July 13, New Frontier Stadium, 2012 – 10:00 a.m. 

Jeff Cline slid into Cooper Scott’s office and leaned back against the wall next to the door.  It was as far away as he could be and still be in the office.

“Jeff, won’t you have a seat?”  Scott indicated a plush chair placed squarely in front of his desk.

“No, Cooper, this isn’t going to take that long, and this wall is plenty comfy.  Besides, I am not entirely certain that you and that ridiculous Cobb haven’t rigged this room with some chute to a dungeon or fiery furnace or a pit full of snakes.”

Scott flinched, taken aback at the accusation and anger in Cline’s voice.  “Jeff, I am not sure what I did to make you feel like you do.  We played together, we were a team, we won together.  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Look, I heard how you ran Tanner out of here on a rail with some trumped-up charge of taking money… quite frankly, my loyalty left when he did.  The direction you are taking this team is quite frightening, actually.”  Cline crossed his arms and continued to scowl at Scott.  “I’m not getting any younger, Scott, and I wanna go out as a winner, not as some overpaid has-been who you use as a glorified mascot… ‘Come to the games and see PEBA great Cline play!  Buy this limited edition Cline jersey!’…”

“Jeff, can’t you see that I am just trying to offer you a chance to finish out your career with the Trendsetters?  To be able to walk in as an inaugural PEBA Hall of Famer in your Trendsetters jersey?  To give the fans the joy of getting to see the player they love hang around and not playing for some other team… or ever worse, a team rival?”  Scott slid a piece of paper that had been folded in half in the direction of Cline.  “Jeff, I know that offer probably isn’t what you think you deserve, but it’s a starting number for us.  Take a look at it, contact your agent, your family… let me know what you think.”

Cline didn’t even look at paper; instead, he removed his own folded paper from his back pocket and slid it towards Scott.  “What’s this?” Scott asked as he picked up the paper.  “This isn’t a contract offer.”

“No, it’s a different kind of legal document… it’s a restraining order to keep you and Cobb from bothering my family at my house.  I saw you in your ridiculous hat two nights ago, running away from my house just after you finished TP’ing my yard.  Then, last night, that freak Cobb was running around in that stuffed costume of his, throwing eggs at my door.  My three-year-old couldn’t sleep in his own bed after that whole incident.  So let me put this clearly: trade me, release me, whatever you gotta do… get me off this team.  We’re done here, and if I ever see you near my house again, you will see just how fast my bat speed is up close and personal.”  Cline slammed the door shut on his way out.  The paper on which Scott extension offer was written floated slowly to the floor.

Scott picked up the phone.  “Cobb, yeah, it’s Coop.  Have we been terrorizing Cline at his house?  No, I didn’t think so, but we come up with so many ideas, I don’t always remember the ones we decide to act on… No, no I don’t think we should tonight… No, I don’t think we will all have a good laugh after it’s over.  By the way, where is your H.R. Pufnstuf costume?  Stanfeld was supposed to pick it up from the dry cleaners… You haven’t got it back?  Okay, I gotta go… No, I won’t reconsider the whole ‘mess with Cline’ thing… and you shouldn’t, either.”

Scott hung up the phone, picked it back up and asked his executive assistant to get Stanfeld in his office immediately.  Scott began browsing through his directory.  “Hmmm… who can I unload Cline on… Trader Matt?  Hmmm… probably not.  Guess I will just start at the top… ‘A’ for ‘Arlington’…”

“Mr.  Scott… no one has seen Stanfeld since yesterday afternoon.  The security guard saw him leave, but he hasn’t made it to work today and he isn’t answering his cell phone.  Oh, and Mr. Cobb is on line 2.”

Cobb sounded perplexed.  “Hey, the dry cleaners said he can’t find the costume… said there was some kind of break-in.  Should I file a missing costume report or something?  I tried that once before… you know, when I forgot that I had loaned it to Matt way back… they kind of told me not to ever call them again.  I think they misunderstood when I joked about how I was a celebrity and bigger than Elvis even, and that fact alone should bump me up their case list to the top, right above finding aliens and why I wasn’t being paid more.  Apparently, they had to keep both those cases under wraps and weren’t too happy that an everyday citizen like me might know that, and they got scared and hung up on me.”

“Cobb, I think I need to examine just who I hang out with on a regular basis.  This isn’t looking like it’s going to turn out good.  Time to call Bob to see if I can borrow that detective chick of his.”