On a cold, rainy afternoon, Bill Bavasi stumbles through the streets of Seattle. As he lurches past the Pyramid Alehouse like both of his ankles are broken, he unsheathes a flask from his Armani blazer. He floats through the crowds, their heads turning as his head bobbles. A lady yelps as he trips on the sidewalk, grabbing her jacket as he hits the ground. She pulls her jacket away in fear, and quickly tip-toes away from the vagrant.
He looks up towards South Atlantic Street, grabs his flask, and walks towards Safeco Field. He makes his way towards the player’s entrance, finds a nook, and enjoys his poison. He looks up towards the skies and mumbles to himself. “I know I’m near the end,” he says, slurping on the Stranahan’s. “I need to impress Seattle. They need to love me!”
He slams his flask against the concrete curb. He frowns in regret, and crawls towards it. His lips touch the liquid courage once again.
“This time. This time it won’t be a mistake.”
February 8th, 2008
Bill: How did I get to this point? Why do the people of Seattle hate me so much? I did everything you’re supposed to do as a general manager! I thought they liked Raul Ibanez? I signed him. I brought him back.”
Bill: *Smacks forehead*
Bill: I should’ve taken my adviser’s advice! I could’ve had Justin or Jered. I couldn’t HAD have THEM had Jere or Dustin!
Bill: Why did Jose Lopez turn into such a slob? He could’ve been great…it’s all that catering, It’s that Jeremy Bryant fellow. Why does he have to cook so well! Gah! I had the money, Huizenga was wrong, he was so wrong.
Bill: *Wipes tears*
Bill: Matt Tuiasosopo will be the savoir of this ballclub. He has to be! I got so much flak, so much flak! I know it, I just know it. I no I no I no. And Hargrove?!? What a deserter! Never again will I trust…
Bill: And that Buddhism mumbo-jumbo…that didn’t work out for me! Ethics? Precepts!
Bill: *Stands up*
Bill: I still have time to make a name for myself. I still have time!
Bill: *Grabs cell phone*
Bill: Yeah…yeah…that’s right. I know we just drafted him but I don’t care! Yes…That’s right. We need an ace.
Bill: We need Erik Bedard.
Bavasi hangs up his cell phone and leans against the wall of Safeco. He pulls a cigarette out of his blazer and lights it.
“Save me, Erik…”
Bavasi is seen packing up his desk. He grabs his nameplate. It reads “Bill Bavasi: General Manager”. He looks over to a plaque hanging on the wall. He walks slowly over to it and grabs it off the wall. “Father,” he says. “I’ve let you down. All you did was lead a legacy in California. And all I have is failure.”
He looks out of the windows towards the skyline of Seattle. He sighs and his walks out of the room with that plaque in hand. Walking down the stairs, no one exchanges glances. He is ignored, and he ignores back. He makes it to his car in one piece. Boxes bulge out of the windows.
He looks up towards Safeco Field. “We had a blast, my-lady. I wish I could’ve left on a better note. I tried. I really tried. Maybe I’ll get another shot one day.”
Shuffling around his coat, he pulls his cell phone out and dials a number. It rings once. It rings twice. Finally someone else on the other line picks up. Bill smiles, “Dusty? Hey. It’s been awhile. Do you think we could go somewhere to talk?”
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