In my BM10 league, players have commented that pitchers almost never make the HoF. How did they do here?

[code]
Pitchers Fielders
BM 07 13 19
BM 10 2 62


You may argue that 32 players in 53 years makes for a pretty elitist HoF, and I'd probably agree...but that distribution of fielders to pitchers looks much better, doesn't it? I suspect the difference is that with less pitchers dominating the draft, those that do have high peaks have more chance to develop in the minors (more playing time) and so develop more properly.

Conclusion

None really. Given the endorsement of some people for BM07's fictional player creation system I was curious to see how things would have developed differently. As you see, perhaps not as different as I thought in areas that worried me (fielding and power). If there is an issue about historical/fictional leagues playing in different eras though, so that players in a game starting in 1901 will always have bad fielding regardless of the year, then that should probably be looked at.

Oh well, on with the show!

[CatKnight]

June 1954

We caught a Sunday flight to New York to meet up with the Kings. This was a rare treat: The only times we fly is if the train has no real chance of getting us to the game on time, and we had Sunday the 6th off. Flying is obviously far more expensive, especially since our team including staff takes up a sizeable percentage of a commercial aircraft.

Rob Gayle arranged for us to sit in first class - a bit of a surprise since this meant yet more expense, and he didn't strike me as that elitist. Then again, Rob preferred to sit separately from the players on trains as well. Therefore once the stewardess gave us the all clear to wander the cabin I stepped back long enough to make sure the players were well taken care of, then rejoined Rob.

We were alone in front of the aircraft except for a pair of businessmen who took this opportunity to sleep, snoring softly with heads back on airline supplied pillows, one with his briefcase open across his knees. I glanced inside but saw nothing overly interesting.

"Peacock." Rob spoke quietly, subdued. He'd declined the airline's offer of food and had sat in silence until now. "You're doing well when you manage the team."

"Only because I've watched you," I said quickly.

He grimaced and shook his head. "Don't patronize. Never patronize anyone. It's not worth it." He closed his eyes and leaned back. The lines on his face seemed starker, more clear cut today.

"Are you..."

"I've looked over your lineups," Rob interrupted me. "Radical, but they appear to work. I'd like to try it with some small changes against the Kings."

"Yes, sir."

"And I've also taken much of your advice regarding our rotation," he continued. "Oh...oh hell!" He choked, then covered his mouth with both hands.

"Doc!" I bellowed, waking the businessmen.

By the time Rabbone appeared, Gayle was waving us both off while holding an airline paper bag to his mouth.

"Let me see," the doctor insisted, reaching for the bag.

Gayle shook his head rapidly. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he retched - a dry retch though. "Airsick!" he gasped.

Rabbone frowned. "Then you won't mind taking your medicine." He took a small pill bottle from his jacket pocket. Rob glared, but wolfed down the pills without further comment.

"Good. Now, coach," addressing me. "I would let Coach Gayle sleep for the rest of the flight."

"I'm fine!" he retorted, life returning to his voice as he flushed. "Sit down, Peacock!"

"I will," I promised. "I just want to check on everyone again first." As I hoped, by the time I drifted back half an hour later, he'd fallen asleep.
********

Actually he'd taken all my advice about the rotation, including the bits I threw in knowing full well he would never pass under usual circumstances. Martell and Sutton were now long relievers. Widdop returned to the rotation in the 5 slot with Mike Hanley joining the starters.

Several players wanted answers after all these changes, but Rob responded by simply closing his door and refusing to deal with any of them. This meant they tried to get me to talk. I was still stunned at Gayle's sudden reversal and replied with platitudes... 'we're trying new things to keep our streak going.' Most understood. Some, like Josh Sutton, didn't. Our two day truce ended with sharp words and sharper glares.

*******

New Orleans (27-32) (6th, -9.5g) at New York (28-30) (3rd-T, -8g)

7: Jeff Dobry cost Wilson his complete game with a ninth inning error that led to two unearned runs, but nothing can stop our fourth straight win - our first such streak this year I believe. Collin Ford's three-run blast gives ua 5-1 lead in the fourth. Wilson gets into numerous jams, but up until the ninth he escaped all of them unscathed. Blues 6-3
WP-Wilson (5-0), SV-Botting (5), HR-Ford (2)

8: After Dobry sent the first pitch of this game into the bleachers I had a good feeling. Mike King was once more magnificent, his performance marred by four runs in the eighth that were a direct result of back-to-back Chuck Clark errors at second. On offense Clark and Rich Mick made a deadly combination, with the former getting 3 runs and the latter 4 RBI. Blues 9-5
WP-King (3-2), HR-Dobry (1)

9: Around the fourth inning I was thinking 'Here we go again'. We'd lost Yastrzemski in the second, and were up to our old tricks of playing small ball badly and getting thrown out on the basepaths. Sean Gyle, our reliever with an ERA of over 12, came in to eat up innings and performed...spectacularly. By the time he tired after six innings work, we'd scored sixteen runs - 7 in the 5th, 4 in the 6th and 5 in the 7th. Bevilacqua and Simmons anchored the heart of our order with 4 RBI days. Royce Anderson went 5 for 6 and three other batters earned four hits. Four batters scored three runs. In the end we had 25 hits. Blues 18-9
WP-Gyle (2-0), HR-Simmons (2), Anderson (1)

*******

And so another treat - another flight, right back home to New Orleans. Gayle seemed more energetic now than he had when the trip began, and more thoughtful as well. As unorthodox as my lineups were...we were on a six game winning streak and actually marching our way up the standings. We had a long, open conversation about baseball, strategies, tactics and so forth without the least bit of rhetoric or attitude.

It occured to me this might be the first time he was really treating me as an equal, as a co-conspirator and not a nuisance. I wanted to take advantage of his goodwill and finally ask what the hell was wrong with him, but instinct told me that would just make him shut down or shut me out. Indeed, the one troubled silence in our conversation came when Doc Rabbone came with his pills.

Whether he wanted to shut me out or not, I was up just after dawn and waiting in the sitting room when Rob Gayle descended the stairs of our boarding house on the morning of June 10, a Thursday. Physically he looked well enough, though I could read the strain on his face. He cast a furtive glance around, spotted me, grimaced and slammed his fedora over his head before stalking to the door.

"Rob!"

He walked outside. I chased him into the street. "Rob!"

Gayle turned and scowled, yesterday's camaraderie forgotten. "What is it, Peacock? We have the day off. Don't you need to go work with Hasley or something?"

"Later." I stopped a few feet away. "Do you...do you want company?"

"No."

*******

Not much happened at the office. Riding a six game winning streak, Hasley was less inclined to make a deal than ever. Around lunch time he did poke his head in, however, and invited me out.

New Orleans in June is hot. We were both sweating heavily - him more so for his insistence on wearing a proper suitjacket - by the time we arrived at a local deli. "I hope you don't mind, sir, but I find the lighter fare goes better on a day like this."

I agreed. We placed our orders and found a table under the shade of an umbrella. Hasley sipped at his lemonade as we watched the people on the street: Men going to lunches of their own or meetings, women shopping, a few too many truants playing for Ed's taste. He sniffed, muttered something about the next generation and bit into pastrami.

"I understand these new lineups are your idea," he said finally, wiping his face.

"Yes. Rob agreed to give them a try and so far it's working."

"Indeed." He took a bite, breathing through his nose. "Indeed. It goes against common wisdom that lineups have little effect on the outcome of a game once you accept certain basics, sir. Nonetheless I am impressed."

"Thank you."

"And I understand Mr. Gayle is taking more direction from you on the field as well?"

"Actually not so much. He's let me set the lineups and rotation, but the on-the-field calls are all his."

Hasley smiled. "Surely you would agree that your presence has been most beneficial, however."

"Thank you?"

His smile broadened. "Sir, I think your strength lies on the field. No doubt you have many fine ideas in how to build our roster, but your strength, your calling, is on the field."

"So I should focus on that?" I asked drily.

He half bowed over his sandwich. "Let's say that I believe Mr. Gayle should retire, sooner rather than later. Keep succeeding, and I think I would be comfortable offering you the position of full time field manager."

Away from the front office.

[CatKnight]

When Rob returned that night he went straight to bed with nothing but a cup of soup from our housemistress, Mrs. Wilson, for company. I watched him silently from the sitting room. He looked like he'd just worked a sixteen hour day - with the flu. Pale, tired, even shaking a little, he hobbled up the stairs. I wanted to say something...I should have said something....I just didn't know what.

I rose and walked into the kitchen, where Mrs. Wilson was covering the rest of the soup with wrap for tomorrow. Wilson was a large woman in her forties or fifties with a sharp tongue, and she did a credible imitation of my manager as I walked in.

"What do you want, Mr. Pennington!?"

"I want to talk."

She gave me a confused look. "If you're going to spend time in my kitchen, you might as well help, sir. Onions, peppers, lettuce. Then go to the pantry and..." A surprisingly large number of spices for a salad. As I poked through the spice rack she glanced in my direction. "So? Talk."

"Rob Gayle. You make soup for him whenever he has one of his appointments. Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"His stomach," she replied. "When he gets back he can't eat anything solid. Doesn't want to eat anything. I insist though." She nodded rapidly, turned fully to face me and lifted her face proudly. "You will excuse me, Mr. Pennington, but I have found no bigger baby on God's earth than a sick man. Especially one used to taking care of himself. I've also found starving yourself just because your stomach says so is a recipe for failure."

*******

Boston (38-23) (1st-T, +0g) at New Orleans (30-32) (4th, -8.5g)

11: The first real test of my rotation changes comes from Mike Hanley. He doesn't do poorly, but nonetheless slips behind 3-0. We wait patiently, and as in the recent past our offense explodes. This time it's seven runs in the 6th as every single one of our starters but Hanley get at least 1 RBI. Blues 12-3
WP-Hanley (3-1), SV-Brown (1)

12: Wilson goes 8 full innings having given up only 2 runs - enough to trail 2-0. In the bottom of the eighth Dan Baucom walks with the bases loaded and two outs to put us on the board, then Bevilacqua slaps a 2 RBI single down the right field line to win. Blues 3-2
WP-Wilson (6-0), SV-Botting (6)

13: Our defense returns to its old form, and King leaves before the second inning trailing 4-1. We score six over the next two innings to make it 7-4 as Gyle once more buys our offense enough time with ugly play that's just good enough. Royce Anderson is the hero of the hour with 3 RBI, while Presson hits two doubles as part of his 3 for 5, 2 R day. Blues 8-7
WP-Gyle (3-0), SV-Botting (7)

********

We have now won nine in a row...

...and much to my chagrin, Hasley's right. Much of it is because of me. This last appointment really took the wind out of Rob's sails. He seems far more confused. More tired. Less talkative. For the second time now players are starting to turn to me with their problems, and this time Rob isn't fighting back or confronting me over it.


AL Standings
Boston (38-26) (--)
Philadelphia (38-26) (--)
New Orleans (33-32) (5.5)
Chi Stars (31-33) (7)
Philadelphia (31-34) (7.5)
Milwaukee (30-33) (7.5)
NY Kings (29-35) (9)
Cincinnati (27-38) (11.5)

NL Standings
Buffalo (45-20) (--)
Brooklyn (40-24) (4.5)
Washington (34-31) (11)
Baltimore (31-33) (13.5)
Cleveland (30-34) (14.5)
Chi Whalers (27-38) (18)
Kansas City (26-38) (18.5)
NY Titans (25-40) (20)

[CatKnight]

June 1954

Rob recovered on the overnight train ride to Philadelphia and was in fine form by the time we drew to a halt at the 30th Street Station.

New Orleans (33-32) (3rd, -5.5g) at Philadelphia (38-26) (1st-T, +0g)

14: If it were me this would be Yaz's last start, and Rob's thinking the same way I am. For the second straight start he blows it, lasting just 0.1 innings this time before Kevin Martell fills in. Martell makes a convincing argument for coming back to the rotation allowing only 3 hits in the next 7.2 innings. Meanwhile Rich Mick (2 for 4, RBI) leads the way as we battle back to tie it. Philly 2B Murray Wolcott (5 for 5, 2 runs, 3 RBI) hit a ninth inning, two out single with a runner on second to break our winning streak. Eagles 5-4
LP-Rovai (0-3)

15: After 5 1/2 innings we lead 10-0. Hanley tires towards the end but the damage is done. Presson, Clark and Mick bat 4-5-6 and combine for 10 hits and 5 RBI. Blues 10-3
WP-Hanley (4-1), HR-Dobry (2)

16: Philly strikes early, and though we manage to staunch the blood flow our offense can't quite catch up. Wilson gives up 5 runs (2 earned) in 5 innings. Dobry and Clark lead the offense with a run and RBI. Eagles 5-3
LP-Wilson (6-1)

*******

"I'm not travelling with you to Chicago," Hanley announced after Wednesday's game. He looked worn, perhaps a little more so since our incredible luck streak didn't extend to beating down the first place Eagles, as we shook hands outside the train station. "My flight leaves in two hours."

"You're going home?" I nodded gravely. "Your appointment?"

He smirked. "Don't worry about it, Peacock. Just kick Chicago's ass for me." Gayle rubbed his belly gingerly.

*******

New Orleans (34-34) (4th, -6.5g) at Chicago (34-33) (3rd, -6g)

18: Though King doesn't even make 5 innings (not sure why..), we overcome the 3-2 deficit he left. This time the hero is C Seth D'Anorade, who teamed up well with SS Jeff Dobry. The latter scored three times while D'Anorade earned 2 RBI. Chicago used their ace, Tony Crossman, who falls to 6-3 on the season. Blues 4-3
WP-Rovai (1-3), SV-Botting (8)

19: Chicago nickels and dimes us to death. Martell suffers no major catastrophes - just a host of minor ones. Dan Baucom goes 2 for 5 with a double to lead our excuse for an offensive performance. Stars 5-2
LP-Martell (4-4)

20: An effective revenge puts us back into third place. Hanley pitches a 5 hit CG while we pepper runs throughout the game thanks to 14 hits, 5 extra-base. Collin Ford went 4 for 5. Blues 8-1
WP-Hanley (5-1)

*******

I was in the visiting manager's office gathering my notes and half listening to the banter of men getting dressed and trading jokes when all conversation died away. I lifted my head and frowned as unfamiliar footsteps approached my door.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked reliever Sean Gyle.

'Don't mind me, boys," said an older voice. He knocked on my door.

"Come in?"

Tom Simmons, the manager of the Chicago Stars, opened the door. He was a short, fat man in his sixties wearing the black and white of his team. Normally his active, animated face betrayed whatever emotion he felt at the moment - joy, surprise, rage. Now he looked worried.

"Coach Pennington. Do you have a minute?"

I nodded. "Of course."

He closed the door behind him and sat. After a few seconds he removed his hat. "I'm not sure where to begin, Pennington, and I don't like that so I'll just get right to it. What happened to Rob?"

"He went home to New Orleans."

"I know that," he snapped. "Look. I consider him a friend. There aren't that many of the old guard left in baseball. I know damned well he's sick. The rumor's out he's leaning more and more on you, and I can tell you that isn't even close to how he usually does business. You're either another Clay Wolf," he added, referring to the most successful coach in league history, "or he's sicker than I thought."

"Coach..."

"Call me Tom."

"Tom...the truth is I don't know. Rob won't tell me anything, and since he won't, Doc Rabbone won't. I know he's had weekly appointments that seem to leave him drained, and I know it's something to do with his stomach. Maybe the gout." The last was a guess, but it was the first severe ailment I could think of.

"The rumor also says you want his position," Simmons added sternly.

"If he steps down, then maybe. I'm not trying to take it away from him if that's what you're asking."

Simmons searched my eyes, then slowly nodded. "I'm glad to hear that." He nodded towards a bottle of beer I had lying on the desk. "You mind?"

"It's warm."

"Don't care." He proceeded to prove it by prying off the cap with his teeth then guzzling it down. "Rob's a friend of mine," he repeated. "If he needs anything....let me know. I'll see what I can do."

[mbanghar]

lol...defense highways

Catknight beat me to the punch on that one, but the actual law that created the modern interstate system in the United States was called National Interstate and Defense Highways Act of 1956. And to this day the official name of the interstate system is the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways.

Excellent work as always Catknight.

[CatKnight]

mbanghar: Thanks! Glad to have you along. I enjoyed your Dixie league while it lasted.
*******

June 1954


After a week that saw us return to Earth, but at least not fall too far out of the race, we came home from Chicago.

Players are beginning to call me 'Skip' again, and this time...well, I'm having a harder time arguing against it. I really want Rob to get better, but so far this really hasn't been his year. I'm setting the rotation and lineups, and we simply seem to do better when he's off at his appointments.

Yet you don't dismiss someone with his experience so lightly. He could be the worst manager in baseball history....after a borderline HoF career and twelve years managing, he deserves some respect. And maybe some slack too. Maybe if Rob does step aside after this year I'll move in, but until then...

On offense and in the field the only man who is a true waste of space - literally - is the one man I can't get rid of. Catcher Henry Daff has yet to see one pitch on offense or defense. We're playing with a 24 man roster. His big mouth has alienated his fellow catchers, and while his charming ways have won him a supporter here and there most of the team wouldn't be sorry to see him go. Unfortunately I can't see Uncle Ed letting that happen.

Since moving our pitchers around, our rotation is actually looking credible on paper. I can rely on Wilson. King gives me more good days than bad. Martell has to make up ground for his poor start, but I think he'd like to try. Hanley's proven himself. Our number five guy, Torben Widdop, has been abysmal so far...but maybe having the past few weeks off has helped him settle.

"Skip, we need to talk." I looked up from my seat on the train home to see Josh Sutton staring at me. His face was flushed, eyes unfocused, and I couldn't tell if he was nervous, ill or drunk. Nonetheless his voice sounded steady enough and I waved at the seat next to mine.

"I want back in the rotation," he said flatly.

"No." It deserved no more explanation. He started the year as staff ace, Rob demoted him to # 2, and by the time I could get him out of the way he held a 4-7 6.63 ERA.

"I deserve a chance to show you what I can do!" Sutton snapped.

You mean lose? I sighed and closed my book. "We're 9-3 since you've sat. I don't want to mess with a winning combination."

"You let Kevin back in."

"Kevin proved he was ready to come back when Luke exploded."

"And again, I deserve the chance to show you I'm ready, too."

"Deserve?" I turned to face him. "What is this 'deserve?' Don't you think the bench players 'deserve' a chance to play more? That D'Anorade and Bevilacqua 'deserve' to know who's starting rather than this constant platooning? How about the other relievers? There's not one I couldn't put out their in the first inning. Don't you think they 'deserve' to move up?"

"I'm your ace!" he snarled. "And..."

"If you're my ace, then we might as well cancel the season now and cry done!"

His face twisted, and for a moment I thought he was going to take a swing right there. He mastered himself though, and in a subdued voice said, "What do I have to go to get out there again?"

Stop being a smart ass, for starters. I inhaled, started to speak. Paused. Smiled. "Is the door to this cab closed?"

His brow furrowed, but he looked. "Yeah."

"Fine. What do you think of Daff?"

"Henry? A blowhard. Thinks to much of himself and not enough of the game."

I nodded. "You know why he's on the roster?"

"Who doesn't?" Sutton sneered.

"You convince him to get Uncle Ed to take him off the 25 so Rob or I can try to get a decent player to help us out, and I'll find you a spot in the rotation."

His eyes narrowed, perhaps wondering what stopped him from betraying me and going to Hasley with my proposal. Then, slowly, he nodded.
*******

Rob met us at the field in a freshly pressed and laundered uniform looking a little ragged, but determined. He gave me a quick "Good job," patted my elbow, and walked slowly, purposefully around the clubhouse.

It was sad to see most of the players, many who had been with him for years, treat Gayle as an honored...guest. Oh, the manners were perfect (by clubhouse standards), the conversation polite - even friendly, but the tide was turning. With every absence, with every bad game, Rob slowly slipped from being one of 'us' to one of 'them.' I hoped he didn't see it.

"Rob! When you're done, I have a few suggestions about tonight," I called, trying to make it clear who was still in charge here.

He broke off in mid-witticism and gave me a somber look. So...he'd seen it after all.

"Yeah, Peacock. Good idea." He jerked his thumb at the office. "Let's go."
*******

Milwaukee (32-38) (T-6th, -10g) at New Orleans (36-35) (3rd, -6.5g)

21: Pitching is adequate, but the heroes are our batters who combine for six runs in the 6th to put the game out of reach. With several players resting our lineup is anchored by Baucom, Anderson and D'Anorade with two hits and 1-3 RBI each. Blues 10-5
WP-Wilson (7-1), SV-Rovai (4)

22: Well, we have an unqualified...pyrrhic victory. The good news is we won: Milwaukee scored 2 in the first, but that was it. Ford went 3 for 4 with 2 runs and an RBI. King pitched a complete game. The bottom half of the order really came through. Blues 7-2
WP-King (4-2)
*******

The bad news is, word is out about my attempt to get rid of Henry Daff...

[Jeffy25]

this is................awesome!

[CatKnight]

Jeffy25: Thanks!
*******

June 22, 1954

Tuesday's victory was our third in a row, fourth in five, and improved our June record to an astronomical 15-4....and yet Rob Gayle looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. We sat in his cluttered office talking quietly. Whiskey helped him settle after a game, and being bench coach in New Orleans apparently meant being his drinking buddy.

The conversation started as business - who's doing well, who's not, doors on trades that might make or break this team, strategies and so forth. Then it veered sharply to a riverboat where he met Alicia, the love of his life.

The wound still hurt. I could see that in his eyes. The drink dulled it however, and dropped some of the guards he kept around his heart. "The most beautiful creature," he said. "Though another might have not understood that. A little too big. Never really outgrew her freckles. Still, she had a good heart, Peacock...and when she smiled and laughed, you just knew that whatever it was, you were going to be okay."

"What happened?" I asked, then immediately wished I hadn't. I could see the walls slam down around him.

He looked at his desk, fiddling at the wood. Finally: "She died, Peacock. Diabetes. Like I said, a little too big."

There was nothing to say to that. I opened my mouth, but filled it with the last of my whiskey instead. As the silence lengthened I reached for the bottle. "Drink, skip?"

He chuckled without mirth. "They think you're the skipper now. Where did they get that idea anyway?"

I shook my head. "I swear it wasn't me."

He grunted and leaned forward, pointing with his glass. "I hope not, Peacock, because..."

"Gentlemen?" Doc Rabbone stepped in without knocking. "Pardon for intruding."

Gayle's expression darkened. "I took my medicine."

"It's not that, sir. It's that you have four players complaining of minor injuries and asking for time off."

"What!?" We exchanged confused glances. Who'd gotten hurt?

"In at least two cases I can affirm the gentlemen are fine, just angry. The other two are harder to tell, but perhaps them as well."

"Angry about what?" I asked.

"About you, sir. There is a rumor floating about that you have enlisted unknown others to force Mr. Daff into the minors. I told them they must be wrong, but..."

"Who are the players?" Gayle snapped.

"Presson, Sawyer, Clark and Ford," Rabbone replied. Our slugging left fielder, indifferent center fielder, star second baseman and new third bagger. I winced.

Rob slowly rose to his feet, unsteady from fatigue and whiskey both. "We'll take care of it." Life slowly surged into his ancient veins - perhaps a controversy was just what he needed to regain focus. "Give me two minutes with Peacock here, then send them in." Once we were alone: "Is it true?"

I sighed and told him about my chat with Sutton.

"You fool!" he exploded. "You know Sutton hates you! I'm just surprised he told the players and didn't get on the ringer with Hasley himself! God damn it! You tried to turn a player on another and you didn't expect a huge backlash?"

"Daff has more enemies than I can count. I didn't expect..."

"Then you don't understand the clubhouse as much as you think you do, Peacock! They operate by the old Albany motto: Me against my teammates, my teammates and I against the coaches, my coaches and I against everyone else!" He paced, fatigue fading with every step. "Here they come. Sit over there." He pointed. "And don't say a ****ing word!"

In walked two-thirds of outfield and half our infield. The emotions on their faces were curious: Concern, worry, anger, triumph. Scott Presson spoke first. "You wanted to see us, coach?"

"Doc says you're not good enough to play for a bit."

Presson was apparently spokesperson: "Yeah, skip."

"He also says it's because of Daff."

Ford and Sawyer exchanged looks. They hadn't expected Rabbone to give the real reason for their 'strike.'

"That's right, skip," Presson challenged. He took a full step towards the older man, one fist half clenched. I started to rise, but a look from Gayle rooted me to my seat.

"Well, **** Daff. Let him spend a few more years learning his trade, and maybe we talk again. Frankly I think he's a worthless punk who needs to cut his hair and grow a pair."

This made Presson pause, but only for a moment. "He told Sutton to go after Daff!"

"What I said was..."

"Shut up, Peacock!" Gayle once more pinned me with his gaze then looked up into Presson's eyes. "I can guess what he told Sutton. Believe me, he and I are gonna have a talk about it. Something funny, Clark!?"

Chuck Clark's smile broadened. "Oh, no Skip."

"Chuck's smiling because he knows you're not even in charge anymore, Skip. You talk to him, and you'll just go with what he says. Everyone knows that."

"Look, if you want me to apologize, then..." I rose.

"SIT DOWN! I'm in charge here!"

"We know who's in charge, Skip," Scott repeated. "We want to work with you, but he's gotta go."

"You're not in charge either, Presson!" Gayle roared. "He goes when I say he goes, and not before!"

"Thats not good enough!" said Ford.

"Oh? Oh? You owe Peacock your paycheck! Otherwise you'd still be wallowing in St. Louis!"

"That's not true!" Ford yelled. "I'm your best player and..."

"Were my best! Thirty day suspension, Ford! You're too hurt to play? Let me give your ego some time to heal."

"You can't do that!" all four players said together. Sawyer and Clark looked frightened, perhaps having expected Gayle to lie down and die. Presson merely looked enraged.

"Four, two, eighteen" Gayle added, pointing first to the outfielders then Clark. "You want to argue? Fine." He looked at Clark. "You want to laugh? Do it from home!"

Presson, the trained veteran thirty years Gayle's junior, bellowed in rage and swung. I leapt to my feet. Sawyer moved to restrain him. Neither of us needed have bothered: Rob ducked under the punch and slammed his fist into the outfielder's solar plexus. Presson groaned and went down.

"You may be army, son," Gayle swore, "but I played real baseball! I've been in more fights than half the Korean army and I'm still standing!"

[RandyTiger]

Wow! This is fantastic reading.

You really should turn this into a book.

[OldYankFan]

I love it!

[gosensgo101]

****'s going down in New Orleans!

Can't wait for the next update. :D

Maybe Daff will get a shot to play afterall. :rolleyes:

[SrMeowMeow]

The best as always. Seriously, write a book?

[Alloutwar]

Okay, I am officially along for the ride. This and Dis-Mantled have me reading. Keep up the work, good sir.

[gosensgo101]

Apparently you're replying to this thread, so I think I will stay up a few extra minutes. :D

[CatKnight]

RandyTiger: Not sure there's much of a market for a fictional baseball team, but I'm really starting to enjoy myself. Thanks!

OldYankFan: High praise from a great writer.

gosensgo101: Daff playing. Hm...that sounds scary.

SrMeowMeow: Thanks!

Alloutwar: Glad to have you along!
*******

COMMENT: The last post pretty much wrote itself. What started as a small excerpt between games turned into a full post - and it was thanks to the game itself. I really did get four injuries in one day, and I took it for granted that was too big a coincidence to ignore.

It doesn't happen often, but sometimes a character takes on a life of their own, and that's what happened here. I thought Gayle was on the way out, but as I wrote 'he' made it clear that he wasn't nearly done yet. I'm glad, for the story was starting to take a melancholy turn.

I'm not sure where this will wind up, but it's going to be a fun ride!
*******

June 23, 1954

Officially Collin Ford went on the 15-day disabled list with a dislocated shoulder, while Chuck Clark apparently sprained his finger. Doc Rabbone signed off on the paperwork and Rob Gayle called the American League office himself. Preston and Sawyer would be given some much needed time off to deal with aches and strains.

After stern warnings about 'proving the Doc wrong,' Gayle threw them out of his office. Then me. "Just go home, Peacock. We'll sort through this shitstorm later." As I left I saw him slowly sit down, pull over his glass of whiskey...and the roster.

Unofficially, one does not lose half their starting lineup in one day without it raising comment. Blues Devastated by Injury read the late edition, but the article's tone was confused. Apparently the players kept their silence and the reporter had no answers.

"Hasley wants to speak with you at ten," Gayle told me as we sat on his balcony that morning. "I can't help you with him. It was all I could do to get him to go along with our 'disabled' plan so we could call up Herskovitz and Hobby." The former, our (military) veteran shortstop, batted .275 1-6 in his short time in New Orleans. The latter, Alan Hobby, batted .250 3-11 before being injured a month ago and was still working his way back to the Majors.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say.

He grimaced at me and shook his head. After a moment he slapped my knee. "You're a fool, Peacock....but an honest one. I can work with honest." He rose, winced and lightly rapped his belly.

"You're gaining weight," I told him quietly.

He glared. "Fah. You get to be sixty and avoid being either fat or a ****ing scarecrow, then you can talk about weight!" He turned and walked away.

********

"I know what happened, sir, so you can save yourself the trouble!" steamed Ed Hasley when I entered his office, closing the door behind me.

"I wasn't going to," I said, removing my hat and sitting after he grunted permission. "I came to apologize."

"As well you should, Mr. Pennington! As well you should! I have been tendering calls all morning! Gayle! Ford! Clark! Mr. Himes! The press! They either tell me what's going on, want to know what's going on, or want me to do something about it! You have created quite a pickle, sir, quite a pickle indeed!"

"As I said, I'm sorry."

He half leaned towards me, resting his elbow on the desk. "I know what you are at! We've discussed this before. I am sure you were a very clever fellow in Charleston, but you have quite a bit to learn about the Majors! You think you can come in here and change policies that have worked well for a decade? Damn you, sir!"

I swallowed. Hasley's face was mottled red, his eyes bulging. If he wasn't bellowing, I'd have thought he was choking on his rage. Yet, much as instinct - and intelligence - told me to sit there until he calmed down, no man should have to take such an overt attack. "Daff doesn't belong in the Majors," I said.

"Oh, what do you know?" he growled.

"He's our third string catcher." If that. "We don't need a third catcher. It's nothing personal agai...."

"Of course it's personal!" Hasley shouted. His choler finally mastered him and he clenched his eyes shut, rubbing at his temples.

"He wouldn't be here if he wasn't your nephew," I added quietly.

Hasley pinned me with his bloodshot eyes. "You mean he wouldn't be here if you were in charge. I remind you that you are not, and trying to manipulate the roster....trying to turn the players against each other? My God! Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I tried to discuss it with you. You were adamant.."

"And you should have accepted that! You should have accepted that I just might know something you don't! You want to tell me that he's not our best catcher? I know that! I also know that he's popular! The papers can't get enough of him, nor can the radio. The girls swoon for Christ's sake! He's young, he's handsome, he knows all this ...this...." He flipped his hands at his desk as if brushing something away, "....this rock and roll nonsense. He isn't here to play. He's here to get people in the stands! He's here to give a face to this franchise!"

So he'd explained before, and I could concede that Daff was...pretty. Still, we had several other players of suitable age that weren't exactly trolls...

"Mr. Pennington, I am very disappointed. Very disappointed. You owe Mr. Daff an apology, sir. Then I think it is best if you take some time off. Four days, Mr. Presson's suspension, should be a sufficent message."

I nodded gravely. "Yes, sir." I rose and put on my hat.

*******

September 23: The Brewers take advantage of Kevin Martell as he tires, getting six hits and two walks. Oh, we had ten hits in the first inning alone. And ten runs for that matter.

Without Daff's clique (and quite possibly without me) to cause trouble, the players rallied behind Rob Gayle who seemed to have recovered some of his luster. Despite our massive lead he charged the umpire in the fifth inning over an alleged bad call that gave the Brewers a run and, according to the radio and to the delight of our fans, had a marvelous row.

Simmons (2B) and Hobby (RF) returned to the starting lineup in style, with the former going 4 for 5 with 3 RBI, while Hobby picked up 3 RBI and his fourth homer. Bevilacqua and Royce Anderson also earned three hits. Blues 13-4
WP-Martell (5-4), HR-Hobby (4)

********

This time it was my turn to question Gayle about the day's events and he seemed to relish the change in pace. He glowed as we sat on the balcony enjoying a rich seafood dinner. If the sauces affected his stomach, it didn't show as he devoured his plate and went downstairs for more.

"I'm surprised you weren't thrown out in the fifth," I said.

"Bruce?" he asked, surprised. "Oh, he and I go way back. He knew I was just rallying the troops."

"The umpire?" And we talked about a day back during the war when a green manager and rookie umpire met under the bleachers, had a very frank and painful discussion concerning each other's faults, then settled their differences over beer, pretzels and peanuts long into the night.

Finally, on towards two in the morning, he rose. "A good day, Peacock. This was a pretty good day!"

I started to ask about tomorrow - a Thursday. Instead I simply rose my glass in salute.

Perhaps he read my thoughts after all, because he sobered. "Tomorrow? Tomorrow we'll see."

[CatKnight]

June 24, 1954


Rain misted in from off the Gulf in the early morning, and humidity trapped the heat of an unrelenting sun. Anywhere else this would be a recipe for illness and death, anywhere but on the Gulf Coast where ninety-five degree days and entire wings of mosquitos practicing combat tactics is simply...normal.

Normal or not, even the spirited city of New Orleans seemed somewhat beaten by this terrible heat. I found refuge in a bar where the mahogany walls and dim lighting at least gave the impression of coolness.

"Hey, turn up the radio!" said the patron next to me, a huge man with rough hands who smelled of salt. Sailor? Laborer? Dockwork certainly.

Louis Armstrong. As his trumpet filled the room I felt my misery fade somewhat and I was able to enjoy my iced beer. I didn't think much of his 'scat'ing - vocalizing sounds rather than words to create his melody - but I've never heard a better trumpet ... and in New Orleans that means something.

Armstrong seemed to put my neighbor in a better mood as well, for he turned to me. "Name's Joe."

"Ty. Ty Pennington." I shook his hand.

"Penning...?" His eyes narrowed. "That guy from baseball! Hey now!"

Word in the paper this morning was that I needed a few days to tend to my head - merely another one of the strange string of injuries that seemed to plague the New Orleans clubhouse. I wished I'd kept my mouth shut as three burly friends joined us.

"Hey! Come here alot?"

"You think we'll catch the Eagles?"

"How's your head?"

"How about Boston? They're in town, you know."

"Regarding the past few days, Mr. Pennington. Is there anything you'd have done differently?"

My new fans parted in the wake of a smiling, well built man in his early forties. Despite the temperature he wore a full suit and tie, yet he didn't sweat. He spoke with a thick Louisiana/southern accent and shook my hand warmly. "Chep Morrison, sir. What a surprise to find you here!"

An unpleasant one, given how quickly my fanbase evaporated. The Mayor of New Orleans removed his hat, handing it to a hulking, shadowed figure I'd have mistaken for a wall.

"Yes, a surprise," Chep assured me. He ordered a drink for his wall - none for himself - and turned. "You must have made quite a noise for yourself, Mr. Pennington, to be suspended as you were."

"Suspended?" Did Hasley know this fellow? "You're mistaken. I hurt my head."

He smirked. "When the team loses half their lineup on one day, then their bench coach the next? That is not coincidence."

I said nothing.

"Mr. Pennington, I like a man who wants to reform what's broken. That was my promise when I came to office, you know." He gave me a long, searching look. "The Blues have needed reform for a long time, sir. I strongly suspect you're the man for the job."

I didn't want to give this person an opening, yet I found myself saying: "So, what's broken?"

"Many things," he said. Apparently he changed his mind about a drinking, for he signaled the bartender over and spoke. "Many things. Let's say the team's been in a rut for awhile, and it's in my interest to do something about that." He frowned at me. "New Orleans is a great city, Ty.. can I call you Ty? It is my home now, and I am serious about it doing well. Bringing a pennant to New Orleans would raise our standing in the national community at large."

"Well, winning a pennant is precisely what we're trying to do," I assured him.

"Of course....though, I have to say that some people are less committed to the ideal than you or I might prefer?"

The bartender returned with some papers instead of a drink. Chep looked through them then up at me. "Ty, I want to help you. If there's anything I can do to ... make your reforms easier? You look me up." He nodded to the wall, who produced a card from his jacket pocket.

********

I went home and slept through the rest of the killer heat. No sense going to work, of course, and Rob wouldn't be back until late. Towards 6:00 I turned on the radio and listened: The Boston Pilgrims (41-32) were in town. They stood two back of Philadelphia while we (39-35) were in third and 4 1/2 off the pace. A sweep here by either team would determine who the Eagles would have to watch for for weeks to come and perhaps the rest of the year.

For that matter, after Boston we'd host the Eagles. If we could get through the next week with four or five wins... I smiled at that.

The commentator was a man named Mulder, Rob Mulder. "....and we have a guest announcer tonight! Henry? Welcome to the studio."

****!

"Thanks for having me, Rob!" said our third (fourth, sixth) string catcher.

"Henry, we have to know. What's happening in the clubhouse? Two major injuries in one day, and three minor ones including your bench coach? What happened?"

"Oh, there was some arguing about who runs the ballclub," Henry replied. "Nothing to worry about."

****!

"So, no one's hurt?"

"I guess it was a pretty good argument!"

Mulder paused, apparently deciding discretion would be good for his career. "And we'll be back after this message from Ford!"

Ford made a good faith effort, in my best interests, to get me into the best car in America today for less than $2,000. When the pair returned they found a new topic to talk about: Rob Gayle.

"I see the manager now in the dugout," Mulder said. "I think this may be the first Thursday he's worked in a month. He doesn't look well."

I grimaced.

"Yeah, Coach Gayle liked to let Ty run our Thursday games." Even Daff sounded thoughtful. What were they seeing that I couldn't?

"Well, here he comes...no, he's handing the lineup to - who's that? Bill McDonald, our pitching coach. We haven't seen much of him this year."

"No..." Something was throwing Daff off his upbeat tempo. He paused, distracted. "He's usually in the bullpen with me and the other pitchers."

Whatever it was, it seemed to pass. They scored once in the first off Mike Hanley, then we scored three in the bottom half on a Tom Simmons single and Will Thirlwell walk. Daff and Mulder talked briefly about those two getting an opportunity to play again with Clark and Ford injured, but when Henry started to drift back to 'the argument' Mulder changed topics.

Boston scored again in the third to make it 3-2, and that's when the game's tenor changed.
******

"Coach Gayle seems unhappy," Mulder said as Rich Mick struck out with one on in the fourth.

"That was outside!" cried Daff. "Hell! I can see that from here!"

I winced. If he couldn't control his mouth the station, and possibly the Blues, would be fined by the FCC.

Six pitches later, on a 3-2 count to Will Thirlwell:

"And that's ball four!" Mulder began. "Runner, take your...no! He's out! Throw to first - Hobby's picked off! Alan Hobby's picked off first to end the inning and here comes Gayle!"

"That was not a strike!" Daff began, but then silence reigned.

"Gayle is moving across the diamond slowly," Mulder said some moments later. "He looks....he's coming to the....."

"He's down!" Daff shouted. "Coach is down!"

"And we will be back after this message from Clorox!" shouted Mulder. "The score is 3-2 Blues in the bottom of the third, and we will....."

I grabbed my keys and sprinted for the door.

[CatKnight]

June 24, 1954 (II)


"Bennett! Report!" I bellowed as I stormed the clubhouse doing my best drill sergeant impression. I may not have fought in The War, but I did go through training and by God I knew quite a bit about being yelled at. Take charge, don't give them time to think, and they're more likely to obey.

Matthew Bennett leapt from his seat by the trainer's door. "Sir!" shouted the former soldier and current backup first baseman. Then he recognized me: "I mean...Coach! What are you...?"

"Where's Gayle?"

"Inside." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Sir..." He stepped into my path.

"Out of my way, Bennett!"

He hesitated. "I don't think..." Whatever he didn't think never appeared, because that split second was enough to get my arm past him. I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open as he moved aside. I paced inside with Bennett on my tail.

"What the devil?" hissed Doc Rabbone. He rose from his stool and stormed over. "God's death, Bennett. I said no visitors!"

"Report!"

My soldier act apparently doesn't work on doctors. "Get the devil out of here, sir. You are ridiculous!"

I looked past him. Gayle lay on the trainer's bed. He looked....grey, uncomfortable, and unconscious. Cold compresses lay on his forehead and wrists. A tube filled with liquid connected a needle in his arm with a plastic bag. The bag rested on a hook on a metal stand: An I.V. unit.

"How is he?"

"Later," Rabbone hissed. "He needs to rest. Don't you have a team to manage?"

I grit my teeth. "Right! Bennett, come with me."

"Bennett," Rabbone said. "You stay right where you were." He pressed a scalpel in the young man's hands. "The next person who tries to get in here, non?" He gave me a particularly evil look and returned to his patient.

********

Between surprisingly heavy traffic, bulldozing my way past an obstinate guard who thought it strange anyone would want access to the clubhouse in mid-game, and dealing with Rabbone, it was the top of the eighth by the time I ran down the narrow concrete corridor to the dugout.

"Coach!" Since Scott Presson wasn't officially suspended, but 'injured,' he had every right to be in the dugout. He stood against the wall, resting one leg against it like a flamingo. He'd been watching the game with folded arms, but now stood. Gayle's illness seemed to have stolen his bravado - now he looked worried. "How's the skip?"

"Rabbone won't tell me," I said tersely. I stepped into the dugout and was mobbed by several players. Gratitude and hope mired with worry and fear. Yes, I told them, he's still alive. No, Doc hasn't sent for an ambulance apparently. No, I'm not sure how he is.

"Who's running the game?" I asked.

"Bill," answered Presson. He pointed to the pitching coach who stood off to one side. McDonald stepped forward and gripped my arm. "I am happy you are here!"

"How are we doing?"

"6-2, one out. Hanley's still pitching. Runner on first. What...what should we do?"

"Six to two?" I looked at the field. Play had stopped with my entrance as nine Blues players and a Pilgrim peered into our dugout. The third base umpire trotted over to find out what our problem was. "Sounds like you're doing fine without me."

"Oh, no, sir. You see it was all them. I haven't had much to do."

"Stop the jabber so we can finish the game!" growled the ump.

I waved at him and sat in my usual seat, now supporting McDonald instead of our manager. I tried to concentrate on the game, but with every pitch and swing I saw Gayle's face.

The Blues were also off their rhythm. Martin Johnson slapped a curveball to right. Alan Hobby caught it on the second bounce.

"Throw!" shouted more than one player as Brad Dietz rounded second. Hobby couldn't have heard, but he obeyed anyway and fired a rocket. Too late however, and Simmons cut the throw off rather than risk a run scoring error.

This brought Todd Clutterbuck to the plate. Clutterbuck was making his career debut for the Pilgrims, and given his reaction to the tittering New Orleans crowd, quite possibly his finale. He slammed his bat on the plate, then pointed it at our pitcher's head.

"Ball!" shouted the umpire as Lee Bevilacqua had to leap to prevent a wild pitch.

"Ball!" Far inside. Bevilacqua trapped it.

Regardless, Clutterbuck didn't like it. He stalked towards the mound. Hanley began to retreat, but catcher and umpire both easily caught him.

"What a Charlie Foxtrot," I muttered. Several players, notably the former veterans, grinned.

The third pitch was also inside, but this time Clutterbuck swung. He hooked a pop foul towards third. Thirlwell caught it easily. Hanley settled down and quickly picked up the third out.

The battle went on into the bottom of the eighth. Eleven pitches and three grounders later and it was once more Boston's turn.

"Look, I'm going to wait in the clubhouse," I told McDonald. "My heart's just not in this."

"And mine is?" he asked bitterly. "I'm worried about him too."

Indeed, the somber faces around me confirmed I was far from the only one worried. I sighed and sat back, gripping the bench with both fists. "Hanley!" I called. "Get these bastards out."

The first two outs were easy enough. It was LF Mark Haney's double to right-center that grit my teeth. I looked at McDonald. "He's getting tired."

He bit his lip, uncertain. "Do you think so?"

"You're the pitching coach."

McDonald grimaced then slowly shook his head. "He's alright."

I sighed and folded my arms.

"I think."

Ball, strike, then a towering fly to deep center field. I hissed as Haney rounded third and came home, but CF Rich Mick paid him no mind. He snapped his glove twice at the onrushing ball and caught it.

I never saw, as I was trotting down the corridor with half the team on my heels.

*******

"Doc says you can come in," Bennett told me. "Just you, though."

I nodded my thanks and stepped past him. The lights in the training room were off except for one by the bed. Gayle still slept, though at least the greyish tinge had passed. In the dim light he looked old and tired, but at peace. Rabbone nodded his head in greeting and stood, stretching his back.

"How is he?" I asked quietly.

He shook his head and walked past me, both hands against his lower back. He led me to a steel medical cabinet and pulled a key from a chain around his neck. He opened it and pulled out a bottle. He held it up to me with a questioning look.

"What is it?"

"Strong." Two tumblers joined the bottle on his counter and he poured. He clinked the glasses and turned away, swallowing his in one gulp.

I drank mine. At first it was smooth and silky, almost like sweet tea. Then somewhere between my throat and stomach it decided to catch on fire. My eyes widened.

Rabbone turned to watch silently as my chest heaved. I covered my hand with my mouth and lifted my head to try not to cough up his drink.

"I did tell you it was strong," he said mildly. He poured himself another drink then put the bottle away while I silently regained control of my stomach. The fire faded to be replaced by a warm, not quite pleasant glow.

"I see no reason to keep confidence any longer," he said. "Collapsing in front of thirty thousand people tends to do away with secrecy."

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"I would like to say it was just the heat, and in the end that is true. Heat, humidity, and fatigue. I'm afraid his treatments are sapping his strength. Some weeks are better than others, but..." He cast a look in Gayle's direction. "....but we're losing." He shook his head and drank.

"You mean his Thursday appointments?"

Rabbone nodded. "He's been taking radiation therapy under my care."

I felt my skin grow cold. I only knew of one sickness that warranted radiation, and if it was in his stomach...

"He has cancer."

[CatKnight]

Late June 1954

One of the more effective and classic military strategies is the diversion. Simply put, you make your enemy think the attack is coming from one direction, then after they move to counter your offensive you attack from a different direction. The Japs used a trick like this during The War, feinting towards Alaska so we wouldn't be sure where they would go if negotiations broke down.

Sneaking a sick manager out from under the massed media of New Orleans as well as representatives from Texas, Louisiana and Boston would take no less effort.

I strode into the media room with Bill McDonald and Mike Hanley, our winning pitcher. "Gentlemen!" I smiled at the crowded room. Three technicians from different radio stations set up microphones at our table. "Gentle...!" A loud shriek told me one of the mikes needed adjusting.

No one seemed in the least interested that we'd just defeated Boston, nor that Philadelphia also lost and we now stood 3.5 games back. Hanley's third career complete game also passed without notice.

"Coach Pennington? Aaron West, Boston Globe. Your manager..." He consulted his notes. "Mr. Gayle. What happened to him?"

"Heat exhaustion," I said flatly.

"Heat exhuastion?" West asked curiously. "Then surely he's recovered by now. Why isn't he here?"

"He's resting," I replied in the same tone.

West frowned. It had to be obvious I was covering, but... "News around the league is that Mr. Gayle has missed significant managing time this year due to illness. He's been...."

"Nonsense," I lied. "Coach Gayle has kindly stood aside for me on numerous occasions. He believes the best way to learn how to manage is to simply do it."

"Coach?" Daff spoke up. I glared at him. "Coach, what about your .. your injury? Shouldn't you be resting?"

I cleared my throat.

An unknown reporter, technician, stooge, someone....burst in. "There's an ambulance at Gate 4!"

"Let's go!" cried West.

"Gentlemen!" I called. "Let's talk about today's game! I would like to introduce our...."

The reporters paid me no mind. The tide even enveloped Daff, and within thirty seconds I was pleading to an empty room. Then the phone rang.

Hanley picked up and listened. "Hold on." He gave me an inquiring look.

"Do it."
********

While reporters crowded an ambulance at the south gate, a non-descript car pulled up to the northside. Doc Rabbone stepped into the early summer night, looked around and signaled. Moments later Scott Presson and Chris Herskovitz trotted out, carrying a barely conscious man between them. Rabbone opened the back door as they hustled their passenger into the seat. Moments later the doctor stepped into the passenger seat and they left.
********

"...and so we brought Rob home," I told Ed Hasley by phone at eleven o'clock. "He was coherent by the time he arrived. Doc wants him to rest a few days, then he should be fine...considering."

"Considering what, Mr. Pennington?" Irritation mixed with concern.

I should have known Gayle wouldn't want him to know. "Considering...considering his age."

Hasley let the silence linger just long enough to intimate that he didn't believe me. "Well, well, and what of you? I thought we agreed you would not be at the field for this series."

"I was home when Rob collapsed. I thought I better go in and help."

"Bill McDonald ran the team well enough, sir."

"He did," I agreed. 'However...." However, Bill's been weak and indecisive all season. I didn't know how sick Rob was.[/i "...I felt I should be there in case I was needed."

"I see," Hasley snapped. I heard ice clink in the background, then something being poured. "I see. Well, clearly the situation has changed. Can I trust you to stop plotting against my nephew?"

I grunted. "I understand."

"Can I trust you?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Fine...then I think it is best if you go back 'on the clock.' At least for field duty. I want you to tell Mr. Presson that his suspension is reversed. Since Ford and Clark are supposedly injured, they will stay out. Henry will stay on the roster, but will continue to assist with other duties, such as his radio work, as well. Are we agreed?"

I sighed. "Yes, sir."

*******

Boston (41-32) (2nd, -2g) at New Orleans (39-35) (3rd, -4.5g)

24: After Gayle collapsed, we scored three more runs while P Mike Hanley held them scoreless. Alan Hobby went 2 for 3 with 2 RBI to help build our lead. Blues 6-2
WP- Hanley (6-1), HR- Dobry (3)
*******

On my first day back on the job, Presson let me know he'd prefer to sit out his 'injury.' He seems upset that Rob won't make it back for the series.

25: Wilson pitches eight great innings, but he could have completely luffed it and we'd have won. We scored five runs in the sixth and seventh inning to turn a healthy 4-2 lead into a rout. Rich Mick is the only starter (including Wilson) who [i]doesn't get an RBI. Sawyer gets four hits, while Baucom and Simmons earn three each. Blues 15-3
WP- Wilson (8-1)

26: And again. This time our defense does stutter, but offensively we remain very strong. Their four errors help. Simmons and Hobby have admirably anchored the middle of our lineup with so many people 'down.' Today both earn 3 hits, while Hobby adds 3 runs, 2 homers and 4 RBI to his resume. Blues 12-7
WP- King (5-2), HR- Baucom 2 (8), Hobby 2 (6)

[gosensgo101]

Hopefully the recent events can bring the team back together.

[CatKnight]

gosensgo: Hopefully!
*******

June 1954

"You could have told me," I scolded Rob Gayle as gently as I could. Worry added fire to my words though, and I regretted them.

Now in his fourth day since his collapse - and my ascension as acting manager - Rob moved about his boarding room slowly. He surprised me when he opened the door with a sheer gold robe, humphed and shuffled back in.

"Was none of your business, Peacock," he grumbled. "Still isn't. Tea?" He held up a pitcher.

"I didn't know you drank tea."

"I don't. Doc wants me to lay off the alcohol." He poured two glasses - lukewarm and watery as any ice it contained had long since melted, and sank into an easy chair.

There were a hundred things I wanted to ask him: Would he be okay? Did it hurt? Did he need anything? Something in his grave, proud glare stopped me. Even exhausted and for the moment down, he didn't look beaten.

"Well, you didn't come here to mooch, Peacock. What do you want? You can tell how busy my schedule is."

"I wanted to talk about the team." Not quite true, but better than talking about his sickness.

Interest flared briefly in Gayle's eyes, then died away. "Doesn't seem like you need my help, Peacock. Blues are doing fine without me."

"They're doing fine because they can focus on the game instead of worrying. Everyone's..." I shook my head.

"Does everyone know?" he asked bitterly.

"About the cancer? No. Just Rabbone...and me. Not even Mr. Hasley, as far as I know."

Gayle grunted approval. "Keep it that way."

"But...I mean....."

"Tell me about the team," he snapped.

So I told him about my conversation with Josh Sutton last night, where he insisted and swore up and down he didn't reveal the plan against Henry Daff to anyone. "He seems sincere, but I don't trust him. How can I? I know he has it in for me since I demoted him. I just thought if I gave him a way back in the rotation he'd take it. Skip?"

He blinked, and for a moment seemed to drift away. Gayle blinked again and shook his head. "Sutton's not a bad character, Peacock, but he's ambitious like the rest of us. You hurt his pride, and you didn't think he'd take the chance for revenge?"

"Then why bother lying?"

"Simple. Until Doc clears me for action, you have the lineup card again. He needs you."
*******

"Coach!" Henry Daff was waiting in Gayle's/my office as I strode in that afternoon. He grinned in my direction as I threw my cap on the desk. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." The regular pleasantries, then: "Why aren't you in the bullpen?"

"I wanted to talk for a minute before we got out there."

"Go ahead." I sat behind the desk and opened the drawer, looking for a blank lineup card.

"You don't like me," Daff said. "Why?" He didn't sound accusatory, just...curious.

A pencil followed the card onto 'my' desk blotter. "Are you asking as a reporter, a DJ or a ballplayer?"

"A man."

I paused and looked up into his earnest face, sighed and shook my head. "I don't not like you, Henry. It's nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"You're not ready for the Majors."

"Hey! Bill says I'm getting good at covering balls to the right!"

"Which only leaves the left, above and below," I retorted. "Look, if you were in Birmingham or one of the other farm clubs, we'd both be happier. You could get the gametime and attention you need to develop into a fine catcher, and I'd have a full roster. You know Rob won't play you unless he's desperate, and I'm not eager to either."

"Develop?" The concept seemed to baffle Daff, which didn't surprise me. "Are you saying Lee (Bevilacqua) is better?"

"And Seth (D'Anorade.) Barring something catastrophic, I don't know how you get in game time. Don't you want that?"

"I do," Daff agreed. "That's why Uncle Ed wants you to put me in tonight."

"He...what?"

"I'm afraid he insists." Daff smiled.

"He...WHAT?"

"You can call him if you want." His grin broadened.

"He...." I slammed both fists on my desk and stood. "Come with me!"

Trailed by Daff, we walked through the dugout and across the field. "Sutton!" I called to a group of pitchers in right field limbering up. "Sutton!"

"Coach?" Josh scrambled to his feet.

"You're pitching tonight. Here's your catcher." I shoved Daff in his direction. "Good luck!"
*******

I may have to let Daff play, but there's nothing saying I have to give him a good team to work with. Presson and Bill Sawyer (.889 fielding) rejoined the lineup. I'm not one to throw games, but I'll be damned if I make it easy on those two.

*******

Philadelphia (44-32) (1st, +2.5g) at New Orleans (42-35) (2nd, -2.5g)

27: Surrounded by indifferent fielders, Sutton simply takes over and pitches a 2 run complete game. Four players get two hits a piece - not including Henry Daff, who goes 0 for 3 with a walk in his career debut. Blues 8-2
WP- utton (5-7)
*******

After the game, OF Bill Sawyer reported he'd hurt his wrist making a play near the wall. Officially he goes back to the bench with the same 'injury' he had later, but there's no punitive overtone this time. He's really hurt. Perhaps it's just as well, as Royce Anderson had worked hard during his absence to take the position away.
*******

28: Philly snaps our winning streak by the skin of their..uhm..beak. We led 9-1 after six thanks to strong performances by Alan Hobby and Scott Presson (3 BI each). Martell tired in the seventh, and Chris Botting blew it entirely in the ninth giving up five runs when we only led by four. Eagles 11-10
LP-Botting (4-5), HR-Presson (9)

29: Philly manages to beat up Mike Hanley, and it's up to RP Burt Brown to keep us competitive through the tense middle innings. We manage to close to within one, but the Eagles score a late run to seal our fate. Eagles 5-3
LP-Hanley (6-2)
*******

"This is how you build interest in a player, sir," Edward Hasley told me triumphantly on the phone after the game. "Not through your own efforts - knocking door to door as it were - but solid play from the player and a certain aloofness from yourself!"

Apparently the New York Titans came calling, offering us a very solid center fielder for SS Chris Herskovitz.

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/63054.png

Thurber could probably make the starting lineup from day one, and would certainly be an improvement over Sawyer or even Rich Mick. On the other hand, he was in his thirties with a larger contract, and while Herskovitz might not be our starter this year, he would probably take over for Dobry for 1955 or 1956 and had the potential for stardom.

"I....I don't think that's a good idea," I said.

"Fortunately I didn't ask!" Hasley said cheerfully.

Oh. "So you made the trade?"

"Of course not! One does not change horses in mid-race! I think I am quite pleased with how our current lineup is doing. I wanted you to be aware that other teams are noticing as well."
*******

30: Palmer Wilson displays a vengeful streak when he plunks three Philly batters. Fortunately he doesn't add many hits or walks and our defensive play is brilliant. With the game tied in the bottom of the ninth Lee Bevilacqua singled, advanced on a sacrifice and scored on Will Thirlwell's single to allow us to split the series with Philly for the first time this year. Blues 2-1
WP-Wilson (9-1)

*******

Full stats follow, but for tonight:

American League
* Philadelphia (46-34) (--)
* Boston (45-35) (1)
* New Orleans (44-37) (2.5)
* Chi Stars (40-40) (6)
* St. Louis (40-42) (7)
* Milwaukee (37-43) (9)
* NY Kings (36-44) (10)
* Cincinnati (34-47) (12.5)

National League
* Buffalo (54-27) (--)
* Brooklyn (49-31) (4.5)
* Washington (44-38) (10.5)
* Baltimore (39-40) (14)
* Kansas City (36-43) (17)
* Cleveland (35-45) (18.5)
* Chi Whalers (33-48) (21)
* NY Titans (31-49) (22.5)

[CatKnight]

June 1954 in Review


http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/june1954.png

There's very little good explanation for our team playing at an over .700 pace for June. I think it's good for the story, as it adds an extra layer to what's happening around us, but it's still interesting for a previous .500 team to make such a leap.

Using dice to determine how much leeway I'd get, I started playing with the lineup as Gayle sickened. Though lineup manipulation shouldn't have that much effect, I noted back when I wrote Cardinal Sins that I could give the team an extra 8 wins or so through lineup control alone (vs. letting the AI do it.) This would equate to much more than that though, so I think a big part of our explosive play comes down to luck.

Some interesting statistics courtesy Mizerak:

Streaks and Highlights



Team Streaks:
Winning Streak: 9 (June 3, 1954 - June 13, 1954)
Losing Streak: 7 (April 28, 1954 - May 5, 1954)

Team Highs - Offense: Team Highs - Defense:
Runs: 18 - June 9, 1954 (NWO 18 at NYK 9) Errors: 5 - June 1, 1954 (PHI 2 at NWO 4); June 4, 1954 (CHS 7 at NWO 8)
Hits: 25 - June 9, 1954 (NWO 18 at NYK 9) Runs: 18 - June 2, 1954 (PHI 18 at NWO 11)
Walks: 7 - June 21, 1954 (MIL 5 at NWO 10) Hits: 23 - June 2, 1954 (PHI 18 at NWO 11)
Strikeouts: 8 - June 15, 1954 (NWO 6 at PHI 5) Earned Runs: 15 - June 2, 1954 (PHI 18 at NWO 11)
Homers: 4 - June 26, 1954 (BOS 7 at NWO 12) Walks: 10 - May 4, 1954 (MIL 13 at NWO 9)
Steals: 5 - May 4, 1954 (MIL 13 at NWO 9) Strikeouts: 8 - May 1, 1954 (NWO 1 at BOS 11)
Runs/Inning: 10 - 1st, June 23, 1954 (MIL 4 at NWO 13) Homers: 3 - June 2, 1954 (PHI 18 at NWO 11)
Innings Pitched: 14.0 - May 4, 1954 (MIL 13 at NWO 9)

Player Streaks: Player High Games:
Current Hit Streak: 8 - T. Simmons Hits/Games: 5 - R. Anderson (June 9, 1954)
Team-High Hit Streak: 10 - C. Clark (June 4-16, 1954) HR/Game: 2 - D. Baucom (June 26, 1954), A. Hobby (June 26, 1954)
Team-High HR Streak: 1 - 9 players RBI/Game: 4 - Several players
Team-High Quality Start Streak: 3 - P. Wilson (June 1-12) Runs/Game: 3 - 10 players
Team-High Win Streak: 5 - M. Hanley (June 3-24, 1954) SB/Game: 2 - D. Baucom (June 14, 1954)
Strikeouts/Game: 5 - M. Hanley (June 20, 1954)
Multihit Games: 16 - D. Baucom
*******

Batter of the Month

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/baucom.png

There was a time early one when we wondered if 1B Dan Baucom would lose his position to Matthew Bennett. The stats show Baucom's one of our most solid players, however. In June he batted .386/.431/.518 with 6 doubles, 3 homers and 23 RBI. His wOBA of .460 and RC/27 of 0.88 both led the team.

Pitcher of the Month

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/wilson-1.png


Our choice for Pitcher of the Month was much more difficult, as Mike Hanley (5-1 2.97) put up very solid numbers, especially in the more 'modern' categories that wouldn't have been known in 1954. Given his overall dominance even in times the team wasn't doing so well, we'll give the nod to Palmer Wilson.

Wilson went 6-1 in June with a 1.35 ERA and acceptable 1.27 WHIP (Second among starters vs. Hanley). He made 804 pitches in June to lead the team, a solid trait as it keeps the pressure off our indifferent bullpen. The biggest strike against him is that his 23 walks also led the team in June.

Overall Team Statistics



Batting Stats AVG/OBP/SLG GP GS AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB K SB CS wOBA GIDP RC/27 HBP

D. Baucom .330/.392/.447 79 79 333 66 110 11 2 8 56 30 23 12 7 .411 3 2.09 4
S. Presson .295/.347/.498 72 65 281 54 83 20 5 9 56 21 23 7 8 .397 3 1.69 1
B. Sawyer .237/.336/.284 68 63 257 55 61 7 1 1 22 36 18 11 13 .318 5 0.83 2
L. Bevilacqua .312/.369/.474 68 53 234 35 73 16 5 4 52 20 9 1 3 .404 3 1.46 1
R. Mick .295/.335/.380 61 60 237 29 70 8 3 2 30 12 17 4 5 .350 2 1.05 2
J. Dobry .294/.375/.396 60 60 245 52 72 10 3 3 30 27 23 12 10 .382 1 1.23 5
C. Clark .340/.392/.445 53 51 200 28 68 14 2 1 33 16 8 4 12 .409 4 1.12 1
S. D'Anorade .305/.385/.382 50 27 131 25 40 7 0 1 18 13 6 0 3 .384 1 0.63 4
W. Thirlwell .256/.330/.305 48 48 164 24 42 3 1 1 24 16 12 3 5 .321 3 0.56 2
R. Anderson .301/.345/.383 33 31 133 31 40 4 2 1 18 9 10 3 4 .358 2 0.62 0
T. Simmons .341/.376/.452 30 29 126 21 43 6 1 2 26 7 8 3 2 .401 0 0.78 0
J. Higdon .279/.319/.309 28 15 68 10 19 2 0 0 8 4 5 1 1 .316 2 0.24 0
A. Hobby .351/.422/.703 26 17 74 19 26 6 1 6 24 8 6 0 1 .515 1 0.77 1
C. Ford .418/.443/.582 21 16 67 12 28 5 0 2 19 3 3 2 1 .489 0 0.64 0
C. Herskovitz .275/.324/.362 18 17 69 9 19 3 0 1 6 5 3 1 1 .337 0 0.29 0
M. Bennett .296/.321/.370 15 4 27 6 8 0 1 0 6 1 0 0 1 .338 0 0.11 0
M. Wirtz .529/.556/.765 5 4 17 3 9 2 1 0 3 1 0 1 1 .625 0 0.25 0
H. Daff .000/.250/.000 1 1 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 .167 0 0.00 0
Batting Totals: .297/.356/.406 80 80 2885 507 856 130 30 42 449 241 198 66 80 .373 37 23




Pitching Stats GP GS REC SV ERA IP H R ER HR BB K DICE WHIP PIT

C. Botting 36 0 4-4 8 4.60 47.0 50 28 24 1 22 13 4.13 1.53 72
L. Rovai 32 0 1-3 4 4.82 61.2 79 42 33 4 26 16 4.59 1.70 1006
L. Yastrzemski 21 3 2-3 3 4.25 53.0 63 34 25 0 26 14 3.94 1.68 862
B. Brown 20 0 2-2 1 4.50 40.0 49 30 20 2 10 8 4.00 1.48 629
K. Martell 17 17 5-4 0 5.57 95.1 111 73 59 6 36 27 4.38 1.54 1531
M. Hanley 17 5 6-2 0 3.20 56.1 49 24 20 3 27 26 4.21 1.35 899
J. Sutton 16 16 5-7 0 6.15 86.1 115 69 59 8 17 26 4.19 1.53 1387
P. Wilson 15 12 9-1 0 2.90 90.0 82 40 29 3 38 24 4.17 1.33 1394
M. King 11 11 5-2 0 3.41 71.1 75 34 27 4 12 13 3.87 1.22 1005
D. Trails 9 9 2-3 0 4.04 55.2 63 35 25 3 26 20 4.38 1.60 916
T. Widdop 9 7 0-5 0 5.66 47.2 51 31 30 2 15 19 3.69 1.38 701
S. Gyle 6 0 3-0 0 7.94 17.0 21 15 15 0 12 3 4.76 1.94 301
Pitching Totals: 80 80 44-36 16 4.57 721.1 808 455 366 36 267 209 4.18 1.49 11360

[CatKnight]

National League Summary
June 1954



Team W L PCT GB E
Buffalo Bisons 54 27 667 -- ---
Brooklyn Bombers 49 31 613 4.5 70
Washington Federals 44 38 537 10.5 63
Baltimore Canaries 39 40 494 14 61

Kansas City Rustlers 36 43 456 17 58
Cleveland Broncos 35 45 438 18.5 56
Chicago Whalers 33 48 407 21 53
New York Titans 31 49 388 22.5 52


The Bisons continue to lead the National League by a fair margin thanks to acceptable batting and an incredible rotation. The
Bisons already have two pitchers with ten or more wins, including Mike Thomas (86) [29] (12-3 2.42). Thomas is in his sixth
year in the Majors, having been traded to Buffalo from Baltimore in 1952.

Their only true competition right now comes from Brooklyn, who combines the league's best batters (.309 as a team) with the
second best pitching staff behind Buffalo. On their side LF Brian Baldwin (93/94) [29] (.418 11-92) has anchored their lineup.
Baldwin is in his ninth year in the Majors, all with the Bombers.



Batting Average Brian Baldwin (BRO) .418 Bryan Abrams (BRO) .386
Home Runs Al Haffner (CLE) 15 Four tied with 11
Runs Batted In Brian Baldwin (BRO) 52 Tony Teplitsky (WAS) 74
Steals Steve Mallon (WAS) 34 Brian Casavant (CHW) 27

Wins Bob Presto (BRO) 12 Mike Thomas (BUF) 12
Earned Run Average Mike Thomas (BUF) 2.42 Jerry Thomas (BUF) 2.87
Strikeouts Three tied with 51
Saves Joe Burkatova (BRO) 5 Justin Darvell (CHW) 5




Trades:
BRO-NYT - RF Jeff Riffkin (69/71) [26] (.277 0-6)
BRO-NYT - 3B Dave Goodhew (68/70) [30] (.500 0-0 in 8 AB)
BRO-NYT - 2 Minor Leaguers (2xSP)
NYT-BRO - SP Jonathon Winchell (84) [29] (4-6 5.01 4 CG)
* Brooklyn drops some depth to prepare for a run on Buffalo

BUF-CHW - SP Brian Tollemache (83/85) [27] (0-0 3.38 0)
CHW-BUF - SS Adam Chaudhry (80) [35] (.320 5-37 7)
CHW-BUF - 1B Paul Fitzwater (67/69) [25] (Last played 1953)
CHW-BUF - CF Brian Clewlow (70/72) [22] (.200 0-4 1)
* Buffalo takes the opposite tack, trying to build up in several positions to hold off the Bombers.

Milestones:
BAL - 3B Chad McGuffin (65) [38] (.341 4-37 3) - 1000 RBI

Injuries (minimum 2 months):
CHW - SS Dave Phippen (60/62) [28] (.254 0-5 0) - Season
CLE - SS Tony Winters (83) [30] (.271 2-36 8) - Season
NYT - 1B Gerald Shibiz (83) [38] (.360 11-54 1) - Season

Retirements:
None



American League Summary
June 1954



Team W L PCT GB E
Philadelphia Eagles 46 34 575 -- ---
Boston Pilgrims 45 35 563 1 74
New Orleans Blues 44 37 543 2.5 72
Chicago Stars 40 40 500 6 69

St. Louis Redbirds 40 42 488 7 67
Milwaukee Brewers 37 43 463 9 66
New York Kings 36 44 450 10 65
Cincinnati Bulldogs 34 47 420 12.5 62


The Eagles continue to glide on their early success, though they are by no means slouches. The Pilgrims continue to keep
pace, while the Blues caught on fire in June and closed into third place. The Stars and St. Louis are also within reasonable
striking distance before all is said and done.

Notably, the entire American League has remained quiet on the trade front. Look for a very close race down to the wire, with
the winner being whoever can give their team the extra bit needed to persevere.



Batting Average Jason Purcell (MIL) .375 Marc Kluczkowski (CIN) .359
Home Runs Marv Galton (STL) 16 Ed Haitly (PHI) 12
Runs Batted In Jon Moulton (BOS) 75 Gabe Kunst (NYK) 64
Steals Kenneth Crim (MIL) 34 Ray Tindle (BOS) 23

Wins Neal Cook (NYK) 10 Palmer Wilson (NWO) 9
Earned Run Average Marcus Piper (PHI) 2.84 Palmer Wilson (NWO) 2.90
Strikeouts Pat Lent (NYK) 68 Derek Henley (BOS) 56
Saves Andy King (CIN) 9 Chris Botting (NWO) 8




Trades (non-New Orleans):
None

Milestones:
None

Injuries (minimum 2 months):
CHS - SS Cam Weddle (71/73) [23] (.212 0-5 0) - Season
CIN - 3B Brian Trollo (88) [29] (.342 6-56 10) - August
NYK - SP Leon Semple (84) [28] (3-4 4.88 1 CG 1 SV) - September
PHI - RF Aaron Kesler (60/72) [21] (.000 0-0 0 in 1 AB) - Season
STL - LF Bryan Fleck (54) [36] (.280 3-15 2) - Season
STL - 3B Greg Elston (78) [30] (.270 3-31 1) - Season

Retirements:
NWO - CF Lucas MacCulloch (Age 31, 5 seasons)
* 1954 stats - Did Not Play
* Career stats - .289 6-79 22, 145 career hits
* Teams - Redbirds (48-49), Blues (50-53)
* Honors - None

Frankly, I don't remember this guy, so he was never a serious contender for remaking the club. Drafted in 1943, he never
really caught fire: His 'big' season consisted of batting .286 1-27 in 53 games for the '49 Redbirds. The next year he'd bat
.415 3-14 in 41 AB for New Orleans.

[gosensgo101]

Early on it looked like there was little doubt that New Orleans was going to be a 2nd division team, and now they're only 2 and a half games back heading into June. Definatey a (pleasent) surprise. You better hope that rotation holds up though, that what seemed to kill you early on.

[CatKnight]

gosensgo: Now that you remind me of it, you're right. I think the tide really turned when I started tinkering with the rotation. That job's going to get harder though, as pitchers I thought at the time washed up (Martell and Sutton) are putting in really solid performances.
*******

July 1, 1954


"Mr. Pennington, I'm a very busy man," General Manager Ed Hasley told me as I walked into his office on a blistering hot morning. He looked uncomfortable and rigid in his shirt sleeves - Hasley's jacket hung from a hook by the door. Stale sweat dripped down his face, and pure necessity forced him to abandon his alcohol in favor of a bottle of water.

"You asked to see me?" That much was a surprise, first since Hasley and I didn't really get along anymore, and second as it was a morning appointment. Getting Ed into the office before noon took real effort.

"Yes, and you're late."

Frankly, I didn't think you'd be here. "Sorry, sir." I sat down across from him.

He stared at me for a moment, then passed a list to me. "Roster changes. No, I don't want your opinion."

"Well, you're getting one. Dexter Mulkey!?" Mulkey (74/75) [30] was our starting catcher in Birmingham.

"I am not in the mood to argue with you, sir."

"Good, then leave him off!" I rolled up his list and struck his desk. "What is it with you and catchers, Ed? We have three. You know I'd prefer to run with two. What are we going to do with FOUR?"

"Catchers are very versatile players," Hasley sniffed. "Mulkey played nearly seventy games for us last year. Do you not think he deserves a chance?"

"Sure, Ed, but..."

"Well then."

"I can't run with four catchers. Seth D'Anorade's already complaining about not getting enough playing time, and the only reason we used Henry is because you specifically asked. Bevilacqua..."

"I never told you to play Henry," Hasley retorted. "Damn fool move if you ask me. We don't need his stock with the younger generation going down because he is underperforming!"

"You didn't 'insist' that I use Daff on Sunday?"

He shoved the bottle in my direction. "You need this more than I, sir, if you are recalling conversations that never occured!"

I'll kill him. "We don't need a fourth catcher. We do need Herskovitz, who you'd like to demote."

"You have infielders," he sighed. "Herskovitz wishes to be a shortstop. We have Jeff Dobry there. Next to him at second is Tom Simmons, who'd proven quite capable in Clark's absence. What do you wish to do with Herskovitz?"

"Make him a catcher."

Hasley glared at me with sunken red eyes. "Your jest is not a good one, sir."

"Then perhaps this is better. He's a backup. With Thirlwell taking a few days off I've moved Bennett from the bench to third. If anything else happens before Chuck Clark can return, I'm going to need him full time."

"Fine!" Hasley snapped, probably just to shut me up, which was indeed just fine.

We turned to pitching, where again he proposed one simple change. This one I had no problem with:

to Birmingham (AAA): SP Sean Gyle (81/85) [26] (3-0 7.94)
to New Orleans: SP Damien Trails (79) [32] (2-3 4.33 1 CG earlier in the season)

"No comment?" chided Hasley. "I thought you would object to this as well."

"No." I stared at the names. Trails and Gyle both struggled in their respective roles. We needed to make a guess who could help us more down the stretch, and the older Damien Trails seemed the right choice.

*******

"And now I have some business," I said as he closed his folders and shoved them into his desk. He gave me a harried, frustrated look.

"This can't wait?"

"I don't think so. I have an idea on how to improve the team for the rest of the year, and save Mr. Himes some money."

He grunted and took back his water bottle. "A trade?"

"Yes, sir. If we unload...."

"God damn it, man! You're the team manager now - the interim manager I will add - and now you want to cross into my regime once more?"

"It's not that, it's..."

"Oh, I think it is! Mr. Pennington, you are a frustrating man, sir. As far as general managing, I hired you to learn from me, not to try and dictate terms! Further..."

"I am not dictating terms! I am telling you that we can impro...."

"Further, sir, you are now the field manager with Mr. Gayle ill! I would strongly suggest you concentrate on those people you have to work with, and leave the trades and contracts to me!"

My idea would have rid the club of Seth D'Anorade's contract: Great catcher, but at age 34 he's on the tail end of his career, and as has been noted repeatedly we have catchers. With him would go two AAA pitchers with major league contracts. In return we'd get Carlo Thuber, the center fielder the Titans seemed so eager to get rid of.

"I thought the field and general manager were supposed to work together on improving the team," I said quietly.

"Well, you thought wrong!"
******

Proposed Trade (vetoed by Hasley)
NWO-NYT: C Seth D'Anorade (84) [35] (.303 1-18 0) [$23.3K through 1955]
NWO-NYT: SP Michael Ross (79) [32] (Last played MLB 1952) [$19.9K through 1954]
NWO-NYT: SP Ross Larson (77) [33] (Last played MLB 1952) [$15.4K through 1956]
NYT-NWO: CF Carlo Thurber (83) [32] (.347 1-25 11) [$37K through 1956]

[CatKnight]

COMMENT: So, I've spent the past two weeks wracking my brains looking for something to write about for National Novel Writing Month. Some of you have kindly suggested I write a book, and it's something I'd like to do.

Well, I have the topic, though I need more time to research it. I still wanted to do something, though, and I kept thinking about Requiem.

"Bread..." was and is meant to be fun, a not-so-serious project with very little in the way of plot. Last night SrMeow asked me on that forum when I'd get back to this, and I spent some time thinking about what he said.

It's probably a mistake to work on two projects at once. It's far too easy to get fatally sidetracked. Writing, like many endeavors, takes a significant amount of energy to get started. After awhile things settle down and the story writes itself - but if you stop and start again, then it takes that much more effort to once more get things back where you want them.

So, I asked myself where I wanted to spend my effort, and which one needed to wait til I reached a natural stopping place. This is the more serious, more...literary?....effort for me right now. It has something resembling a plot, and I like most of the characters I'm dealing with. "Bread" is more about a cool setting.

"Script" therefore is my submission to NaNoWriMo. I'm certainly not giving it 3,000 or so words per day, especially since I have a capricious writing partner (BM10), but my goal is to give it something.

Expect more this evening after work. :)

[RandyTiger]

Didn't know you were a part of NaNoWriMo - I've done it a few times, but decided to pass it up this year as I've already got a few stories underway, and expect to submit one of them in the near future.

Looking forward to more of this interesting story! :D

[OldYankFan]

COMMENT:
It's probably a mistake to work on two projects at once. It's far too easy to get fatally sidetracked.

I agree with that. While writing The Major, the Captain and I, the idea for Break-up the Yankees kept intruding into my thoughts. So much so, that I worked Berra and Stengel into the last few chapters of the first story. (and that was kind of fun). I thought I had an obligation to put the first story to bed before starting another.

I would like to see you write Script to a fitting conclusion before moving on. But, you must follow your inner desires or it will all seem like work.

[SrMeowMeow]

Excellent.

[CatKnight]

RandyTiger: I'm not a formal part of NaNoWriMo, but since my number one problem with trying to write a book or anything else is discipline, making some kind of commitment to myself sounds like a good start.

OldYankFan: It's amazing how the characters started 'talking' to me pretty much as soon as I reopened the save file. I'm looking forward to writing this through the pennant chase.

SrMeowMeow: :)
*******

Early July 1954


After one very frustrating conversation with Ed Hasley, I raced through the streets of New Orleans to reach the airport. Due to stormy weather in the Midwest, our plane didn't land in New Orleans until 9 AM and wouldn't board passengers until ten. We had a game in New York at 7.

"Coach! Over here!" Pitcher Josh Sutton stood in the wide aisle between gates, the single ballplayer amidst a sea of tourists and businessmen moving hurriedly towards their flights. He waved wildly and I strode towards him.

A bald young man wearing what appeared to be an orange robe stepped into my path and pressed a flower into my hand. "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna" he told me solemnly.

"Ah...thank you." I hurried past him before he could recommend a donation.

Sutton nodded and took my elbow. "Gate nine, Coach. Everyone's on board but us." A stewardess in sky blue took our tickets, and a few minutes later we sat in first class next to a man in a suit, his excited wife, and their restless brat. The latter bawled when they closed the doors, bawled some more when the stewardess tried to discuss basic safety with us, and truly resented it when the engines roared to life.

"Why aren't you back with the players, Sutton?" I demanded. "You're in Bill's seat." Bill McDonald, our pitching coach, was now effectively my assistant.

"We switched," Josh said. "I wanted to talk to you for a minute."

"The last time we talked didn't go so well," I retorted.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" screamed the child. His mother finally took notice and picked him up.

"Coach, I swear to you - I told no one about our deal. Well, outside the pitching staff."

"The pitching staff?"

He nodded. "I didn't think I could get Henry to quit alone, so I was going to get some of the others to throw at him too. Kevin (Martell), Luke (Yastrzemski), Lucas (Rovai). I hinted to Palmer, but he shut down so quickly that I backed off."

"Shut down how?"

"He grew very distant when I said some players didn't belong on the team. He gave me some dribble about how anyone who wears his uniform is family, and I shouldn't try to cause trouble."

"What does he know?" I asked flatly.

"Nothing. I didn't get far with him at all."

*******

New Orleans (44-37) (3rd, -2.5g) at New York (36-44) (7th, -10g)

1: Generally solid offensive play leads us past New York. Hanley pitched seven superb innings - and one poor one, but by then we had six runs to spare. Seth D'Anorade hit an RBI double off the bench while his competitor behind the plate, Bevilacqua, hit two RBIs of his own. Blues 7-5
WP-Hanley (7-2), SV-Widdop (1), HR-Hobby (7)
*******

Matt Bennett hurt his elbow. He'll only miss a few days, but suddenly I'm very happy I talked Hasley out of demoting SS Chris Herskovitz. We now have no infielders on the bench - and three injured players.
*******

2: New York takes a 3-0 lead into the seventh. We score two runs in the next two frames, then the Kings score in the bottom of the ninth to lock us at 4 a piece. Alan Hobby hit a one-run homer with two outs in the tenth to pull ahead, and RP Burt Brown made sure it wasn't in vain. Hobby went 3 for 5 on the day, only missing out on a triple to hit for the cycle. Blues 5-4 (10)
WP-Widdop (1-5), SV-Brown (2), HR-Hobby (8)
*******

Make that four injured players. C Seth D'Anorade will miss a day or two with a bruised foot. That means our backup catcher is....is...

Eep.
*******

3: It's hard to believe our lineup is suffering when we earn seven runs and thirteen hits. Kevin Martell isn't brilliant on the mound, but he does pitch a complete game and contribute to the cause with a 3 for 4, 3 run, 2 RBI performance. Enough said. Blues 7-4
WP-Martell (6-4), HR-Martell (1)

COMMENT: This is the first time I've seen a fictional pitcher homer.
*******

We're off for Independence Day, and thank God. Doc Rabbone promised me that I'd have most of my lineup back before the Chicago series, and everyone else after the All Star Break.

Rob Gayle called me (on the team's dime) after every game to go over every nuance of what happened. He seems to be regaining strength rapidly, for which I'm grateful.

"This room is like a damned prison!" Gayle complained. "I want out. Tell Doc I'm rejoining the team after the break, and I don't care what he says!"

One thing I didn't share was my conversation with Sutton. Do I believe him? I don't know. He seems earnest, but then again, so does Henry Daff and I don't trust him at all. He described the quiet, thoughtful Palmer Wilson to a tee, but I can't see Wilson causing trouble for me.

Further, while the idea of being betrayed still stings and I still want to know who did it ... it may not matter. The team's unified, first and foremost behind Rob, but also behind me. We've won too many games with me at the helm for naysayers to ignore. Once Clark and Ford come back from their "injuries" I'm hoping we can put all of this behind us.
*******

New Orleans (47-37) (3rd, -2g) at Chicago (40-43) (4th, -8.5g)

5; Seth D'Anorade makes a strong case for being our starting catcher by throwing three base stealers out. Bevilacqua, meanwhile, starts at 1B to give Baucom a day off....and has two errors. The errors prove fatal as our only run comes on a double-tag up (with the runner on third being thrown out.) Stars 6-1
LP-Wilson (9-2)
*******

"Coach Pennington? Do you have a minute?"

I looked up into the frowning face of Mike King (5-2 3.45 4 CG). King started the year in New Orleans at Hasley's insistence and quickly earned the faith Ed placed in him. For awhile he was our most dominant starter, though four of his last five starts were indifferent at best. I nodded and waved him in.

"Coach, I know I'm scheduled to start on Wednesday but...but I'd like to go home until after the break."

I nodded. "I understand wanting to start your vacation early, Mike, but..."

"It's not that. It's...well, my mother's sick. She has been for awhile. I haven't been able to visit her and I'd like to see how she's doing."

California. His family was in and around Los Angeles. Well, that certainly explained why he hadn't seen her. "Is it serious?"

"I don't know, Coach. She says no, but my mom...she doesn't like to worry people, you know?"

I looked into his strained eyes. Mike was thirty-five, approaching the age when people begin having to face their parents' eventual mortality. I sighed. "Go."

He gave me a half-hearted smile. "Thank you. I'll see you on the 11th."

I knew Gayle would give me hell when I told him, but some things are more important than baseball.
******

6: Chicago ace Tony Crossman pitches a complete game as our pitchers combine to give up sixteen hits. Our defenders aren't much better (four errors.) Our offense is a joke, though 2B Tom Simmons (3 for 4) at least makes an appearance. Stars 10-2
LP-Hanley (7-3)

7: With Mike King out, I thought I'd give Luke Yastrzemski a chance to show us what he'd learned during his period of relative inactivity. The answer is: Not much. He's shelled, our relievers fare little better, and our offense is still meh. Stars 8-1
*******

We now enter the All Star Break. Thank God.

Chuck Clark (.338 1-33 4 SB) is about ready to come off his suspension. He'll probably move back into the starting lineup, while Tom Simmons (.318 2-28 3) returns to the bench. It's too bad, for Simmons has really shone.

Meanwhile, my patience has run out on Yastrzemski. Ed Hasley probably won't let me demote him..and I'm not sure he deserves it...but I can certainly put him in the bullpen and give someone else spot starts. That someone will be Sutton. I don't know if he betrayed me or not, but I need his arm right now.

The sweep may prove to be our undoing, for the Eagles have won 8 of 10 and the Pilgrims are on a ten game winning streak. That means we tumbled to five games out of first ... well within striking distance, but our attempt to earn the first pennant in club history just became much harder.

Gayle comes back after the break - Doc Rabbone confirmed it should be okay. I can't wait.
*******

COMMENT: Updated .mog file, for the curious.

[CatKnight]

July 9, 1954

The flight from Chicago left at some ungodly hour that may of made sense to the powers that be at O'Hare Airport, but let me dazed sitting in the front of a Lockheed Constellation with Chicago Stars manager Tom Simmons. The veteran grimly went through several cups of coffee in the air while working through the lineup he wanted to use for the All Star Game.

With us flew three representatives from the Stars, including last year's Pitcher of the Year Tony Crossman, and four Blues: Dan Baucom would start at first, while Lee Bevilacqua represented New Orleans behind the plate. Mike Hanley and Palmer Wilson would be available to pitch. Henry Daff came as well, but in his role as reporter/announcer.

Finally Simmons finished with both his lineup and coffee and cast a speculative look in my direction. At least that's what I imagine it was - my attention was drawn to a flock of birds that seemed to be practicing formation flying with us.

"How's Rob?"

"Eh?" I turned away from the grey mallards, their bodies bright in the crystal blue early morn. "He's recovering, Tom."

He looked sidelong. "I hope so. We miss him."

"He should be back after the Break. Our doc cleared him just two nights ago."

Tom regarded me for a moment, then his expression relaxed. "Well, thank God. He gave us all a scare. What the hell happened anyway?"

"Heat exhaustion," I said. "He just worked himself too hard that day."

Simmons looked askance. "Is that so?" He shook his head and smiled. "Don't kid a kidder, son. No..." He held up a hand against my protest. "I've watched Rob for years. That wasn't the heat."

"You'd...have to ask him then," I said lamely.

"I thought as much." He settled back in his seat, folded his hands across his chest and shut his eyes. "You seem like a good fellow, Ty. Just don't be so quick to protect Rob that you cut him off from his friends, eh?"

"It's not that." He looked at me. "It's....Rob values his privacy."

"Don't we all?" Simmons squinted back. "Close that window, would you? I'd like to sleep a little before we land."
********

Liberty Field in Philadelphia, renovated in the years following World War II, was filled with a cheerful, raucous crowd in Eagles purple and white. They had good reason to be happy, as their team led the American League for pretty much the entire season. Just as importantly, it would be a heated pennant race through the summer into autumn with both the Pilgrims and our Blues challenging Philly for dominance.

First Commissioner Bowes, a thin man in his sixties showing the earliest signs of osteoperosis, stepped to the pitcher's mound followed by a larger man in his late forties wearing a Kansas City Rustlers uniform. They stood at attention with the rest of us, hats on our hearts, as soldiers presented our colors and a local singer led us through the National Anthem, then Bowes spoke:

His companion, it appeared, was Todd Marcy. Marcy was the legendary Albany Rivermen/Pirate shortstop during their streak of five Cups and six pennants in seven years (1928-34). In twenty seasons he earned his five rings, seven Gold Gloves, and went to thirteen All Star Games. A generation of shortstops - my generation - grew up wanting to be like him.

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/marcyasg.png

Marcy certainly was a brilliant player, but he was no orator and stumbled through his thank yous. Fortunately the Philly crowd remained complacent and applauded as if he were General Eisenhower himself.

I heard a huff next to me, then someone sank into the seat next to mine. "Did I miss the derby?"

"Rob!" I turned. Gayle was red-faced and a little shaky, but beaming. He leaned forward, gripping the chair in front of him and studied the field. "I thought you were going to wait until after the break!"

"Bah! I didn't want to wait anymore."

"So you flew in with Ed?"

"Hasley? Hell, no. He's not coming 'til tomorrow. Summer Meetings aren't 'til the day after the game anyway."

I nodded and settled back. "Tom Simmons was asking about you," and I told him about my flight with the Chicago manager.

His expression softened. "Well, Tom doesn't need to worry about me. I'm fine!" He slapped the chair. "Hell, Peacock, I just needed to rest a little and get away from Doc's treatments. I haven't felt this good in months!" Gayle nodded as several players left the home dugout for the derby. "Are any of our boys in there?"

"Baucom." I checked my paper. "He bats eighth."

The Home Run Derby attracted some of the strongest batters in the CBA. Gerald Shibiz, the recently injured Titan first baseman, would miss the rest of the season but rallied long enough to participate. Tony Teplitsky, who married Marilyn Monroe over the winter. Marv Galton, the all-time home run leader. Brian Baldwin in Brooklyn was still batting over. 400 wtih nearly 100 RBIs. Local favorite Ed Haitly represented the Eagles.

ROUND ONE:

It really wasn't a good day for the longball, as only five players managed more than one homer in ten tries. Baucom hit one homer (in his seventh attempt), but couldn't seem to quite get under the ball as he drilled the wall twice. Baltimore's Troy Garren took the early lead followed closely by New York's Gerald Shibiz, who dominated despite breaking his back a month ago.



PLAYER HR CURRENT STATS
Troy Garren (BAL) 5 (.329 11-53)
Gerald Shibiz (NYT) 4 (.360 11-54)
Tony Teplitsky (WAS) 3 (.333 12-81)
Marv Galton (STL) 3 (.361 17-51)
-----------------------------------------------------
Al Haffner (CLE) 2 (.324 15-65)
Ed Haitly (PHI) 1 (.317 12-61)
Brian Baldwin (BRO) 1 (.406 13-98)
Jon Moulton (BOS) 1 (.353 9-80)
Jason Purcell (MIL) 1 (.375 9-65)
Dan Baucom (NWO) 1 (.322 8-60)


ROUND TWO:

With only five outs allowed, the second round separated this year's consistent powermongers from those who were lucky last round. Garren dropped out to be replaced by home run legend Marv Galton.



PLAYER HR
Marv Galton (STL) 3
Gerald Shibiz (NYT) 2
--------------------------------------
Tony Teplitsky (WAS) 1
Troy Garren (BAL) 1


ROUND THREE:

Shibiz's back finally started to bother him and he hunched at the plate during his turn. Nonetheless, he still hit a single shot out of the park, his last of 1954. Marv Galton did slightly better to add to his growing legend.



PLAYER HOMERS
MARV GALTON (STL) 2
Gerald Shibiz (NYT) 1


*******

After the derby Gayle and I had a few drinks before retiring for the night. Overall, despite the early start, it was a good day and looking out my hotel window into the evening Philadelphia sky I drank a beer and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

If I'd known, I wouldn't have been so complacent.

AMERICAN LEAGUE
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/alasg.png

NATIONAL LEAGUE
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/nlasg.png

[OldYankFan]

July 9, 1954

New York's Gerald Shibiz, who dominated despite breaking his back a month ago.



Don't you love when the game hands you something like that to write about? :confused:

[CatKnight]

OYF: Oh yeah. I suppose I could have hidden Shibiz's injury in the name of logic (and sanity,) but little logic CFs like this amuse me.
*******
July 9, 1954
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania


"I'm fine, Peacock!" Gayle snapped.

"Drink!" I ordered, pressing the lemonade into his hands. The temperature was 120-something and getting worse as fans crowded Liberty Field. Somewhere above the murmur of humanity I heard the staccato thrum of cicadas. Like most men at the park that foul evening I wore my shirt open at the collar and wrists. I tilted my fedora over my head to keep out the relentless sun and still the beginnings of a headache.

Rob seemed impervious to the heat, though he respected my unspoken but earnest desire for silence and settled for surveying the field as if he hadn't been been here a hundred times before.

"Peanuts! Popcorn! Programs!" shouted a vendor by my ear. I lifted my hat and eyed him - an older man dressed in white.

"I'll take an electric fan."

He smirked. "That's funny, mister. You're a regular Jackie Gleason! Here." He dropped a program in my hands. "Two bits."

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/54ASG.png

Waved rapidly in front of my face, it answered surprisingly well and I managed to drift until someone plucked off my hat and thrust it into my chest.

"What in...?"

"Shh!" Gayle hissed, surging to his feet with forty thousand other people. Shame-faced, I stood as seven men took center stage. Six dressed conservatively enough in powder blue jackets and slacks with white shirts and bow ties. Their leader, however, was a grinning man with brown hair and a spit curl, a single thick lock over his forehead, whose plaid red and green jacket looked like it might do well enough on a Scottish tartan.

I thought I recognized him. I did recognize his name.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the stadium announcer. "With our national anthem, Mr. Bill Haley and his Com..."

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/1957comets.jpg
Bill Haley and the Comets, 1957. Haley is on the top right.

"Rock and roll," I hissed at Gayle. "What in hell are they doing?"

"He sang country before rock," Gayle retorted. "Shh!"

As it turned out, Haley did well enough while his coterie stood at silent, respectful attention. The younger boys in the crowd ate it up, while their parents pursed their lips and grandparents openly frowned. I imagined tomorrow's summer meetings just picked up a new agenda item regarding Philadelphia's taste in music.
*******

Chicago ace Tony Crossman took the mound for the American League while Kansas City's Jay Hebert pitched on the National League's behalf. Hebert gave up a single to Boston's Greg Mason to start the game. Our Dan Baucom grounded out immediately thereafter. With two outs, Redbird slugger Marv Galton hit an RBI single, stole second, and came home on Pilgrim shortstop Jon Moulton's hit. Lee Bevilacqua then flied out to left to end the inning. Americans 2-0

The Nationals struck back when Cleveland's Al Haffner and Buffalo's Aaron Heim got on base with no outs. Haffner scored on a grounder to second, while Heim came home when Canary 2B Steve Kirshenbaum singled. In the bottom frame Milwaukee's Jason Purcell and Chicago PH Marc Olson singled off Buffalo's Mike Schaefer to put men at the corners with one out. Mason brought home Purcell, but then Baucom hit into a 5-4-3 double play to end the inning. Americans 3-2

We weren't done: Brewer Steve Belsey pitched the third and barely escaped after Federal star Tony Teplitsky, Brooklyn .400+ hitter Brian Baldwin and Heim loaded the bases with two outs. Bomber teammate Jeremy Armstrong grounded to first to end the threat. In our half Galton singled with one out, Moulton reached on an error, then Bevilacqua doubled home Galton. Hometown hero Ed Haitley grounded to short for out number two, but this brought Moulton home and he still received a warm ovation. Purcell grounded out to end the inning. Americans 5-2

Anyone who chose to count the Nationals out would be disappointed though: A third Brooklyner, Bryan Abrams, opened with a walk. One out later Greg Daves of the Broncos PH for Schaefer and hit a single. Whaler C Mark Audet walked to load the bases, then Teplitsky hit into a grounder to second to help even the score. In the bottom half the AL once more threatened as Mason reached on an error, then went to third on Baucom's double. Eagle C Tony Estes flied to deep left. Mason took off for home but was thrown out. Americans 5-3

So the game settled into a semi-coherent pattern. Cleveland's Al Haffner and Aaron Heim reached base in the fifth, but couldn't capitalize on it any more than Moulton's double and Bevilacqua's single a frame later. They earned a walk in the sixth, while we replied with two singles.

In the seventh Mike Hanley came in and held them to two runners, while Buffalo's Brian Dorney held us to a single runner (Bevilacqua reached on an error.) They fell in order in the eighth, while we drew blood on Canary pitcher Reed Hadley.

Purcell singled to open that frame, then Mason reached on yet another error with one out. Baucom hit a sharp single to left to bring Purcell home. Mason tagged up on an Estes sacrifice to extend our lead. Americans 7-3

AL manager Tom Simmons called on Boston's Curt Carter to shut the door once and for all. This almost failed miserably as the first three batters reached. Armstrong flew to left, allowing Brooklyn's Baldwin to come home on the sac. Abrams then grounded into a double play to end the game.


American League 7, National League 4

*******

While the media debated who deserved MVP honors, we retreated to the cool confines of the picnic area, an open stretch on the far side of the promenade encircling the field. Here the Eagles erected a number of wooden tables in Philadelphia purple on a raised concrete platform open to the night air.

Cool was a relative term given the muggy night and large number of families who'd already taken refuge here. Still, there was a breeze. It smelled of tar and waste, the faintest hint of salt mixed with sulfur from distant mines and the sweat of forty thousand bodies who'd just spent three hours witnessing a baseball game. It felt cool on my skin though, and Gayle and I sank on a bench already occupied by two couples and a child who no doubt belonged to one of them.

No sooner had we composed ourselves then Henry Daff appeared waving a microphone. He opened his mouth, but I was faster.

"God damn it, man! Did you follow us?"

He ignored us and spoke into the mike "This is Henry Daff, live in Philadelphia with Blues manager Tyler Pennnington. Coach Pennington, how did you enjoy the game?"

"Get that out of my face before I shove it somewhere Loyola won't let you broadcast from." WWL radio was owned by the Jesuits at Loyola University.

"Classy!" Daff said brightly. "And next to him we have former manager Robert Gayle. Mr. Gayle, what will you do now that you're no longer in baseball?"

Gayle flushed an unhealthy burgundy red and surged to his feet. "I'll be back with the team in two days, Daff!"

"Not according to...." He paused, looked confused and turned off his mike.

"According to whom?" I demanded.

"Didn't Uncle Ed tell you?"

"Tell us what?"

"He...announced it earlier tonight. What do you mean he didn't tell you? I'm sure he must have."

"Help me!" I snapped as Rob teetered. He pitched forward slightly, but caught himself on the table with both arms and shook his head violently. "Get out," he whispered.

"Rob?" I reached to help him sit.

"Get OUT!"

"But...at least let me...."

"GET THE **** OUT!"

Gasps from our neighbors. One of the ladies covered the child's ears while her husband, a man my age in a short sleeved shirt and slacks, stood. "Hey now, mister. Not in front of the women and children, eh?"

Gayle turned on him sharply with a look of such savagery he shrank back. Gayle pointed a trembling finger at him and took several harsh, shuddering breaths. Finally he mastered himself enough to step over the bench seat.

I must have jerked forward, for suddenly that finger and glare were both directed at me. Then and there I had a fair idea what looking down a barrel must be like.

Slowly he backed away, still pointing at each of us in turn as if he were warding us off with a gun. Once he'd convinced himself no one would follow, Gayle turned and stormed away.

"That's some friend you have," the father muttered, but quietly. I whirled and grabbed Daff's jacket.

"Hey! Easy, coach!"

"Ed fired Gayle?" I demanded. He nodded rapidly, paling. "Where is he?" I shook him for emphasis.

"Rembrandt Hotel! Room 214!"

I released him and stormed in Rob's wake.

*******

In the confused silence following my departure, the PA system squawked into life announcing that Redbird outfielder Marv Galton was named the game's most valuable player for his 3 for 5, 2 run, 1 RBI performance. Daff muttered a quick introduction into his microphone then held it up as Galton spoke.

"Playing baseball is a lot like living life," he said. "Whenever you see something you want, whether it's a job or a wife or a ball down the plate, you have to go after it with everything you have. Do that and you can't fail."

http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x155/CatsOfWar/Blues/1954%20Season/galton.png

[CatKnight]

"Who is it?" Ed called through the shut hotel room door, white with a brass handle.

"Ty Pennington."

Pause. "Come back tomorrow, Mr. Pennington. I'm a very busy...."

***SLAM*** The door shuddered and visible spidery lines appeared in its frame as I rammed it with my shoulder.

"What the devil...."

"Open this door, or I break it down!" I snarled.

Another pause, a murmured conversation, then finally he released the bolt with an audible click.

"What IS it, Pennington?" Hasley demanded. Disheveled was too polite a word - his hair went in ten directions at least. His shirt was open to the waist revealing a few grey hairs and pasty skin. He smelled of sweat. The room smelled like perfume. There was another scent in the air also, fresh, sour and....ewww.

"You couldn't even wait until we got home?" I snorted.

"I'm busy!" Hasley snapped.

"I'm sure." Four steps took me to the closed bathroom door, which I thumped three times. "You can go home now!"

Ed's face mottled red. "Get out before I...I....!"

"What? Fire me?" I stalked back to him. "Like you fired Rob Gayle? Without even telling him to his face?"

"I couldn't find either of you!" Hasley shouted.

"You would have if you were at the game instead of whoring around!"

His face twisted. "You son of a..."

The bathroom door opened and a small woman - girl really, darted past. Blond, thin, mostly dressed though she'd chosen to wait until she was outside for her shoes, she opened the door.

"Mindy! Wait!"

She turned and cast him a hurt, confused look.

"I mean Sam! Wait a minute. He's just..."

'Sam' left, slamming the door behind her. Hasley took a few steps towards the door, hand half stretched towards it, and paused.

"Hasley," I said after several seconds, mostly to remind him he wasn't alone.

He whispered something and trembled, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths. For a second I thought he was crying. I didn't care. Which is good, because I was wrong. A few seconds later he turned. Bloodshot eyes, the same mottled face, the same twisted snarl, though now he added a low growl to his repetoire and his hands flexed like claws. "*******," he whispered.

I know Hasley's kind. Whatever their other traits, good or bad (mostly bad), they're physical cowards. I decided to call his bluff and stepped towards him. "You will reinstate Gayle," I told him. I jabbed his shoulder lightly as a warning. "You will..."

"*******!" he shrieked. By the time I realized he was quite serious, his fist connected with my jaw. I tasted blood and my vision dimmed for a moment. Hasley compounded his advantage by slamming me into the side table, its hard wooden rim like a club against my hips. I stumbled and shielded myself against the barrage of fists and curses with raised arms.

I twisted to the side and Hasley pitched forward. I tried to wrap my arm around his bull like neck for a headlock, but he shrugged me off as if I wasn't there. Once more I stumbled, this time I fell on my bruised hips. He turned around, found me there and laughed. "Son of a *****," he swore. "Think you know everything. You know NOTHING! Son of a *****!" Hasley reared his foot back to punt me square in the ribs. I managed to shove his foot away with both hands in a modified block. Ed teetered on one foot for a moment, then it was his turn to crash to the earth.

This time I was quicker. I jumped on top of him while he was still on all fours trying to rise and this time established my headlock. He thrashed like a beached whale and snarled. "Easy, Hasley!" I told him. "Easy!" When he'd relaxed a little, I said, "Now, this is what you're going to do. You're going to..."

He reached behind with both hands. This caused his head to smack on the floor and both of us to pitch forward, but he managed to get one fist into my hair. He yanked out a great tuft. I screamed. My grip loosened and he rolled out from under me.

Hasley's a big, mostly sedentary man. This kind of exertion had to be killing him, and certainly he looked a little shaky as we stood. The mad gleam in his eyes though, his hands loose and ready at his sides, told me he wasn't quite done yet. I certainly wasn't - my hips, arms and chest hurt, and I'm pretty sure I chipped a tooth, but I'd be damned if I was beaten by a fat...

The door opened; Hasley hadn't had a chance to relatch it before I charged in, and two police officers burst in. It didn't take them more than two seconds of looking around to confirm reports of fighting and one pointed his baton at both of us. "The hotel wants you out!"

Hasley huffed at me for a moment longer, but mastered himself and turned to the officers with something resembling a grimace. "Of course. I'll pack now....He," with a look in my direction, "is an unwanted guest."

'Baton' beckoned me out and his partner took me into the hall. The usual questions: Was I hurt? How did the fight start? Where could I be reached? No arrests - this was 1954, and a fight between two willing participants with no major injuries didn't signify. Plus, if either of us pressed charges we'd both be locked up.

As we finished up, Hasley came out, still disheveled with a trenchcoat and fedora over his clothes and a suitcase clutched in both hands. He turned towards me, his voice calm, but with a hard, ragged edge. "Mr. Pennington. I will see you in New Orleans, sir. Tell Mr. Gayle," he lifted his chin and jerked it at me like a parting shot, "I said to have a nice retirement."

"That's enough," 'Baton' rumbled. He took Hasley's elbow and escorted him away.

[RandyTiger]

Nothing like some nice drama to enliven a story, heh.

Well done.

[CatKnight]

Randy: I guess!
*******

Mid July 1954

It was strange enough that I found myself in a full fledged brawl with my general manager.

It was even stranger (and somewhat sad) that Hasley fought me to a virtual draw. I certainly didn't win.

Strangest of all, I didn't land in New Orleans to find out I'd been fired.

Perhaps Hasley took some responsibility for starting the melee. Perhaps he wanted to keep me on edge. Certainly I'd lost any chance of getting him to reinstate Rob Gayle. I'd have to go around him...somehow...
*******

New York (37-50) (8th, -15g) at New Orleans (47-40) (3rd, -5g)

11: The official explanation is that Gayle's retiring due to his health. Some players accept it. Most don't and are rather upset. Most of them see fit to blame me. Perhaps that's the plan. Nonetheless they manage to turn their anger on the visiting Kings as we once more resume our advance on first. Blues 6-1
WP-Martell (7-4)

12: Chuck Clark finally returns to the lineup . In the #1 spot he goes 3 for 4 with 3 runs and is instrumental, along with Presson (2 for 4, 2 runs 3 RBI) in our victory. Certainly it's not our pitching, as we squander a 7-0 lead and end up fighting for our lives in the ninth. Blues 8-7
WP-Wilson (10-2), SV-Botting (9), HR-Presson (10)
*******

After the game Mike King knocks on my door. At 5-2 with a 3.45 ERA, the 35 year old has nothing more to prove to anyone. At the beginning of the season I would have happily sent him to AAA, but in one of his rare good decisions Ed Hasley refused. By virtue of his experience (this is his eleventh year in a Blues uniform) he wound up being team captain. Soft spoken and even a little reclusive, he's never once taken on the role of team spokesman - until today.

"Coach." He sat and stared at me for a moment, composing his thoughts. I let him and leaned back, steepling my fingers.

"Some...several...players are very unhappy Rob's gone. You told us you had nothing to do with that." He shrugged slightly. "So we want to know what you're doing about it."

"Nothing right now." I shook my head. "I tried to talk to Ed Hasley before we left Philadelphia. It went very badly. Anything I say right now is only going to make it worse. I fear he'd keep Gayle out only to spite me."

"Then shouldn't you resign? Coach, you're a great...coach, but Rob is the heart of this team. We miss him. A lot of us don't think it's fair that we're making our first legitimate pennant run in years and he's not here."

"So do I." But I wouldn't resign. Part of me thought it wasn't worth it, that I could probably get another job elsewhere after the post season, but I'd worked hard to get us here also, damn it. I deserved the shot at the pennant as much as anyone.

"Coach.." King's voice took on a more formal, stronger tone. "I should inform you that if there's no movement...if there aren't signs that Rob's coming back sooner rather than later, there are some players who plan to strike during the next home series."

"Oh? Are you one of these players? Give me names." Not that he needed to. I could guess who was organizing this.

He shook his head. "No, coach. I won't do that. As for whether I'd strike as well..." He shook his head slowly. "I don't know."
*******

13: A strike may be on the way, but it doesn't show quite yet. Then again, neither does our bullpen as we squander a 6-1 lead. New York scores in the eleventh on a single and two sac bunts. We..do not. Clark gets another three hits, while four others get two. Nice going, pitchers. Kings 9-8 (11)
LP-Brown (2-3)

14: "Arm's sore." Whether it's the beginning of the 'strike' or a sign of age, Mike King took himself out of the game after 0.2 innings trailing 3-0. Luke Yastrzemski came in...and was brilliant. 8.1 innings, 1 hit, 1 walk. Maybe we'll give him Mike's next start and see what happens. On offense we slowly fought our way back with Presson going 3 for 4 with 3 RBI and, as an added bonus, Yaz batting 2 for 4 with 2 RBI of his own. Blues 7-3
WP-Yastrzemski (3-4)
*******

"I wish you to speak to your friend," Doc Rabbone told me after the game. "Coach Gayle."

"Rob's not speaking to me," I said, looking up from a list of possible starters for our next series. Usually my steady knocks were met with silence. Yesterday he threw something at the door and it shattered. This morning Mrs. Wilson asked me to 'leave the poor man alone' and hinted I might be happier at other lodgings.

"Nonetheless you must try," Rabbone replied. "I have left four messages with the staff at his boarding house today. Tomorrow he is due to have radiation therapy. He stated that he will not be coming. I have given him three weeks off. It has already been too long, we must continue if we are to arrest his cancer."

"Do you still think he can beat this?"

His eyes narrowed. "That is for God to say. As I have told you once, the fat lady has not sung. Any further delay, however, is a terrible mistake."

"I'll..think of something."

He nodded, satisfied.

No point calling the boarding house - Mrs. Wilson would be asleep by now. She'd probably resent it if I argued with Rob in the middle of the night and I didn't relish moving into the stadium while looking for a new home. After he left I stared at the door for a moment, then stood and opened the door. "Bill!"

My pitching coach/bench coach walked in looking nervous. This was rather normal for him though, so I got to the point. "You will take the club to Cincinnati by train tonight and probably manage tomorrow's game. I will follow sometime tomorrow."

"You can't stay here!" he protested. "The team needs you!"

"Yes...they need me to take care of some business. You'll be alright for one game. Martell's pitching, just let him do his thing and don't change the lineup unless you have to."

Once he, too, left I picked up the phone.

There should have been nowhere there at this hour. It was a random shot in the dark, more business I would have to take care of in the early morning, yet I was only half surprised when a man answered. "Yeah!?"

"Is this the Mayor's office?"

"Mayor's office is closed, bub," he retorted. "You know what time it is?"

"I'm looking for Chep Morrison."

"I told you...." Pause. "Who's asking."

"Ty Pennington. I'm the.."

"Cut the gab." I heard ruffling papers. "We've been expecting you, Pennington. Alright. Cathedral of St. Louis, Jackson Square, 7 AM. Come alone. No weapons. Understand?"

Why the hell would I bring weapons? Why were 'they' expecting me? And what the hell am I doing? "I understand."

[SrMeowMeow]

Bring weapons!

[RandyTiger]

Perhaps a baseball bat or two would help...

[CatKnight]

SrMeowMeow: I don't think Chep would appreciate that.

RandyTiger: Or that. ;)
********

July 15, 1954


It was close to three o'clock, with only static playing from the radio, by the time I drifted to sleep with thoughts troubled by... well, everything. I spent half the night staring out my open window. Occasional traffic marred the relative silence, while the scent of something cooking drifted in.

Fortunately, my boarding house tends to rise with the sun and it was the scent of breakfast along with voices below that roused me a little before six. I showered, dressed, and hammered on Gayle's door for awhile. No answer.

While passing through the common room Mrs. Wilson paused in mid conversation with another of her boarders, a World War II veteran turned businessman, and cast a disapproving frown in my direction. I steered towards her and took off my hat.

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm looking for Rob."

Her frown intensified and she led me apart from the veteran. "You need to leave that man alone," she said tartly. "He has enough to worry about without your hassling him. Is it not enough you cost him his...?"

"I did not get him fired," I retorted. "I would like to see him reinstated. First, though, he has a doctor's appointment today and I want to make sure he gets there."

"Oh yes," she sniffed. "He told me about those. All it does is make him sick. It stands to reason a cure should not make one feel worse."

"Mrs. Wilson, you're not a doctor." She stiffened and I continued. "Nor am I. All I know is what our team doctor told me, that he needs this or he will die. Do you want that?"

"Shh!" A few people were looking in our direction. She grimaced. "Well, he is not here at any rate. He left before you came down. Perhaps he went to your appointment after all."

"I hope so."
*******

St. Louis Cathedral was first founded in 1718. Over the years the church has been rebuilt and remodeled, most recently after a hurricane in 1915. As I crossed Jackson Square its three spires dominated the morning sky, dark grey with white towers. The front gate was open, of course, and I walked up the stone walkway into the cathedral itself.

After the morning heat, the darkened interior felt cool and welcoming. Overhead stained glass windows played a kaleidoscope of colors on the far walls, while candles dominated the altar. A handful of worshippers beat me here. Three in rapid succession took turns kneeling in front of a state of our Savior, while several more knelt in pews in private consultation with God.

I spotted Morrison in one of the rear pews apparently content to sit and watch the candles with clasped hands. As I approached, a wall of a man, the same wall from our first encounter, moved out of the shadows into my path. 6'4", minimum, 230 pounds... minimum. He nodded at me. "Lift your hands."

After submitting to a rough search he let me sit beside the Mayor of New Orleans, who hadn't looked over once during our altercation. Nor did he look at me now. "Ty," he said. "So good of you to come at this hour. What can I do for you?"

"You said I should contact you if I needed...help."

"Quietly, Ty. The roof echoes." He indicated the arch. "And yes, yes I did. I thought after Philadelphia you might call. Again, what can I do for you?"

I glanced over my shoulder at the wall, who saw fit to sit in the pew directly behind me. "There's...." What did I want him to do? Send the wall after Hasley? "I think I've wasted your time, Mr. Morrison. I'm..." I started to rise.

He clamped one hand on my knee with surprising force. "I'll decide if my time's wasted. I'll ask once more...."

"Gayle should be managing the team. Not me. There's nothing...well, he's sick, but he can still lead. The team's falling to pieces without him. There's rumors of a strike. Hasley's not even trying anymore. I don't..."

He looked at me in surprise. "Slowly. Start from the beginning. And quietly."

So God help me, I did. I suppose it felt good to let it all out, to let it be someone else's problem for a little while. I told him everything, from Gayle and Hasley to Daff and the proposed strike against me. He took it all in silently.

"I believe I know what you are asking for," Chep said finally. He glanced at the wall. "I will be fine for a minute. Tell Carl to bring the car around." The wall grunted disapproval, but left.

"I will do what I can while you are in Cincinnati," he said, "but you are the decisive piece here. When the time is right, you will have to act." He rose and moved past me to the door as his bodyguard returned.

"How will I know what to do? Or when?"

He glanced at me and smiled. Wall handed him a white fedora which he carefully adjusted before putting on. "You're a bright fellow, Tyler. I'm certain you'll figure it out."

[CatKnight]

July 1954

I returned home from my visit with Chep Morrison to find a message. Apparently someone told Ed Hasley I'd stayed behind in New Orleans. I didn't recognize the number, but it was one of the New Orleans exchanges, so Mrs. Wilson only offered token resistance when I asked for the phone.

"Hello?" asked a woman's voice on the fifth or sixth ring. A trembling, tired voice.

"Good morning," I said. "I'm looking for Edward Hasley."

"Ned?" She paused. "Of..of course, Just a minute." I heard a tinkling bell, quiet commands to someone I took to be a servant, then approaching footsteps.

"This is Hasley."

"It's Ty Pennington."

"Mr. Pennington." I heard him pick up the entire phone and walk with it. "What are you doing in New Orleans?"

"I'm taking care of some personal business," I said. "Bill's going to manage tonight and..."

"So he told me. He's rather upset. I must admit, so am I."

I sighed and decided to drop it as quickly as possible. "I'm catching the 10:15. I should be in Cincinnati before midnight."

"You are the field manager now, Mr. Pennington. Team business takes precedence over personal."

Oh, but it [b]was team business.[/i] "Yes, sir."

Hasley paused, perhaps expecting an apology, but I'd be damned if I gave him one.

"As long as I have you," he said, "you should know that there is continued interest in Chris Herskovitz. The Titans want to deal Thuber again."

The Titans were in eighth place and obviously looking to rebuild. CF Carlo Thuber was their # 1 batter, hitting .352 1-28 so far. SS Herskovitz (.257 1-6) was now in Birmingham and would probably be there until September. Herskovitz would probably be our starting shortstop in 1955 if not '54 ... but didn't teams in a pennant race sacrifice a little future to help them win now? Thuber was a definite improvement over Sawyer and Anderson in center field...

"I said no, of course, and to take that spic elsewhere."

Thuber was as American as I was, but that was hardly the point. "Thuber....Ed, maybe we should have talked about..." Mistake.

"Not necessary," Hasley snapped. "It was my decision and it's made. This is the team that's brought us here, Mr. Pennington, and it's the team I expect you to use going forward."
*******

New Orleans (50-41) (3rd, -5.5g) at Cincinnati (39-52) (7th, -16.5g)

15: A bit of a nailbiter, but pitching coach Bill McDonald holds on for his second career win as a manager. Martell pitches a complete game on 116 pitches and even picks up an RBI. Blues 3-2
WP-Martell (8-4)

16: I arrived in Cincy and decided, on a lark, to let Josh Sutton start. Sutton lasted just over five innings giving up 4 earned runs. Our offense tried, with Alan Hobby hitting his ninth homer of the year, but we couldn't close the gap further. Bulldogs 5-3
LP-Sutton (5-8), HR-Hobby (9)

17: Wasted opportunities. The two teams battled back and forth all day until the ninth when Torben Widdop gave up two doubles and the game. Hobby hit home run # 10 in the losing effort. Bulldogs 4-3
LP-Widdop (1-6), HR-Hobby (10)
*******

Ever feel like you're being sabotaged?

I returned to the hotel that night to find a telegram waiting for me.



MESSAGE BEGINS:

ROSTER CHANGE IMMEDIATE.

ANDERSON TO BIRMINGHAM. HAVE HIM THERE FOR GAME ON 18TH. MULKEY WILL MEET YOU HERE.

HASLEY


It's true I'd just put Royce Anderson on the bench for a few days in favor of Rich Mick, but Anderson (.299 1-24) was a valuable part of our outfield.

Plus, Dexter Mulkey is a catcher. Our fourth. We're not even using Henry Daff, and both Lee Bevilacqua and Seth D'Anorade are chaffing at having to split the catching duties. What the heck am I supposed to do with him?

[CatKnight]

July 1954

My first inkling that something was afoot came outside of Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Our train stopped to take on passengers and a big man wearing a rumpled brown coat and slacks sank down in the seat across from Bill and I. He fanned himself with his fedora for a few minutes, leaning back with closed eyes until the train surged into motion for the final push home.

It was just after noon on Sunday, July 18th. I'd long since read the Cincinnati paper and now sat, arms folded and head down, trying to make the ride pass a little faster. I wanted to get home and collapse in my own bed for a few hours. Getting some food first was optional.

"Mister Pennington, sir?" asked the newcomer. He'd risen from his seat and now stood in the aisle leaning against ours. "My name is Jennings, sir. Hattiesburg American. Can I ask you a few questions?"

It wasn't often I - or Rob before me - was ambushed on a train and I found it somewhat novel. I looked at Bill McDonald next to me, who shrugged, and turned back. "A few questions, Mr. Jennings."

He beamed. "Much obliged. I was wondering if you had any reaction to the proposed strike."

Strike? Had our players leaked their intentions? I inhaled. "What strike?"

"Didn't you know?" He returned to his seat and came back a moment later with yesterday's copy of the New Orleans Times-Picayune. He plucked out the Sports section and handed it to me.



Blues Fans: Give Us Back Our Manager!


NEW ORLEANS - Newly promoted Blues manager Ty Pennington may have more problems next week than hosting the St. Louis Redbirds and Cincinnati Bulldogs. He may be facing them in an empty stadium.

"Rob Gayle is the New Orleans Blues," wrote Andrew Dickens, 35, of Metairie. "You don't change managers in the middle of a pennant race!" added Tom Collins, 17, of Chalmette. A similar deluge of letters have hit our sister papers and radio stations throughout southern Louisiana.

WWL-AM 870 cut its post-game show last night short due to angry calls from fans demanding Mr. Gayle's reinstatement.

Gayle has missed significant time this year, his twelfth managing the Blues, due to various illnesses. He collapsed of heat exhaustion during a game on June 24 and was set to return to the team after the All Star Break. General Manager Edward Hasley formally replaced him on July 10 and replaced him with first year bench coach/manager Ty Pennington.

Before WWL cut their show short last night, two different callers talked about organizing a 'sit out'... (continued on page C5)


"Well, take a look at this," I said, passing the paper to Bill.

"Do you have any comment?" Jennings asked.

"Certainly. I disagreed with Mr. Hasley's belief that Rob Gayle was too ill to continue, and I hope he changes his mind. The players are also of like mind. I don't know about this strike, but I share the sentiment."
*******

The fact I didn't have any messages waiting for me told me Ed either didn't know about this nascent rebellion by 'his' fans or didn't care. On the way to my room I stopped at Gayle's door, raised my knuckles, sighed, then rapped.

"Who's there?" he snapped.

"It's Ty."

"You alone?"

I glanced around the dimly lit hall. "Yes."

"Good. F*** off!"

I sighed. "Have you read the papers? A lot of people want you back on the job, Rob."

"Well, I don't want it!"

"I don't believe you."

"F*** off!"

I sighed and thumped the door.

"Peacock, I'm going to rearrange your face if you don't leave me alone!"

"At least swear at me to my face and not through a door." Silence. "Rob!"

I heard him pull the bolt to his room. I turned the knob and pushed my way inside.

Gayle's room looked like hell. He was never a neat freak, but now dishes and silverware had taken over his table, while newspapers and books dominated the chairs and floor. He himself hadn't shaved in at least a week, and his bathing suffered similarly. He wore a soiled sleeveless t-shirt and boxer shorts.

"What the hell do you want, Peacock?"

"First, to find out how you're doing. Not well, I see." He glowered at me. "Second, because I wanted to make sure you knew people were trying to get you back in the dugout."

"No point, Peacock." He began rummaging through a cardboard box on his dresser. "Where did it go....where....Ah!" He pulled out a beer bottle.

"Of course there's a point." I watched him pry the top off and let it fall to the floor, then drink his beer warm. "Look..the players miss you. I miss you. Apparently the fans miss you."

"Peacock...." he sighed. "No. Tell them I said 'No.'"

"Why?"

"Ed's right. I'm sick." He clasped his bottle in both hands, sat in a chair regardless of the papers already on it, and stared at it.

"So? I talked to the Doc. He said that if you went to your treatments then..."

He shook his head. "No more treatments either."

"What? I thought that's where you went Thursday!"

"You thought wrong!" he snapped, looking up at me. "All Doc ever did was make me sicker. I felt better when I stopped going. You know that as well as I do. Tell him he's a quack. A damned French quack."

"If you don't let him treat you, you're going to die!" I shouted.

"Then I die! Nothin' on this side worth living for anyway!"

I stood and glared at him. "I can't believe you're letting Hasley beat you like this. Get up!"

He returned my glare.

"Get up!"

"Make me, boy," he hissed.

I wasn't going to fight him, especially since I might well lose. I shook my head and plowed my way through the debris to the door. "I don't believe this," I muttered.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out!" he called.

"I get into a fistfight with Hasley for you," I shouted. "You have players threatening their careers by threatening to walk out for you! Hell, you apparently have fans ready to walk as well!"

"More fool them!"

"Yes!" I agreed, wrenching the door open. "And for what? For a dirty old drunk who's ready to crawl into a corner and die!"

His face twisted and he leapt to his feet.

"I never took you for a coward, Rob."

He threw the bottle at my head. I caught it on the door where it shattered and stepped outside, slamming the door behind me.

"Mr. Pennington!" gasped a pale, shocked, outraged Mrs. Wilson. She stood perhaps ten feet away, her hand half way to her mouth.

"Don't worry, ma'am. I'm packing now." I moved past her, opened my door and slammed it behind me.

[OldYankFan]

You write a compelling story sir.

[Chris68]

Outstanding work!! Keep it up!

[RobToxin]

Plot twists and character development. This is the kind of stuff that a non-baseball fan could read and find interesting. Always wondering what is going to happen next.

[MadThespian]

bump

[Alloutwar]

Great stuff Catknight. eye kneed moar.

http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b131/chooch1268/Kyle_Moar.jpg