There's nothing like sitting in an empty baseball stadium, at night, after a game has been played. The very distinct clink of a bat hitting the ball still sounds in the quiet stadium. The cheers of the fans as the play is called a Home Run still echoes off the seats. The announcer still loud with praise as the game is won.
Never did Andy Flynn think that at the age of 17, when he wanted to join the big leagues, a car accident would change his fate. Or at the age of 22, the woman he had just married a short time before, comes home and announces she's pregnant with their first child. With two kids, a divorce on the way, at the age of 30, he picked up a bat again. Too old for the major leagues, too young to teach, there was nothing for him in the world of baseball.
Until he met her.
He had never met a woman who was more stubborn, more difficult than she was. It didn't help that she knew more about Baseball than he did. She could rattle of stats of players like they were the alphabet. She knew the rule book backwards and forwards. She knew everyone who worked at the stadium and their families. She walked around the place like she owned it. Which was fair, since she owned the team.
With a deadline fast approaching, the team was going to be up for sale, or she had to buy it back with an additional 2 million tact on. Renovations to the park, salary bumps; the place wasn't as fan friendly as it could be. She had a good staff, good ball players, and whatever possessed her to take an interest in him, he didn't know.
"The game ended a while ago," a voice said, breaking the memory of the day.
Flynn didn't need to turn to look to see who it was. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. Which was surprising to him since he only knew her for a handful of hours.
She had been with a bunch of suits, rattling off facts about the team, that Andy overheard when he came into the park. He corrected her, told her she was wrong, and she invited him to stay – to come with her to her box. It didn't help that he had a meeting with her, through an ex-drinking buddy of his – who turned out to be her ex-husband.
Through the meeting, Andy found out quite a few things, like how she came into possession of a multi-million-dollar park. Her husband won it from a drunk game of Poker and when they divorced, with no qualms, he gave it to her. She became sole owner, with the pre-existing team and staff and had to work with what she got.
The news about Sharon Raydor and the sale of her team had been quiet in the papers. The media were nice to her despite the fact that he was sure they knew more about it than she did. She had to shape up her team, or else she had to sell them.
It didn't help that their new hitter, Buzz Watson, was a wild hitter. He needed training. Better training. It didn't matter that he was the star hitter in high school, or played Varsity in College. This was the big leagues.
Sharon also had trouble when it came to her second basement who was a walking Human Resources case. Fined multiple times and thrown out of the games more than a handful, Julio Sanchez needed something to calm him down. He needed to be worn out.
"Rumor has it that Provenza needs some help," Flynn said as Sharon sat down next to him.
"It's not that he needs help," she said. "I would just like a full staff before going into the new season."
"So what," Flynn said. "I get a coaching spot and Provenza gets to sit up in the box?"
"I was thinking field manager," she said. "Provenza will be up in the box, calling the roster shots and you'll play the field."
He knew the players from TV. That was about it. He didn't know their personality, he didn't know what plays were the betters ones when it came to these guys.
Flynn rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath.
"What're you thinking about figures?"
"How about seven?" She asked. "Starting out with six during pre-season with a bump on the first game."
"You can afford that?"
She gave him a small smile and shrugged her shoulder. "I guess you'll have to take the deal to find out."
"I've got kids."
"So do I."
It was a challenge. He knew that. She couldn't afford to lose the sale. She had to keep it in order to provide for her kids. He couldn't afford to take the deal and watch it go south.
"Six with a seven bump?"
She nodded.
"Okay," he nodded.
The deal was made. Six figures.
"We leave tomorrow," she said. "The busses will pick us up here, at 6:30 am."
With that she left him and climbed back up the stairs, leaving him to the quiet of the park.
There's nothing like sitting in an empty baseball stadium, at night, after a game has been played. The very distinct clink of a bat hitting the ball still sounds in the quiet stadium. The cheers of the fans as the play is called a Home Run still echoes off the seats. The announcer still loud with praise as the game is won.
He wanted a piece of that. He wanted to know that the people were cheering for his team. Clapping for his hitters.
Then it hit him.
Seventeen and in a car accident. Twenty-two with a wife and a kid. Thirty years old, too old for the game. That was then.
This is now.
Now he's the manager of a Major League Baseball team.
Happy Birthday Kadi219.
