February 25th, 2005. Brian's home.
Brian was busy in his room playing Kingdom Hearts. That goddamn Sephiroth had killed him one times too many, and by Jove, one of these times he was going to get him! He checked the clock. Dammit. It was 4:45 and he had to go to work soon. His cell phone rang. It was his friend, Donald.
"Yeah, what do want? Make it quick, I have to work soon."
"Brian... You know how we enrolled you in the MLB amateur draft as a joke?"
Brian rolled his eyes at the mention. "Yeah, what of it? That was the worst joke ever, by the way."
"Yeah... well... Uh..."
"Spit it out, I have to get moving."
"You were drafted."
"What?"
"Exactly what I said."
"By who?"
"The Royals."
"That black hole of a baseball team?"
"One and the same. They expect you to be at the Mavericks' training camp in a couple of weeks. Say March 15th."
"I gotta go."
Brian hung up the phone, unbelieving at what he just heard. He was definitely a baseball freak and could name just about every single statistic and its significance (or lack of), but that didn't translate to success on the diamond. He couldn't even throw that fast. He did practice breaking balls, like the knuckler. But that didn't matter... Did it?
Brian checked his calendar. He had to be at UTI California around the same time. A godsend. He could probably split time, and after he proves himself to be a bust, he can go back to his regularly scheduled programming.
---------------------------------------------
March 15, 2005. Mavericks training camp.
Brian came in with his stuff all pumped up. He came here for bubble gum, and he's all out of ass. Er, wait, was that how it went? Anyway, that's not important. He went up to the manager after signing in, and realised then and there that he still had no clue what he had been signed as.
So he waddles up in his bubbly way and checks. Crap. He was signed as a starting pitcher. No good. He can't throw that hard, maybe 78 mph at the most. Hardly major league stuff. Maybe coming up here was a bad idea. He went out onto the field. Good god, this wasn't going to fun. All around him were these 6', finely toned studs, and here he was a 5'7" lardball. His chances of actually making the team are even worse than he thought.
The pitching coach booms over the stadium loudspeakers: All pitchers report to the bullpen for pitch clocking. God is conspiring against me, he thought. He did a sign of the cross and made sure to get on at the end of the line.
90. 93. 89. 95. Big manly men came up and hurled the ball so hard they nearly knocked the poor sap on the recieving end on his ass. Finally, it was Hughes's turn to pitch. He reared up and hurled a mighty strike. GRRRR! I ARE HE-MAN! ARRRRGH!
78 miles per hour. No, I didn't go for the 9 and type 7 by accident. The radar gun's 10s digit wasn't broken. 78 miles per hour. PATHETIC.
The pitching coach took one look at the gun and started laughing his ass off. For 5 minutes, there was nothing but loud guffaws emanating from the bullpen, drawing other players to see what the ol' hullabaloo was about, and they too burst into laughter. Brian was humiliated and cried into his teddy bear that night. Meanwhile, management was baffled when their uniform pants-cleaning budget was double what they expected.
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March 16. 2005. Mavericks training camp.
It was only one day since the big humiliation at Mavericks Stadium. Brian was dazed and confused, using the bottle for comfort. It didn't help matters that his girlfriend was 3000 miles away in New Jersey. He came into Mavericks camp the next day with a slight hangover and a "---- the world" attitude. Today they were going to work on locating pitches. pfff. He can do this.
Brian stumbled onto the pitcher's mound, belched, and the taste of rum with Coke came back up. blagh. The pitching coach giggled at the sight of "small ball Hughes", as Brian was now known as, coming up to the mound. "Ok, first I want to see your curveball, see if you can throw SOMETHING right."
Curveball? Bahaha! That's child's play. Brian shook the drunkeness out of his eyes and tossed the ball with a snap of the wrist.
The ball sailed 5 feet over his head, and the catcher jumped up to catch it. But, a miracle occured. The ball dropped straight down on its way to the plate and the catcher snagged it mere inches above the ground. Startled, he looked at the pitching coach as if to confirm what he had just seen.
The coach, in a state of bewilderment, asked the radar gun boy, "What did that clock?"
"56 miles an hour, sir," replied the lad.
Coach stroked his goatee in thought. "This guy could be the anti-Randy Johnson."
He called Brian over. "What's your name, son?"
"Ish Brayhan, shuh. urp," drawled Brian in a drunken stupor.
Coach glanced at the gun boy with an "oh boy" expression on his face.
"Well, mine's Steve, Brian. Steeeeve. Did you get that?"
"Loud and hic clear, shuh."
"Now toss me some other pitches."
Brian hobbled back over to the mound. "I like thish pish, pershonallleeeee. mah friendss callededed it screwy."
Steve leaned over to one of his assistants and whispered, "This boy can't really hold his liquor, can he?"
Brian punched his glove a couple of times to get pumped up. The wind up, and the pitch.
The catcher set up on the outside corner of the plate as the ball sailed towards that side, but suddenly decided it didn't like that direction and flew back over to actually come over on the inside corner. A screwball to write home about, thrown by a right-hander no less.
Steve nodded approvingly and asked the gun boy, "Velocity?"
"68 miles an hour."
"Nice and slow, I see. So, you got anything else for us? Or are you a two-trick pony?"
"Ohhhh, don't worry, Coash. I got plenty of tricksh for a pony. pretty little pony, heheheh..."
"Well, show them."
"Aw 'ight guvnah. thish is a knuckleball, thrown RIGHT, not like that fraud wakefield."
"Wakefield a knuckleball fraud? This guy likes talking stuff. Hm. But if he can back it up..."
Brian lobbed a knuckler to the catcher. Have you ever seen a catcher dance? Well, this poor sap came pretty close. Inside! No, outside! It's coming! No, wait, it darted back! High! No! Low! Finally it sailed right by the catcher, who still didn't know what the hell was going on.
Steve's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What the blue hell was that?"
Brian shrugged. "A knuckleball?"
"A knuckleball? That was a ----ing greased pig ball! Good god! What's the reading on that?"
"56 miles an hour, coach," faithfully replied the gun boy.
Steve sank back into the bench, still unbelieving at what he had just seen. If he was not hallucinating, the Royals probably had one of the best off-speed prospects in the history of the game sitting here right in their laps like a choir boy at a priest convention.
Brian tripped off the mound and mumbled, "i also got a slider, but it ain't nothin' special. now, if you'll excuse me, i gotta take a poop."
Steve brought his hand to his forehead, wondering how in God's green earth he was going to explain this to the higher-ups. /i
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March 19, 2005. Mavericks skipper's office.
"Are you absolutely sure about this? You weren't sloshed again, were you? Like when you called Manny Ramirez 'just another big guy who won't do anything'?" demanded the skipper incredulously.
"No, Dan. This is the real deal. We have eyewitnesses. This guy throws some of the best slow stuff I've ever seen in my 30 years of observing prospects. I-i-i-it's just amazing," stammered Steve.
"I don't believe it. I'll have to see his garbage for myself."
The next day, Dan walked out to the dugout while Brian was warming up and plopped his wrinkly ass on the bench. He had a nice burrito for lunch. Mmmmm. Burrito. Steve sauntered up to Brian and pointed out Dan sitting on the bench. The pressure was on. On, I tell you.
"Don't show your best stuff just yet. It'll make more of an impact if you almost prove him right before you put him back in his place. He's only an A manager, after all."
"Har, don't worry about me. I'm just fine," beamed Brian.
Brian tossed a nice slider to the catcher. It had decent 9-3 movement, but was only 77 mph. Not exactly fireball material.
"Pfff. My grandmother could toss a slider like that, and she's DEAD!"
Ooooh. Brian wasn't about to let Dan get away with that. He wound up and tossed his curveball. It more resembled a softball slo-pitch with its 6 feet of breaking. In speed, too.
"Hm, not too bad. Could knock a lot of guys off balance..."
Brian simply smirked and manipulated the ball in his mitt to screwball grip. He took a step foward and tossed the ball with his straight-arm overhand motion, reminiscent of Mike Mussina's delivery. The ball darted from the right to the left side of the plate as if it were possessed.
"Wow. Ok, maybe I was wrong."
"You ain't seen nothing yet, Dan," Steve mumbled. Brian looked to Steve, who threw up the knuckleball sign. He smirked, and Brian smirked and nodded in return. He curled his fingers on the ball, making sure not to touch any seams. Windup, toss.
The ball darted up twice, then dipped twice, and wiggled side to side two times. All it was missing was the B, A, Select.
Dan stared in amazement and a wet fart rumbled up from the bench.
"My god! Arghlamaksdgajksdakdbtajkhbyawjkbhyawehjayuku..."
"I think you've stunned him speechless," Captain Steve of the Obviousness commented. "You've done me proud."
"OH MAH GAWD! I don't know what to make of this. Maybe you're not destined for simple A ball. I see better things in your future..."
"Like a major league career?" inquired Brian hopefully.
An unknown voice spoke up from behind him. "Maybe not, but you'll be able to get mad ass if you show that trick off at parties."
Brian whipped around. A 7'0" near-stick figure towered over him, a stark contrast to his 5'7", 180 lb frame.
He offered a handshake. "My name's Denton Ruth. Pleased to meet you."
Dan walked up and put his hand on Brian's shoulder, gesturing towards Denton. "This is another prospect we have high hopes for. Denton here could probably get an inside-the-park home run off a drag bunt, that's just how damn fast this guy is."
Brian gazed up at the towering man. "My name's Brian, Denton. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll get to play in the majors."
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OPENING DAY
Bill: Hello, it is I, Bill Zoss and Kory Bowman, hosts of your local sports show, "Idiots in California!"
Kory: Good day to all, folks. Today, we've got you a dandy for you to see. Today, the High Desert Mavericks debuted two of the top prospects in the baseball world, who probably aren't going to stick around for long: off-speed deity Brian Hughes, and basepath scorcher Denton Ruth.
Bill: That they did, Kory. Unfortunately, our cameraman called in sick five minutes before the game started, so we don't have any video. But we do have stats. Apparently Denton went 4-4 with 4 extra base hits as Brian struck out 12 without giving up a run.
Kory: How... Exciting.
Bill: Shut up. We make do with what we have.
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April 10, 2005: Brian's apartment.
It's been a rough day. An engine blew up on him during class. He thought he tightened the fuel filter enough, but apparently not, and his engine went up in a cloud of smoke. Bad stuff. Very.
So he was sitting in his room playing some SSX3 to calm his nerves when his phone rang. It was Denton.
"What the hell do you want?" demanded Brian.
"Calm down, or I'll kick your ass tommorrow."
"Tommorrow?"
"Yeah, you're pitching."
"I am?"
"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't you be?"
"Well, I didn't think that I was still needed."
"Dude, you're the best pitcher in the minors right now if you listen to the press. No way they're gonna drop you."
Brian hung up. How did he get into this? He just wanted to go to UTI, get a good education, and go back to Jersey to live happily ever after with his girlfriend. But fate seemed to have other things in store. He could feel them. Or maybe he just had to fart. Either or. Brian lifted up his leg and let 'er rip. I guess it was just a fart. Moving on, now.
He never anticipated actually being drafted. Maybe somebody just misclicked. Regardless, it seemed that he was destined for the majors.
The next day, he suited up and got ready for action. The crowd of 2,000 was screaming. Oh, the adrenaline rush. He heard a girl calling out his name and screaming "I LOVE YOU BRIAN! I WANT YOUR BABIES!"
He turned in the direction of the voice and saw a extremely fat girl with acne and pigtails screaming at him. He shuddered and struggled to cleanse his mind of such thoughts, replacing them with ones of his girlfriend back home. Her beautiful eyes, her kissable lips, and, of course, her fondness for wearing low cut shirts.
Brian almost started drooling on the mound and suddenly noticed that he was becoming happy in the trouser area. Not good! Hiding his "problem" by subtly placing his glove over it, he got ready to pitch...
------------------------------------------------
Modesto Nuts High Desert Mavericks
Bill: Welcome once again to our "Idiots in California" sports segment. I'm Bill Zoss, and Kory Donan is my partner here in the studio.
Kory: Uh, it's "Bowman", not Donan.
Bill: Whatever.
Kory: Jackass.
Bill: Anyway, onto the High Desert Mavericks game. This game is notable for two numbers: 10 and 0. 10 is the number of K's that Hughes got, 0 is the amount of leeway the ump gave.
Kory: Yeah, his strike zone was mighty narrow.
Bill: Here's a highlight. First batter of the game, Brian tosses a little fastball that is clearly over the plate, maybe just pokes out an inch or two - and the ump calls ball, and the batter walks.
Kory: If you're a pitcher, you hate to see such an obvious strike get called a ball, and you hate it even more when it becomes a BB.
Bill: Very boring game so far.
Kory: One of those Modesto Nuts fools actually gets a homer off of Brian in the top of the 4th. Brian tosses a knuckler that doesn't knuckle very much and the hitter ropes it over the Collossus Burger sign for the big fly.
Bill: Next highlight is the bottom of the 6th, and only in Mavericks Stadium will you see such a scene: Denton Ruth ropes one towards the cornfield, and he only comes half a foot away from getting a home run.
Kory: Given that he doesn't exactly hit for power, it's pretty good.
Bill: Please, Kory, you also have to remember that right porch is only 290 feet away from home.
Kory: Still.
Bill: Anyway, Denton gets a double off of that, and kick starts a 3 run inning that seals the deal for the Mavericks, as Brian holds the Nuts to only 1 run to maintain an unreal 0.56 ERA.
Kory: And guess who we have as an interviewee tonight?
Bill: Pamela Anderson?
Kory: You wish.
Bill: One of these days she'll be on this show.
Kory: Quiet. Our guest tonight is Dan, the skipper for the Mavericks. Dan?
Dan: Good evenin', fellas!
Bill: When did you become a southerner?
Dan: I'm just floating on air from today's game. Brian is absolutely amazing. If he doesn't get called up to AA or even AAA in the next couple of weeks, I'd be surprised.
Kory: Well, Hughes is one of our subjects. But right now, let's talk about Denton. The guy hits for average and can steal bags, but doesn't have too much power. Are you concerned?
Dan: Not really. It doesn't matter whether or not you blast a ball over the fence or single, steal, and score on a base hit, as long as you score. Denton's hitting pretty good this season, and his theft skills help this team out.
Bill: The little clock up there is counting up now, that's not good, so we have time for one more question. Predict how much K's Brian will get his next start.
Dan: 15.
Bill: Really?
Kory: What a kook. Anyway, we're plumb out of time, so later all, idiots!
Bill: Do we really call our viewers that?
Kory: Quiet, you son of a -
Bill: Camera's still rolling.
Kory: Oh.
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April 12th, 2005: Brian's apartment.
It was a pretty good start, despite the fact that he was packing a shotgun in his shorts for the first inning. 10 Ks wasn't that bad, especially with the ump's impossibly narrow zone. He was real steamed at that guy. But one thing intrigued Brian: he saw the ump wearing a Yankees hat before the game, and whenever he called a strikeout, he did so reluctantly. Could that one idiot be trying to sabotage his career? Nah... Couldn't be.
As he was watching an F1 race in his living room with his arm in ice after his last start, the phone rang. Brian answered it with a singsongy "hello", indicating his happy mood. The voice on the other end was not so happy.
"The boss doesn't appreciate you doing so well. Be wary. If you continue to do so well, you might find yourself in trouble."
Shaken, Brian slammed the phone down, waited a few seconds, and then picked it up again to call Denton.
"What the hell do you want?" asked Denton in mock irritation.
"I just got a rather odd phone call. Some guy was telling me that 'the boss' wasn't happy about my performance and that I'd better tone it down if I know what's good for me."
"It's probably just an idiot trying to spook you. Don't pay it too much mind."
"Yeah, you're probably right."
"By the way, Dan told me that some of the higher-ups in the Royals organisation are going to be checking out your next start. If we both do well, we might be headed for Wichita."
"No, that's no good at all..."
"Why?"
"Well, I go to school here. If we go up to Wichita, I wouldn't be able to balance my school and baseball. It's just no good..."
"You're going to have to make a decision."
"..."
"..."
"Could you be any more obvious?"
"Well, what the hell am I supposed to say? I can't be making your decisions for you."
"Yeah, that's true. I'm just a bit overwhelmed is all."
"Well, don't you have a girlfriend? Call her, maybe she can help."
"Good idea. I'll see you at practice tommorrow."
Brian hung up the phone, and stared at the TV, not really seeing anything. Suddenly, his TV exploded and sparks showered everywhere. Brian dove under his couch and put his hands over his head.
After a couple of minutes, he crawled back out. What the hell caused his TV to explode? He glanced out his window and could have sworn he saw a man duck from the roof next to his. He must be seeing things...
April 17th: Mavericks Stadium.
Brian toed the rubber and threw a couple of warmup tosses as the capacity crowd of 10,570 went ballistic for him. The potential between the two overnight superstars, Brian and Denton, was immense. Records could fall in their careers. But right here, right now, was the chance to move up. If they blew this, their careers could be nipped in the bud.
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Elisnore Storm High Desert Mavericks
Kory: Ok, folks, we're back at "Idiots in California". It's time for the Mavericks portion of the program.
Bill: Get a load of this. 9.0 innings pitched, only 5 hits and 2 runs given up with 13 strikeouts. Sound like a sure win to you?
Kory: Yep.
Bill: You're wrong. Brian suffers the first loss of his career at no fault of his own. He pitched a fine gem of a game, but gave up a run batted in the first and a home run in the 3rd to seal the deal 2-0.
Kory: And we have to issue an apology to Dan, the skipper of the Mavericks. He predicted 15 strikeouts for Brian in this start and we called him a kook, but Brian rebounded and almost proved the skipper right with 13.
Bill: Anyway, highlights. In the top of the 3rd here comes little Garces up to bat. He hits a little poopoo that in any other park would be a routine fly-out. But this isn't any other park, this is Mavericks stadium. It floats into the cornfields, a pathetic 291 foot home run.
Kory: That stings.
Bill: And really, that's the only highlight. Very uneventful game. Denton's bat stayed asleep for most of the game, although he still maintains a good .310 average.
Kory: Royals big wigs were present at today's game to observe Brian and Denton. It's possible that their presence unnerved the rest of the team and caused them to become so lackadaisical.
Bill: We have one of them present right here for a little interviewy-poo. How's it hanging, Mike?
Mike: Did you just say "interviewy-poo?"
Bill: I'm the one asking the questions around here. First off, the obvious. What do you think of Brian's performance so far?
Mike: He did exceptional today. The loss was that of the team, not him.
Kory: And...?
Mike: What?
Bill: Aren't you going to announce something? Possibly... The chance of a career advancement of a certain player?
Mike: If I was going to announce that, it wouldn't be on some backwater show like this. I'm leaving.
Kory: Fine. We didn't want you here anyway! sniffle I'm Kory Bowman... sob
Bill: And I'm Bill Zoss. See ya later, everybody! Hey, Kory, do you need a hankerchief or something?
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April 23rd, 2005: Brian's Apartment.
It was a curse and a blessing. Brian didn't get the call-up to Wichita, which caused an uproar in the baseball world. There were riots everywhere. Cities burned! People died! Women and children were raped! Well, not really. But nobody was happy about the non-call, except for Brian. It gave him a couple more days to think about what to do in case he was.
Denton, however, was fuming. FUMING. He couldn't stand to play with the anemic Mavericks anymore and hoped to move up to people who could actually play baseball. This anger caused his performance to slip a little bit, and his batting average was down to .294.
Now another chance to prove themselves. Brian's next start was now. An hour before game time, Brian went into his living room to pick up his bag of stuff and heard something whiz past his ear. He frantically looked around and noticed a bullethole in the wall behind. He hit the deck and crawled into his bathroom, which had no windows. Somebody was hunting him down. He called the police, who gave him an escort to the stadium.
Now, standing in the dugout before the game, he brought his concerns to Denton.
"Somebody really hates me, man. First my TV explodes and I spot a guy on the roof of the building next to my apartment, and then today somebody shot at me. Maybe I should give up baseball."
Denton blinked in disbelief. "Somebody SHOT at you?"
"Yeah. I heard something whiz past me and then I spotted a bullethole on the wall behind me. It's really bad stuff."
"Hot damn. Maybe you should stay at my place. It's not good to live with somebody sniping at your house."
"Well, I'd hope not. But I might take you up on your offer."
Steve walked up. "Hey, what the hell're you doing chatting up people, Brian? You're supposed to be warming up."
Brian only managed a half-hearted "oh" and walked up to the mound. He noticed the pro scouts in the seats, and glanced at the 290 ft. right field wall, which had been the bane of his existance ever since he gave up that HR in his last start. He shook his head and prepared to strike fools out, even though his mind was heavy with other thoughts.
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Lancaster JetHawks High Desert Mavericks
Bill: Hello, fellow idiots. You've tuned in once again to our "Idiots in California" sports show. I'm sure you know who I and my partner are, so we'll spare you the introduction.
Kory: Today, everything clicked for the Mavericks. Brian pitched a three-hit one-run win with 16 strikeouts, and helped the Mavericks win 6-1.
Bill: It was a fine day indeed. Denton raised his average from a paltry for him .294 to a nice .323 by going 3-4.
Kory: He also stole third base for his 9th steal of the season and scored shortly thereafter.
Bill: Now, we know what you people want: HIGHLIGHTS.
Kory: Top of the first, Brian has some control issues and loads the bases with 2 walks and a hit. The JetHawks cleanup hitter comes and bloops it to the left fielder, which scores the go-ahead run. BUT! The left fielder rockets it to 2nd base and gets the out. Brian then strikes out the next two batters to end the inning, men left on the corners.
Kory: Bottom of the first inning, Denton Ruth up to bat, and lasers one into right field. He reaches 2nd and thinks about third, but the right fielder gets to the ball too quickly.
Bill: If he played at Turner Field, he'd have several inside-the-park home runs.
Kory: But he doesn't.
Bill: Next, bottom of the second inning, Jennings up to bat and hits a really high floater to left field. It floats, it floats, it floats, and lands just behind the Collosus Burgers sign for a solo blast, giving the Mavericks the lead they wouldn't relinquish.
Kory: Now, in the bottom of the 7th, the Mavericks lead 3-1 and have a big 3 run inning to seal the deal, although Denton gets the short end of the stick by being left on third while the final out is recorded.
Bill: All in all, the Mavericks finished with 12 hits and 6 runs, runs that Brian would have liked in his last start.
Kory: Now we're going to move on to the possibility of an NFL team coming to Los -
screen goes black
staticstatic fades away, a shadow of a head can be seen against the black
: This is a message to YOU, Brian Hughes. I warned you that the boss doesn't like what you're doing. I warned you to tone it down. But you didn't listen to me, Brian. That was a bad mistake to make. Now the boss will make your life a living hell. Have fun.
static
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April 24th, 2005: Mavericks skipper's office.
The baseball world was atwitter with the "Idiots in California" incident. Conspiracy theories abounded about who was the "boss" that the man referred to. The guesses were wide and varied, from George Steinbrenner to a 36 year old autistic man. It was craziness. The clip was shown on almost every news network in the country. But right now none of that mattered. Brian and Denton were sitting in Dan's office awaiting word on whether or not they'd be called up. Dan was on the phone with the Royals GM.
"Yes, alright. I'll be sure to tell them."
Dan hung up the phone, leaned backwards and stared at the ceiling. He sighed and turned to Denton and Brian with a blank expression on his face.
Brian locked up. If he did get called up, he wouldn't know what to do. Denton also locked up. This was the chance he'd been waiting for... If he didn't get it...
"Boys, I'm sorry to tell you..."
Denton jumped up and tossed his chair across the room.
"Hey, calm down, man." Dan suddenly broke into a big smile: "You did it!"
Denton started jumping around the office screaming for joy, while Brian just stared into space, wondering what to do.
Dan was puzzled. "Aren't you glad that you got the call?"
Brian didn't hear him.
That night: Brian's apartment.
Despite Denton's warnings, Brian went to his own apartment that night, deep in thought. He turned on the TV.
Bill: I'm Bill Zoss and this is my collegue Kory Bowman. First, in tonight's news, Brian and Denton get the call! They're headed to Wichita with all due speed...
Suddenly, Brian heard a knock at his door. It was nearly midnight, who would come a-knockin'?
Brian opened the door. His eyes went wide at who he saw.
"Stacy? What the hell are you doing here?"
It was unbelievable. Stacy, Brian's girlfriend, was standing here right in front of him, at midnight 3000 miles from her house back in Brian's hometown in NJ.
She looked at him with her wide green eyes and smiled. "You're all over the news back home. I figured you might need some moral support."
"You're more right than you might think."
"Talk to me, I might be able to help you."
Several hours, Brian had explained all that was bothering him.
"And tommorrow I make the start in Wichita. Denton's already gone to Wichita and played a doubleheader today. I don't know what to do."
"Your parents want you to continue with baseball."
Brian fell backwards in his chair. "Why's that?"
"They figure it would be better for you if you played baseball and made your mark in history instead of just being a nobody collision repairman your entire life. Besides, your dad used to play for the Binghamton Mets, did he ever tell you that?"
"No, he didn't..."
"He played catcher for them, and people thought he was destined for a major league career when he was shot in the knee by somebody claiming that they were working for 'the boss' and that your dad stepped over the line by doing so well."
"You're kidding."
"No, why?"
"The same thing is happening to me. Some person is telling me that 'the boss' isn't happy with the amount of progress I've made and has issued a threat to me."
"hm... It seems too weird to just be a coincidence."
"I don't know. But, now only one thing remains in question," Brian rose from his chair.
"What's that?"
"How long would it take to drive to Wichita?"