May 14, 2012: Boston, MA – Jim Doucette was a lifelong resident of Boston, Massachusetts.  He was born at City Hospital in 1988 and spent the next 24 years living in the same neighborhood.  When he was 18, he fell in love with an aspiring actress, and the couple is soon to be married.  Jim graduated from Stonehill College in 2010 with a degree in political science.  Realizing that he hated politics, and could not bear the thought of law school, Jim secured a small loan from his father, The Banker, and opened a small coffee shop and book nook in one of the city’s trendier neighborhoods.  In the meantime, he practiced his own writing, hoping to make it big in the world of historical and alternative fiction.  He published a couple books, but whether anyone actually bought them is a story on its own.

Like many of the residents in Boston, Jim believed that baseball was in his blood.  The game was much more than form of entertainment and something to discuss at one of the city’s many sports bars – rather, it was a lifestyle and something so engrained into the community that it found itself in everything from classrooms to bars to Beacon Hill.

Jim, like other fans of the game, was devastated when Major League Baseball announced its economic collapse.  Since childhood, Jim had felt a nostalgic sense of calm when watching the game live or on television – he felt connected to the legends that he used to hear bedtime stories about.  Of course, Jim blamed the collapse on “the Damn Yankees” and looked elsewhere for his baseball fix.

At first, Jim turned to the Cape Cod League.  Hundreds of the best college players would come to Cape Cod, just a 45-minute drive from his house, to showcase their talents for Major League scouts.  However, with the downfall of MLB, there was quickly a dwindling interest in Cape ball.

Then, as if by some divine force, Jim’s prayers were answered with the PEBA.  But with no team close enough to follow on a regular basis, Jim still felt a little empty.  Sure, he loved watching the game again and loved predicting who the next big star would be, but what he really craved was a team to call his own.

Jim found an outlet for this frustration in his writing.  The two novels that he published were baseball-based.  The first story was about a young boy who got baseball advice from the spirits of deceased Major League legends.  He then went on to forge a successful major league career in the bigs as if MLB never collapsed.  Ghosts of Baseball’s Past was successful in circles, but never brought the big check.  His second book, Diamonds Are a Boy’s Best Friend, received even poorer reviews.  This story was about the community building powers of the game as a retired major leaguer brought the game to Africa in an attempt to stabilize a traditionally tribal community.

While few people actually read either book, one person that did was a member of the Kalamazoo Badgers’ Board of Trustees.  The same board now found themselves trying to persuade Jim to take the open General Manager’s position in Kalamazoo.  “You see, Jim, I’ve read both of your books and they both ooze with the kinds of things we’re looking for,” a Trustee said.  “There is more to the game than just the present… the past and future are important aspects as well.  And we, too, believe in the community building aspects of the game.  We believe in you.”

For Jim, this seemed like a scene out of a really cheesy movie where everything goes right in the end.  “While that’s all well and good, I must admit I know next to nothing about the Badgers.  I know you have Joel Swedlove at second base and John Collins in the middle of the lineup, but that’s about it.  While I’m flattered by your offer, I’m not really sure I’m qualified for the spot.”

The Trustee replied, “But we do believe you’re qualified.  We’ll pay for travel expenses and provide a housing voucher.  At the very least, think of the possible media coverage of you and you books.  If it’s not you, Jim, the Badgers are on the fast track out of Kalamazoo.  At 24, this could be your team for a very long time.”

My team. Jim liked the sound of that.  After little more debate, he signed the contract and invited his fiancé to join him and the trustees in celebratory champagne.  The couple would be flying out to Kalamazoo with the Trustees the next morning for a press conference and to get settled into the office.  He knew the draft was less than a month away and the next few weeks would be spent preparing for it.

As the Trustees began to part, promising to meet again in the morning, one turned back to Jim, slightly startled as if he were just remembering something important.  “Hey, Jim.  One more thing…” he started.  “You mind emailing in the lineup for tonight’s game?”