Rocking and Rolling

[Arroyos]

Rocking and Rolling


Time to shake things up, Yuma’s owner thought. Time to rock some boats and roll some heads.

Slummings was home. Slummings was happy. Slummings was in his element.

The silver-bearded old man who had once lived on the streets of Yuma was out of jail and back in charge of the ball club he owned, the Yuma Bulldozers.

Gotta change that name, Slummings thought. First order of business. Then we roll some heads!

Slummings ordered a new cell phone, he ordered a new suit, a new cowboy hat, some comfy new moccasins, and he brought in people to shampoo and trim his hair, comb his beard, polish his toenails and massage his hands and feet. When they were done he donned his new duds and looked at himself in the mirror.

“Whoa, dude!” he exclaimed aloud. “Who dat?” Then he laughed and spun around—a slow spin, mind you, he had just turned 70—and giving himself an approving nod in the mirror said, “I look so good I oughta run for Congress.”

The idea tickled his funny bone and he laughed aloud so long he was out of breath and had to sit down and breathe slowly. But he was still smiling on the outside and chuckling inwardly. The old boy was in a helluva good mood.

“Oh yeah,” he said, “let’s shake things up, rock some boats and roll some heads.”

Slummings called the PEBA Commissioner’s office. “I’m sorry, Mr. Slummings, but the Commissioner is in a meeting right now. Can I take a message?”

“You sure can, sweetheart. You tell the Commish that the Bulldozers don’t exist anymore. Tell him we’re holding a contest down here in Yuma to find a new name for my ball club. And you remind him, it’s my club, got that?”

“Well, Mr. Slummings, I’ll tell him but I’m sure that he would want me to remind you that any team name changes have to be approved by the Commissioner’s Office.”

“Well now, Sweetie Pie, before you give my message to good ol’ Mike, you print off the historical record of the former Yuma Bulldozers and hand that to him. He’ll see the wisdom of changing the name of the losingest franchise in the history of the PEBAverse.”

“Okay, Mr. Slummings, I’ll do that but—”

“No ifs, ands or buts, Honey Bunches, just hand him Yuma’s miserable record, he’ll understand. Oh, and while you’re at it, you can inform him we’ll be changing the name of the stadium as well. Don’t know how a ballpark in the goddamn desert got named for some Midwest farm tractor!”

“Well, Mr. Slummings, historically speaking, the John Deere—”

“Do not utter that name, Sugarlips. I ain’t interested in history. We’re building a future here in Yuma, and there’s no room in that future for antique farm equipment. Tell the Commish I will keep him informed about the name change.”

“But, Mr. Slummings, as I tried to—”

“Yes, m’lady, you tried. Tell your boss I was rude and wouldn’t not listen. Tell him anything you want but make sure you tell him heads are rolling down here in Yuma. You tell him that, ya hear?”

“Mr. Slummings, if you’d just—”

“Bye bye, Baby Blue, bye bye.”

One boat very shaken, Slummings thought, now for some head rolling. He dialed another number on his new cell phone.

“Roberta! You still my GM?”

“Acting GM,” Roberta corrected him. “But I’m glad to hear you’re back with us. How was your respite? They treat you well? Nice accommodations in the Justice System, I hear.”

Slummings laughed. “Oh, yeah, luxury rooms. And the food service! So reliable you can set your clock by it—if they’d let you have a clock.”

Roberta chuckled. “What can I do for you?”

“First off, what’s preventing me from naming you my permanent GM? None of this ‘acting’ business.”

“Just the man in the hospital, that’s all, boss.”

“I’ll fire him.”

“Your staff will quit.”

“They’re that loyal to this whacko?”

“Yup.”

Slummings frowned. “You too, Roberta? Your first loyalty is to a committed mental case rather than me?”

“Loyal to you both, boss, but nearly everyone in this office has been through a lot with him, all of it before you arrived on the scene—”

“And saved your asses,” Slummings interrupted.

“… and saved our asses, yessir. But if you just dump him, without meeting with him, well, your golden reputation will turn to mud.”

“Gold doesn’t turn to mud,” Slummings objected.

“Bad metaphor, but you get my drift.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Slummings admitted reluctantly. “I’m gonna have to talk to this guy is what you’re saying, right?”

“Meet him,” Roberta emphasized.

“Shit, I gotta go all the way to—where the hell is that hospital he’s in anyway?”

“Camarillo. Short train ride away.”

“I can’t call him?”

“They don’t always let him take phone calls. Besides, you really need to sit down and talk to him. You’ll learn something.”

“Learn something? What the fuck do I want to do that for? This isn’t my education we’re talking about here, this is my ball club. What the hell is a man in a nut house gonna teach me anyway?”

Roberta didn’t answer.

“You hear me? What am I spozed to learn from this guy?”

Roberta spoke slowly, “You got great ideas, Mr. Slummings, and the money to make them happen. And we’re all beholding to you for ‘saving our asses,’ as you put it.”

“But? I know there’s a but coming.”

“You don’t have his people skills. People felt … I don’t know, special, I guess, valued even. He made every one of us feel valued.”

“And I don’t?”

Slummings could hear Roberta’s hesitation on the other end of the line. “Your job ain’t on line, honey, just tell me.”

Roberta took a deep breath. “Okay, Mr. Slummings—”

“Taffy,” he interrupted. “You can call me Taffy.”

“Taffy?”

“Like the candy. Ever eat any? Salt water taffy is the best.”

“Taffy, then, sir.”

“Oh, c’mon, Roberta. Cut the sir crap.”

“What I’m about to say needs a sir … Taffy.”

Slummings chuckled. “Okay. Spit it out, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Roberta gathered her resolve. “Two things. First off, stop calling us sweetheart or honey or any of those other cutesy names you use for the women in this office. Sir.”

Slummings was speechless. It was hardly what he had expected to hear. “Well, okay, yeah, I mean … Roberta?”

“Yes, Taffy?”

“Why?”

“Why shouldn’t you be calling us those pet names of yours?”

“Yeah, why not? You said they were cute.”

“Cutesy is what I said, sir, and I meant it in a negative way.”

“Negatively cutesy.”

“Yessir. Demeaning, if you want to know precisely. Patronizing.”

Slummings took it in. “Okay, sweet— Okay, Roberta. I can do that—well, I can try to do that, but it’s a habit, you know, it doesn’t mean anything, just an old man’s way of talking.”

“But it’s not flattering to a woman’s ears.”

“I see. And the nut case—the GM in the hospital—he never called his staff by nicknames?”

“Nicknames, yes, like Tipi for my last name, but not generic labels.”

“Generic?” Slummings whistled. “I had no idea. Well, okay then, since we’re rocking boats, out with the generics. We’ll have only, uh, name brands in our office!”

“Very good, sir.”

“But if I’m giving up my generics, you gotta give the old heave-ho to sir.”

After a moment, Roberta responded. “Deal, Taffy.”

Slummings couldn’t help smiling. This day was going very well and he liked this woman very much. If he were 30 years younger, well, if he were 30 years younger he wouldn’t be the new owner of the Yuma … the Yuma … the fucking Yuma whatever-they’re-gonna-be-called!

“Roberta, that was first on your list. What’s second? I hope there’s nothing third because all this palavering has delayed the day’s main event: head rolling!” Slummings waited to hear Roberta’s response, but the other end of the line remained quiet. “Are you smiling at least?” he asked.

“Oh yes, I’m smiling, s— uh, Taffy. Who’s head is gonna roll? Not mine I presume.”

“Yours, no, of course not, how could you even think that? The heads I wanna see roll are all wearing Dozer uniforms. Your sweet head is far too … oh, wait, I did it again, didn’t I? Sweet head is a lot like sweet heart, isn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Well, uh, Roberta, here it is, plain and simple. Your brains are too valuable for this organization. Got that? So you can tell me straight, what’s your second demand?”

“Not a demand, a suggestion. You need to meet with GM Mayberry in person, at the hospital. I can arrange it for you, but it’s important—it’s necessary—you meet him before you start making changes in this organization.”

“Because he won’t approve? And you don’t want me to make changes? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not at all. Just the opposite. He’ll approve, I’m sure of it, and then you’ll have his approval, his blessing if you will, and that means—”

“I’ll have the support of the entire staff.”

“Yessir, uh, Taffy.”

Slummings sighed. “Okay, I’ll try it your way, but can we get to the fun part of this conversation now?”

“Fun?”

“Shall we start a list?”

“Of what?” Roberta asked.

“Heads, my dear Tipitina, heads!” Slummings stopped himself again. “Did I do it again? Is dear on your list of demeaning terms too?”

Roberta was smiling on the other end of the line. Slummings could sense it even though he couldn’t see her.

“Yes,” she said, “and no. It comes and goes. But you used it with my last name, so … let’s not bother about it now. I’ll let you know if it begins to bug me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will, yessum. Now—you got paper? Ready to write? The list is long.”

Roberta was poised, pen in hand. “Ballplayers, right? The ones we’re cutting?”

“You got it, baby!” Slummings put his hand over his mouth. The silence from the other end of the line was deafening. After a long moment, he said in a very quiet and contrite voice, “Sorry.”

The voice on the other end of the line didn’t acknowledge his apology. “Names, Slummings, just give me the names.”

[Borealis]

Taffy and Mayberry in a historic pow-wow?? That'll be monumental!!

[Arroyos]

Taffy and Mayberry in a historic pow-wow?? That'll be monumental!!

Too monumental to actually happen? I'm taking bets it will never happen.

[Sandgnats]

Slummings has it going on for his age! What a man!