Not an Accident
May 30th, Late afternoon, New Frontier Park offices
“Stay the course… in the end it will be clear, but it all depends… everything balanced on the head of a pin… stay the course, Coop; stay the course.”
Cooper Scott stared at the phone number as the line went dead. “International call,” he muttered. “I don’t know who in the world… but it sounded like… Cobb.” Scott ran his hand through his hair and stared out the window. It had been months since he had heard from his friend. The whole costume, bag, hat and detective thing, and then Cobb had just dropped off the radar. So much had happened; the trade with Florida, picking up Sushi, and then the rash of injuries that made May the drag that it was. Scott felt that he had aged ten years in the last two months. Having a plan was easy. Everybody thought they could run a baseball team… and judging from the message boards out there, most people thought they could better than him. Sticking with the plan despite all the bumps, the curves, the screwballs; that’s where the rubber hits the road. The fire sale of the past two summers (Conan, Cline, Phelps gone) doesn’t have to repeat itself, and yet the itch is always there – to tear down and rebuild, find a new foundation.
A single hotel light snaped on in the distance, as Cooper muttered to himself, “Stay the course.”
May 31st, Mid-Afternoon, Cooper’s personal luxury box
Somehow, the Trendsetters were up 4-0. Helms was pitching like a man possessed and the offense, as underwhelming as ever, had only managed three hits, all in the same inning. The phone rang as Helms took the mound to start the fifth inning. “Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Scott… what? No… this is some kind of a sick joke, right? I just talked to him two days ago. He was fine… no, no I understand… I… thanks for letting me know. Yes, I will prepare an official statement for the Trendsetters. Thanks…” The phone clicked back with a hollow sound. Scott slumped back into his chair and closed his eyes.
May 31st, Post-game press conference
Scott strode slowly to the podium to make his announcement. “The Trendsetter family is indeed saddened by recent events that have transpired. Hal Spade was a beloved New Orleans figure who brought baseball and joy to millions of fans each summer in the Big Easy. In light of his passing, baseball suddenly becomes just a game, and the things that matter the most – our loved ones, friends and families alike – are brought to mind and fill our heart. We will continue to take the field and play hard because that is what Hal would have wanted. In his honor, each uniform will be altered to have the letter H.S. put on their left sleeve. There has been a scholarship fund set up in his memory and honor, and donations can be sent in memory and honor to helping students attend nearby Tulane University. I will now open things up for a few questions.”
“Coop, will you be able to work well with Jeremy Spade? Or will there be a new direction handed down from the top?”
Scott paused and then offered, “I don’t yet know what Jeremy will expect or want, but I can assure you that making the Trendsetter organization successful and profitable is the number one priority of both him and me. While I don’t have all the details, I am told that actual transfer of ownership won’t occur until the estate and will have been settled, which could be months. And that is really all I know at this point.”
“What, then, are your thoughts on the game tomorrow with Poirier facing Scott?”
“Honestly, I hope Alex pounds Scott’s hitting into the next county and that it ignites our whole offense. But at times like these, it seems so carelessly silly to carry out grudges against our fellow baseball family. If Scott hit Alex on purpose – which we may never know the truth of – then that’s his guilt to deal with. As long as he isn’t facing us, I wish him the best of luck.”
“Does this benevolent attitude even extend to Tracy Evans?”
“That it does. I like to think that even though I have only been at this for a short period of time, that I get wiser and that I am growing not just as a general manager but as a human being. As far as I am concerned, any rivalry I had with Evans is water under the bridge, and I hope he will mirror my sentiments.”
“You seem to have lost an edge, Coop. What happened to the guy who would make cocky statements and demand attention?”
“I guess I’m just a little tired from all of it… the injuries, the struggling offense, and now something like Mr. Spade passing away. I guess I just don’t have the energy to bear up under the heavy load at this moment, but don’t worry; tomorrow is another day, and the day after that is, as well. Thanks, and no further questions for tonight.”
June 1st, Midnight, New Frontier Park offices
Scott is staring out the window again. The phone breaks into his melancholy stupor.
“Heelllooo?” Scott speaks slowly.
“Coop, it’s me, Cobb… don’t ask me how I know this but Spade’s death was not an accident. Don’t trust Jeremy; he’s no good for the team. I…” Scott was left with nothing but dial tone.