Bakersfield Announces New Corporate Partner

[Ghosts]

“Now you listen here, boys! You Kentucky bastards had every opportunity to renew your bid and the best I got was a cold DoorDash delivery of six pounds of taco-like mush! I’m old and I’m tired of shoveling food that should only be consumed after 2 AM into the mouths of young Bears fans. You can keep your matching offer. The Bakersfield Bears are done with the Yum! corporation.” With that, David Novak calmly replaced the elegant if archaic landline receiver into its cradle and called in director of marketing, Connie Yu. Moments later, a crisply dressed woman in what David presumed were her late thirties stepped into his office. The glass walls offered an unimpeded view of Bakersfield’s stadium, but the rest of the decor in his office matched the persona of Mr. Novak – it hadn’t been updated since 1988.

“It’s not like it used to be is it, Ms. Yu?” David offered, staring out over his dominion.

“How do you mean, sir?” Connie replied, patiently. She was normally not the type to suffer small talk, but in the case of her billionaire boss, she saw to making a few exceptions.

“It used to be all fun, and booze, and thoughtless consumption. Nowadays you’re more likely to see a kid reading about deforestation while sipping a chai tea then spilling a Pepsi while chasing after a foul ball. Ah well, it’s probably for the best. We’ve built incredible things but we probably could have been more careful in doing so. I’m glad the kids these days are more thoughtful.”

“Ecological awareness is certainly at an all time high. Reflecting that in our next choice of corporate sponsor could help keep our youngest demographics more engaged. Have you had a chance to review the offer from The Environmental Nature Center?”

David turned toward Ms. Yu and reached down to his desk to pick up the packet labeled simply “ENC”. “Yes, it’s a beautiful offer. Their suggestion for the park name was… let’s see… ah, yes: The Greens at ENC Park. It’s a name befitting an elegant and thoughtful corporate entity. I can see the value. I really love the suggestions they made for native plants and more greenery throughout the park. The mock-ups they provided were gorgeous and would make us fit right in within the LA scene.”

“That’s fantastic, sir! I’ll let them know we’ve accepted their offer as soon as we’re through here. Our fans in LA are going to love this!” Connie exuded a rare enthusiasm. The plan was largely hers, after all, and provided a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to parlay a personal passion into a meaningful change to the world.

“Oh, hold your horses their, honey. I didn’t say I’ve accepted the offer.” David casually rebuked.

Connie was so taken aback by the change of course that she barely registered the harassing “honey” that typically would have caused her to verbally eviscerate the fool that dared hurl such a charged term. “I thought you said…”

“Oh I liked their offer quite a bit. Turns out, though, that the Bears aren’t in Los Angeles. They’re in Bakersfield. We aren’t quite so caught up in making people think we care about things we don’t care about. We like sports and drinkin’ and the Bakersfield sound.” David Novak offered no venom in the tone with which he spoke, but Connie could sense a growing toxicity within his train of thought.

“Sir, that’s not what this would be about! We really could make a diff-”

“Meh. Maybe. It doesn’t really matter to a baseball team’s bottom line, though, if the plants in centerfield are native or invasive. Hell they could be genetically engineered marvels that seek only domination of the entire region. I really couldn’t care less. They just have to be green, so my hitters can see a fastball coming in at 98 miles per hour. Now, before you get all up in arms, let me just let you know that our local friends from right here in Bakersfield, the kind folks over at Aera have made us a generous offer. We can even name our park something nice and green sounding to keep that Los Angeles crowd happy: The Oaks at Aera Park. Got a nice ring to it, eh?”

Connie was sick upon hearing the name. Aera Energy was a natural gas and oil production company that profited from dumping millions of tons of CO2 into the atmosphere. This was the exact opposite result of what Connie had been working toward for months. “David, please… people will know it’s not sincere… they’ll see through this!”

“Of course they will! And they’ll still come. At least the ones we can fit! We’ve got an exciting team! Bothwell’s bat and two young hotshot superstar pitchers in Mendoza and Carter! People will flock to see us take the division again! Oh, good news on that front – we’re expanding our seating to accommodate even more butts in seats. The league won’t let me build the fourth deck, but we’ll have the capacity to seat 65,000 this year! Think of the added revenue! Now get out there and sell our new corporate sponsor, our new stadium name, and more season tickets!”

In a just world, this man would be failing to sell old cars to savvy buyers, Connie thought to herself. But we don’t live in a just world now do we, honey? She could hear a strange combination of her mother’s voice and David’s. “Sir, the ENC has offered to refurbish our landscapes with native plants at cost. It will fit within the landscaping budget, can we at least proceed with that?”

David looked at his employee and felt a pang of generosity that he in no way deserved, “Of course, young lady. You can change the plants. As long as they’re green!” he gleamed, grinning ear to ear.

“Sir, if I may ask, you seemed convinced earlier by the ENC’s offer – it even beat out the renewal offer from Yum! Why the change of heart?” Connie asked, searching for any last minute opportunity to overturn the decision.

“Sometimes you just gotta see where the world is going, kiddo. The future is gas, gas, gas, baby! Also, I’m old and I’m tired of not having an extra $1.2 million dollars.” David winked as he spoke those last few words, before turning toward his office bar and the view over The Oaks at Aera Field.

[Arroyos]

I share Connie's frustration with David. The future is NOT "gas, gas, gas" and hasn't been for half a century. The old boy deserves a good wallop upside the head. Maybe Connie will give him one! I look forward to her subversion of his dinosaurean vision for the future.