Date:  April 4^th, 2011

It feels so good to be off that plane and back on land here in Palm Springs, California.  I have never been very comfortable with flying.  Unfortunately I am not here for pleasure, as I need to head to the Elderberry Field to meet up with the Codgers GM Denny Hills.  When I had Jenny book the meeting, she told him that I was just a sports journalist from the New Jersey area writing a piece about his team’s solid play so far this year.  Hopefully if Mr. Hills does have some sort of hidden agenda or is trying to hide something, a surprise before his game tonight will keep him from having enough time to conceal anything.

From what little I could gather about him, Mr. Hills is an emotional and eccentric man.  Hopefully I can get some answers out of him without blowing my cover.  I approach his office door and give it a knock.

“Miguel, is that you?  Come in, come in,” says the muffled voice behind the door.  I wonder to myself who “Miguel” is as I enter.  Denny peers over at me from behind his desk and seems upset I am not the man he thought I was.  “Who in tarnation are you, and why are you in my office?!”  I am going to need to try and calm him down in order to get the answers I need.

“I am sorry, Mr. Hills.  My secretary contacted you about a press meeting late last week.  I am…”  I am interrupted by Mr. Hills.  “Don’t buffalo me, boy, I know who you are.  There is something called “caller ID”, you know… Besides, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if anyone in New Jersey cares about us over here on the West Coast.  Now what is it you really want?  And if it isn’t anything good, I want you out of my dang office.” Mr. Hills seems to have become agitated with my sudden company.

“Well, I guess I will get right to the point then.  Why did you trade Mishe Sascheikov to the New Jersey Hitmen?” I ask him outright.  Denny gives me a dumbfounded look like he doesn’t know who I am talking about.  “A stocky Lithuanian minor league pitcher…” I add as he continues to stare at me…

Denny adjusts himself in his chair, then takes a deep breath and looks back at me.  “So what are you trying to get at?  You think I am afraid of a bunch of goombahs that walk into my office flashing their guns about, demanding I ship some no-name arm to the East Coast for some other no-name kid in return?”  Denny sinks detested in his chair covering his face with his hands.  He continues to mumble while spinning in his chair away from me.  “…Of course I did what they said… I’m not about to lose my life over some player… well, maybe for Miguel…”  His voice becomes almost inaudible and I can’t make out the last bit.

“So you are saying that Mr. Czosnyka forced you to trade the player to him?”  I continue to grill Denny.  “That goonish phony?  I don’t know how John ever allowed that man to manage a team in our league.  No, no, I remember him from the preseason manager meeting.  It was some lanky fellow and his fat friend.  They came here threatening me with all sorts of horrific things that I care not to repeat.  So I signed the consarned papers and gave them whoever it was they wanted… Not like the kid was any good, anyway.”

Denny seems to be calming down and seems willing to cooperate with me.  “The lanky guy’s name was like Cook… Cookie… Klunky…”  “Kuklinski?” I ask Mr. Hills.  “Yeah that’s him.  And the fat, mean-looking one was Andrew something with a K.”  I try to think to myself who this other gentlemen could be.  “What’s with those guys, anyway?  What do they want with that kid?” Denny asks me now as I stare at his desk lost in thought.  I give him a sort of pained look, as I don’t want to have to tell him anymore than he already knows.  He instantly picks up on my mood change.  “You know what, never mind.  Probably better for my headache to not know anymore…

“Listen son, I got a game I got to get to shortly.  I assume you got what you came for?  Then get out of here, and I don’t want to see you or those cretins again.”  Denny stands up now and starts to push me to the door.  As we reach the door, one more thing pops into my head, yet I don’t really want to ask it now…  “Denny… you said at the Spring Meeting something about the Commissioner and a possible murder attempt.”

Denny twitches slightly at the question, then begins laughing out loud in front of me.  Laughing so hard he has to wipe the tears from his eyes.  “I’m flabbergasted, kid; you got ears everywhere, don’t you?  That was nothing more than a joke.  Sure, me and John had our scuffles from time to time.  Bloody league’s bleeding me dry with its ‘help keep the crap teams afloat’ plan, but it was nothing more than an argument between bickering old men.  You should be ashamed for even bringing up something like that.  John Rodriguez, Sr. was the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I’ve ever known in my life.  Now get out of here, I’m short on time and patience.” Denny begins mumbling to himself as I finally begin to walk away.

Why do I feel like I just got scolded by my father?  Well, he definitely is an interesting man, but I am happy to put my concerns to rest.  It is good to know that Denny was forced into the trade and seems to be clear of any wrongdoing.  I didn’t want to think he had any connections to any of this.  Well, that’s one Lithuanian player down, two more to go.  Guess I will stick around and catch the game tonight before I head to my motel room.  I have to get Jenny to pick me up some more plane tickets.  Will probably be easier to head straight over to Virginia rather than head back to the office in New Jersey first.

I go back to my car and put my recorder and some papers away, then I head back to the stadium to catch the game.  Little do I know that there is a car parked not far off that is watching my every move…