Tropical Storm Willem

[Borealis]

Front Page Version

Tropical Storm Willem

November 2, 2032: Little Bay, Montserrat – Will Topham pulled the sheet of paper from his breast pocket and unfolded it, staring at the message on it. He smirked at the salutation - ‘Your Brother’. Right… Brother my ass. Clueless bastard. Thieving bastard. Selfish bastard. Why, Dad?

The GM of the Borealis looked out over the pale, crystal blue of the Caribbean, as the small jet banked and prepared to land at the airfield at Little Bay, Montserrat. What was to be a pleasure trip wrapped up as a business trip, becomes a nightmare. After three years of work on the island, the baseball facility was complete – a first class complex for the Mystique. Also completed was the Soufrière Hills Resort and the recreated recording studio, housing Golden Records, the company’s latest entertainment venture. But instead of openings and the formal, maiden broadcast from the recording studio, Will Topham had a mess.

Brother my ass!

That evening a crowd of locals, former-Aurora players – with a few current ones sprinkled in, assembled at the Soufrière Hills Resort ballroom for the first annual awards ceremony, honoring the top players in the organization for the year – as well as those who received league honors. It was going to be a hard enough night – co-hosting the event – any event, with George Crocker, was a challenge. But now this – dealing with Junior.

F’ing bastard. Who does he think he is? Will had been running the Borealis for 22-years now. 7-times he guided the club to the PEC. Four times they had won. Three in a row, for Christ’s sake – hell, I even managed the club myself one year – and won! No thanks to that greedy gut Kojima. Why was he so angry this time? God I need a shot of tequila.

He moved towards the bar, debating Reposado or Añejo, when he was accosted from behind. He whirled around, and just as his right hand curled into a fist…

“Yo, Yo, Yo – Willie T, The Boy Wonder GM. Wuz Up my friend. So good to see you. It’s been so long. Like Long. Quite the digs here, eh? They took us on a tour of the studio today – MAN!!! Can we do all our broadcasts from down here? That would so be the BOMB!! Markie-Mark would love, Love, LOVE IT!!”

I got to calm down – I almost clobbered George – as annoying as he is…

“George Crocker,” more composed, that’s better… deep breath, “Things are well.” Better. “I’m not sure it’s realistic to call games all the way down here, but if you really wanted to, I’m sure Mark wouldn’t complain.”

Better. Now, about that tequila…

But before he could get a step towards the bar, George Crocker grabbed him again. “No time, Big Boy! They want us up on the stage – it’s Go Time for the Show Time!! Know what I mean. Time to hand out some hardware. You know, some hammers and nails, maybe a skill saw?”

This is going to be a long night.

“Just a second, George – you go ahead, you introduce him. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Him?” George asked. Short. Sweet. No pedantic Crocker.

“My half-brother.” My nasty ass half-brother… always half…. Aurora’s GM turned and hustled to the bar, where he waved to catch the Bartender’s eye, “Tequila – anything tequila.” With a nod, the bartender turned, grabbed a bottle of Casa Amigos and held it up. “Perfect… Double shot.”

The bartender poured out the shot – a pair, actually. Will picked up the first and turned in time to see George Crocker opine about the time he was in Bogata and how he and his girlfriend – his drug-dealing girlfriend, as it turned out. What was her name? Sandra? Georgiana! That was it. That was 20-years ago. Ugh… Topham slammed the shot back. Closed his eyes. How is that even possible? He turned and grabbed the other. As he contemplated it, a commotion on the stage caught his attention – his brother… Bastard Half-Brother… escorting George Crocker off the stage while relieving the long-time Aurora announcer of the mic.

“Thank you George,” Michael Topham, Jr started, “but enough with the fantasies.” Fantasies? They weren’t fantasies. He lived those tales. He really did. He almost died. “Tonight is a big night for the Aurora Organization, as we honor our own, for their achievements in the 2032 season.” F’ing peacock. As Junior continued his self-important chatter, Will stepped back towards the bar and signaled to the bartender for one more.

“… Although the season was a disappointment – I won’t sugar-coat it, we are here to honor outstanding play. Here with that is our esteemed GM,” Esteemed? Down went the last shot, and with a loud crack of the shot glass hitting the bar, he walked to the stage.

Will Topham, GM of the Aurora Borealis climbed the steps in a slight wobble, but when he somewhat rudely snatched the mic from his (half, always his half) brother, he centered himself on the stage, closed his eyes – just for a second, and centered his mind, just like being on court, a big serve, and began with clarity.

“Thank you, Mikey,” using that same derogatory name George started using with Aurora’s long deceased owner. Dad always hated that name – and he does, too. Look at him grimace. “Welcome. Today I bring to you our Organizational awards.” He reached into his pocket for his notes, and instead pulled out Junior’s note to him. Man… don’t do it Will… Chill, dude…

“I want to start with our Rookie League club, our hosts, the Montserrat Mystique.” A healthy cheer went up in the ballroom for the home team. At Montserrat, we had a young man whom we signed out of Costa Rica a couple of years ago, and he worked hard at the International Complex for those two years. This year he was promoted to Montserrat and he did great things this year. He hit .379 for the Mystique, with 12 HR, 57 RBI and even earned a brief stint at Mokule’ia, where he was 5-17 with a double and homer in their 4-game playoff stint. I present to you Aurora’s Rookie League Player of the Year, the IBC Platinum Stick center fielder, Tony Munoz.” Cheers abound, whistles, too, as the young, 19-year old outfielder took the stage to accept his award.

In like fashion, Will Topham went through the organization, recognizing achievement and excellence. At least someone is playing well. I have no idea what happened to our system. OK, Will, that’s not 100% true – success, that’s what happened to our system. 3B David Simmons at Mokule’ia, If ever we had an enigma in our system, it’s this guy – at least the scouts think he’s growing... CF Bill Smith at San Luis Rio Colorado, What a scrappy guy. He was so bad last year, after the draft. Did show some pop, though – and built upon that. SP Gordon Dobson at Gatineau, the PCAL Outstanding Pitcher Award winner, Man, how did Florida let this guy go? Drew must be shaking his head. LF Gabriel Rodriguez of Thornton, Poor guy, missed the RML batting title by a point – that ankle cost him a batting title and a shot of playing time in Aurora – at least his clock isn’t ticking like Raul’s.

Next the GM recognized those who won League honors – Munoz’ Platinum Stick in the IBC, where he and OF Jose Gonzalez received some MVP votes, Man, Gonzalez reminds me of G-Rod. Kamatari Kurota also won a Platinum stick - this in the Hawaiian League (Surf and Snow). He and Simmons also got some votes for MVP in the Hawaii League, while Gordon MacMurchie got a vote for Outstanding pitcher, that’s something, I guess. The Oceanics’ closer Juan Rodriguez was the Reliever of the Year in the Hawaiian league. Bill Smith won a Platinum Stick in the Baja-Cali League (NAFTA) – the Rapidos Blancos’ only high recognition on the year. Dobson won the Outstanding Pitcher award in the PCAL (Great Northern League), the only bit of hardware for the Balloonists. At Thornton of the Rocky Mountain League (Global Baseball Brotherhood), catcher Pedro de la Cruz won a Platinum Stick, rounding out the awards. I really have to figure out how to get him onto the major league roster. The Organization had won a top positional hitter award at every level, save AA, and had an Outstanding Pitcher and Reliever award.

Once Will Topham presented the Organizational Top Pitcher and Hitter award to Dobson and Gabriel Rodriguez, he turned himself to the Borealis. He shoved his minor league notes back into his pocket and pulled out another sheet – again, the note from Michael Topham, Jr. Ugh! He went to fish for his other sheet – the one that named Henry Cluett and ‘Litterbug’ as Aurora’s Pitcher and Hitter of the Year, when he stopped – closed his eyes, took a deep breath, Here goes nothing. “We are lucky. Us,” as he spread his hands across the audience filled with fans, players – young and old, coaches, front office types, “We are lucky. It was 22-years ago that fate fell in our hands. It was luck that had my father,” I miss you Dad “had served with John Rodriguez, Sr. It was Golden Entertainment’s great fortune that he wanted Dad to have the team. John and his son,” talk about bastards – Chris… “they built a dynasty, that we extended – made our own.” No thanks to you, Mikey. “Dad lived to see two titles. He died before a third and before he could see the dynasty he helped build… That we built together.” Calm… stay calm… “But this is what I get now – and have every season since Dad died.”

Will holds up the note from his brother – half-brother, always half. Waves it in his fist, angrily. Mockingly, “’Build a dynasty’, build a dynasty? In the PEBA’s 26 years, we have won 100+ more games than the second best team,” Friggin’ ‘Gnats! “100 games – That’s a dynasty!” He looks down at the note, which he has uncrumpled out of his fist, staring at the heading, ‘Michael Topham, Jr., Owner, Aurora Borealis’ and gazes across at his brother, Half. “A dynasty… Because if you aren’t winning it all every year, you are doing a rotten job.”

“You know what else is on this note? Let me quote, ‘I’m really disappointed that you didn’t heed my (demand) advice and re-sign ‘Tugboat’ – a fan favorite that brought additional income to the team on days he pitched.’ Really?” Moron. “Really? Anyone here see Randy’s numbers?” Well, aside from against us. “He walked more than he struck out. Randy. Smith. Walked more than he K’d. And then tore his rotator. Guess who he is going to see for the surgery? Not those quacks in Japan,” You’re losing it… watch yourself. “He’s using our medical team. We already have an agreement to coach – likely next season, and why? It’s not because of Mr. Sign Randy Smith over there.” Flippantly gesturing his hand in the younger Mikey’s Topham’s direction.

“Let’s not even get started,” OK… you have, might as well go all in on this bastard. “on his request to increase attendance, decrease spending and finish deep in the black. Why? So he can pocket more. He hates forking out money. This is a family business, and he just wants to fill his pockets. Stop taking money away – We can’t build a winner when you keep taking money away.” Duh! “We can’t increase attendance if you keep taking money away.” Duh-Squared!

That brief tirade ended just as quickly as it started – a tropical whirlwind – rain, wind, a blink of the eye, over. Just like that.

With that, he reached for the other sheet in his pocket and walked to a stunned George Crocker, standing just on the edge of the stage. “Here, George, you close out with these last two. I need another shot.” Make that a double…

“Wowzah!” the under-spoken Crocker said, “I mean, Willie T, ain’t you afraid he’ll fire ya? Send ya a-packing? Point ya to the door and paint it pink?”

“I’m not worried George. He can’t fire me – I’m his brother.”

With that, George Crocker’s head cocking back and forth as if on a rocker, William Topham, GM of the Aurora Borealis headed to the bar – and as he approached, the bartender held up both a bottle and a shot glass, and gave the GM a sly smile. He poured. Will Topham threw it back, gave a little full-body shiver and headed out of the ballroom.

Before he turned the corner, he turned back and looked back at George Crocker. “Aurora’s Outstanding Pitcher of the year goes to… Henry Cluett. Yes folks, that’s ‘Professor Plum’ to all you Boys and Girls down there in Kokomo.