Winters sighed. This was bullshit. This was not how the plan was supposed to go. This was no way for a baseball team to continue to exist. What good was spending to your budget if it was 60 million dollars lower than the competition? Worse still, despite growing gate revenue by nearly $2,000,000, season ticket revenue by over $1,000,000 and selling $100,000 more in merchandise the Underground had again had to drink deeply from their cash reserves at the end of the season after being considerably over budget - even after trading Tony Cuevas and Jose Aguilera mid season. Winters' jaw clenched thinking about this and his knuckles whitened as they gripped the baseball he was holding, resisting a rising urge to test the strength of the old windows in the box. He couldn't fix the system, but maybe he didn't need to.
Instead he dropped the ball, watching for a moment as it rolled away before sitting back down in front of his laptop and notepad. His eyes looked over the team's contracts on the spreadsheet in front of him. The path forward for London was less clear than ever to everyone. Except Winters. He knew exactly where he wanted to go, he just had to figure out the minutia of how to get there. He pulled up his email, a small smile coming to his lips as he re-read the email titled ***CONFIDENTIAL: INITIAL PLAN FOR
Being a scrappy underdog might do it for some folks, but not him. Not the London Underground.
Editor's note: We tried to dissuade Winters from publishing this level of cynicism towards the PEBA but he just grumbled and waved his hand at us to shoo us away. We're still just interns, please forgive us.
