Lunch at Danny’s

2:25 PM

The Calzones brain trust had filtered into Danny’s over the last 5 minutes, finally all getting settled at large table in the front corner of the restaurant near the windows. There wasn’t much of a view, unless you liked staring at traffic on Interstate 35 or at the seedy Motel 6 across the alley. The gathering had been delayed by a few minutes, as there was just a bit of confusion as to which Danny’s on San Bernardo the group was supposed to gather. While they had always had their occasional lunch or dinner meetings at this particular Danny’s, the Calzones Head Scout Héctor Nieves had mistakenly driven to the Danny’s about 10 blocks further south on San Bernardo. Habit, he had explained sheepishly, as that was where he usually dined with his wife.

There was a certain nervous tension as the group quietly stared at their menus. No one had yet spoken about the topic at hand, though everyone expected the topic to come up immediately after ordering their meals.

Duane, new to the group and attending his first lunch with this group in his new job, turned to Isabel and asked for help ordering.

“Nothing with chorizo,” he explained.

Isabel giggled as she replayed in her mind Duane’s unfortunate first experience with the Mexican sausage.

She pointed to the menu in front of Duane.

“The entomatadas are very good here,” she told him, “you’ll like it.”

“Thanks,” he replied.

The table remained quiet again until the waitress appeared several minutes later. They each ordered, with Duane taking the advice of the young assistant and ordering the entomatadas. Isabel, in yet another of her many rituals, ordered the La Famosa Tampiquena, the same meal she ordered every time she dined at Danny’s. Always the rituals for Isabel.

The group sat quietly while their drinks were delivered. As the waitress walked away, GM Higgins opened the conversation.

“I’m as surprised as anyone by this offer,” the Calzones GM said as his eyes scanned the various faces in the group. “Yuma is a team we haven’t even talked to this summer. Mayberry has been mostly incapacitated and incoherent for a long while now. But he sounded remarkably lucid today. So let’s hear it. I want everyone to weigh in. Héctor?”

“Well,” replied the Calzones Head Scout, “I really like the kid we would be giving up. And we paid a small fortune to get him. But if he is going to part with that kid he’s offering, I think we need to do it. We need an ace. There it is. No doubt top of the rotation material.”

“I’m worried about the valuation,” he replied to Héctor. “Trading a closer for a starter. Can we justify it? I don’t want to stick it to Mayberry, he’s been a good trade partner.”

“I am sure the returns on our guy will more than justify the trade,” replied Héctor.
“Look,” said Héctor, as he reached for the laptop sitting next to Isabel and opened it. He clicked open the Calzones proprietary team management software, and clicked open the page with the Yuma rosters and depth charts. “Yuma needs a closer who can do the job now. Not somebody in development.”

He pointed the Yuma rotation. “Lot’s of solid young arms there,” Hector continued, “and more on the way. What he needs and wants are lock down innings at the end of the game. We give him what he wants. More importantly, that team is about to leave some serious marks on the SL, but in order to do it they are going to need some leadership. You know as well as I do, you can have all the talent in the world, but putting together clubhouse chemistry is just as important. We’re giving up a seriously good clubhouse guy, a guy who can keep a young team calm and focused.”

The Calzones GM nodded, and looked in the direction of Calzones manager Sugano.

“Taizo, I need to hear what you have to say.”

The Calzones manager looked around at the other faces at the table. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Need the starter,” he said. “Rotation a headache. Inconsistent.”

The Calzones GM nodded in agreement. He looked towards Duane.

“No draft picks,” said Duane as he stared back at the GM.

“No draft picks,” replied the Calzones GM, “we’re not going there. It’s straight up one for one. You ran a team, in my spot, do you do this deal?”

“I love our guy,” replied Duane. “But this is a no-brainer. We need the starter. Dude is an ace in the making. This is too good to be true.”

“That’s what bothers me,” replied the Calzones GM. “It IS too good to be true. I need to believe this deal is going to be good for Yuma as well.”

Isabel spoke up, fearing that the GM might let his conscience get the better of him.

“It’s quality for quality,” she said. “It’s the deal he asked for. Put aside the starter for reliever non-sense, and Yuma will be getting what they feel they need and what they want at this time. I think it’s a good move on their part.”

The GM looked at the young girl, and then glanced around the table. “Okay, we give up our lefty setup man and gain a starter,” he said slowly. “What do we do about the lefty setup role on our club?”

“Move Steamer back to the pen,” Isabel replied quickly. She reached for the laptop and tapped a few times on the touchscreen, before turning it the screen so the rest of the group could see it.

The each stared at the screen briefly, which showed a quick recap of Stanley’s statistics in the bullpen as well as his time as a starter. It showed a 2.63 ERA as a reliever during April and May. A 3.68 ERA as a starter during June and July.

The waitress arrived with their meals, and Isabel gently closed the laptop from the possibility of prying eyes. The conversation stalled while the waitress served them. As soon as the waitress had walked away, the Calzones GM spoke again.

“Taizo,” he said, looking at the Calzones manager, “will it work?”

“Steamer want to start,” replied the Calzones manager, “but he is team player. Taizo convince him to go back to bullpen and Taizo make him star.”

Isabel couldn’t help but giggle at her bosses ego as well as his manner of speaking.

“Show of hands,” said the Calzones Gm.

Each hand at the table went up without hesitation.

“Mayberry is calling back at precisely 7:47 PM,” said the Calzones GM. He took a bite of his meal and glanced around the table.

“We need the paperwork ready to be faxed to the league office,” he said, looking at Isabel.

She nodded in agreement. She held up a finger to pause the conversation while she finished swallowing part of her meal.

“I’ll have it ready,” she finally answered. “And I will have my Mom set up the travel arrangements to send our guy out west.”

“Remember,” replied the Calzones Gm, “no leaks.”

The group ate quietly for a moment before the GM spoke up again.

“Other business,” he said. “We haven’t gotten any word from Canton yet. He wanted MacKinney. Duane, are we still good with that?”

“I’m good with it,” replied Duane. “But I’m worried they might not have gotten our reply.”

“Well,” replied the Calzones Gm, “I think our pen is okay as it is. Would be nice to juice it up a bit for the stretch run, but if it doesn’t happen it doesn’t happen. Héctor, where are we with Palm Springs?”

“Doubtful boss,” replied the Calzones Head Scout. “He’s rebuilding. I don’t think we have the right pieces to offer. In his situation, I am not so sure I would do a deal like we offered.”

“Makes sense,” replied the Calzones GM. “But didn’t hurt to try.”

“How about Debesa?” asked Isabel, looking directly at the Calzones GM.

“Struck out there kid,” he replied. “After he dumped Swedlove he felt like Debesa would save his season or something.”

“Odd we couldn’t get anything done there,” replied Isabel. “Debesa is a platoon bat at best. Short side of the platoon at that. Can’t hit right handed pitching to save his life. You would figure in a lost season with a rebuild underway he would move him and make room for some of his kids. Get a couple of pieces that could help longer term. Debesa has a shelf life of what, two more seasons, maybe?”

“Don’t know what to tell you kid,” replied the Calzones GM. “He doesn’t analyze things the same as you or I. If I’m rebuilding, I dump the guy and let the kids play. But that’s his call, not ours.”

“We’ll get the same thing out of Anderson that we would have gotten out of Debesa,” said Duane as he looked up from his meal, trying to reassure Isabel.

“I guess so,” replied Isabel.

The group continued on quietly with their meal for several minutes, generally lost in their own thoughts, knowing that the conversation would likely continue after they had all concluded eating.

“Oh, this should be good,” said Isabel excitedly as she stared out the window of the restaurant. The others noticed her gaze and turned to look in that direction as well.

“Dios Mio!!” exclaimed Héctor.

“What’s the bid deal?” asked Duane. “Just a couple having a disagreement.”

“Oh, you haven’t ever seen a hispanic woman pissed off, have you?” she asked Duane.

“Not that I remember,” he replied.

“Watch and learn,” the Calzones GM replied with a serious tone. “In Laredo, your life could depend upon it.”

They all continued to watch out the window as the couple had a heated conversation. Duane had noticed that most of the other patrons in the restaurant were now also staring at the scene in the parking lot. Isabel began to narrate.

“Notice her open stance,” she began. “Hands at her sides, palms open. Popping her gum. This is the guys one chance to explain.”

They watched the scene unfold as the young hispanic woman listened to the young man, who motioned with his hands and made what appeared to be pleading like movements with his head.

“He’s toast,” said Isabel.

“Why?” asked Duane.

“She just crossed her arms”, replied Isabel. “He blew his one chance at explaining. She’s not buying it. Anything he says from this point on will be used against him. He’s just digging a hole.”

“Girl right,” interjected Taizo, the Calzones manager. “Boy should lean on sword now.”
Héctor was staring out the window, and apparently whispering a prayer.

“Why is Héctor praying?” asked Duane.

“So God may have mercy on the boys soul,” replied Isabel. “Because she certainly won’t.”

“How do you know that?” asked Duane.

“The gum. She’s not popping it anymore,” replied Isabel.

“Oh-kay,” said Duane, still not sure what to make of the scene he was witnessing.
Héctor covered his eyes. “DIOS MIO!!” he exclaimed again as if having a bad flashback.

“The foot is tapping” said Isabel matter of factly, continuing the narration.

Hector covered his eyes.

“Oh yeah, this is bad,” said the Calzones GM.

“What is so bad about the foot tapping?” asked Duane.

“It’s like the rattlesnake’s rattle,” replied Isabel. “When she starts tapping the foot, it’s the warning. If you know what’s good for you, you back up.”

“Her arms are still crossed,” Duane noted.

“He’ll never see it coming!!!” exclaimed Héctor, still covering his eyes.

“Somebody better get an icebag ready,” noted the Calzones GM.

The group continued watching the scene in the parking lot. The young male continued to plead his case, while the young female stared stone faced, arms crossed, foot tapping.

“OHHHHHH!!!!” exclaimed about half the restaurant nearly simultaneously. In the blink of an eye, the young female had unleashed a wicked slap to the young man’s face. As the initial reaction wore off, a few laughs could be heard in the restaurant.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” said Isabel.

“Ouch,” said Duane as he watched the girl storm off while the young man stood rubbing his jaw, wondering what had just happened.

“Right hand,” noted Isabel.

“And that means?” asked Duane.

“She meant it,” replied Isabel. “If she had used the left, it would have been a love tap, she was just a little upset. Right hand, that’s meant to do damage, she’s really pissed.”

“Okay,” noted Duane. “Foot stops tapping, watch for the right cross to the jaw. Got it.”

Duane watched as the boy walked off solemnly in the opposite direction.

“And I take it this is pretty standard in Laredo?” asked Duane.

“Pretty much,” replied Isabel. “Laredo women all have a little chola in them.”

Duane looked over at the Calzones GM and asked “Really?”

“Like she said, pretty much,” replied the GM. “That’s what they call love in Laredo.”

“Damn,” replied Duane. “Anyplace else they call that assault.”

Duane looked back over at Isabel.

“So,” said Duane, “if this scene plays out over and over and everyone knows it’s gonna happen, why don’t the men figure it out?”

“You really have to ask that?” laughed Isabel. “Because men are inherently stupid.”

“That’s a little harsh,” replied Duane.

“I have to agree with Duane,” replied the Calzones GM. “We’re not all stupid.”

“Yes, you are,” replied Isabel. “I’ll prove it. When was the last time either of you won an argument with a wife or girlfriend?”

“Just last night,” replied the Calzones GM.

“Oh, you poor soul,” replied Isabel. “You are even more stupid than I give you credit for. And believe me, I give you a lot of credit for being stupid.”

“Whatever,” replied the Calzones GM, brushing off her comments.

“You NEVER win an argument with a woman,” replied Isabel. “You only think you won. Because you men are foolish enough to believe that winning an argument with a woman is possible. But it’s not. You may gain temporary satisfaction, but you’ll pay. Oh, will you pay.”

“Whatever,” the Calzones GM replied again. “I know who the boss is in my house.”

“You won the argument last night?” asked Isabel.

“Yes,” replied the Calzones GM.

“Several hours later you got ready for bed,” said Isabel. “Your wife acted as if everything was fine. When you took off your pants and were about to climb into bed, she mentioned that she forgot to lock the kitchen door.”

The Calzones GM began to stare intently at the young girl.

“How would you know that?” he asked sternly.

“And when you came back into the bedroom,” Isabel continued, “your wife smiled and kissed you good night and acted as if nothing was wrong.”

The Calzones GM was somewhat spooked by the knowledge the young girl had of his personal life.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with anything?” he asked, somewhat flustered.

“Check your wallet,” the young girl replied. “She’s getting payback.”

The Calzones GM pulled out his wallet and began thumbing through it, then again, and again, as if something was missing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone and punched a number.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?” she asked. “Your credit card, I mean. It’s gone right? It was in her pocket before you ever went to sleep last night.”

The GM stared at the young girl suspiciously. He held up a finger as he spoke into the phone.

“Honey, please call me back. It’s important.”

He closed the cell phone and stared again at the young assistant, who stared back with a knowing smile on her face.

“She’ll send you a text in a couple of minutes,” Isabel said bluntly. “It will say ‘shopping, call you in a bit, love you baby’.”

“How do you know she is shopping?” the GM asked. “Maybe I just misplaced the card.”

“Your screwed,” noted Duane. Taizo and Héctor nodded in agreement.

“I know my wife, she wouldn’t do that,” said the GM, rather unconvincingly. He was apparently trying to convince himself of that, while a cloud of doom seemed to descend over him.

“Payback,” said Isabel. “You guys don’t get it. You don’t win an argument with us women.”

The GM’s phone buzzed. He opened and looked at the new text message. He stared at the young girl. He looked again at the message.

“What’s it say?” asked Isabel.

He showed her the message. Isabel laughed as hard as she had ever laughed.

“She’s at the mall,” said Isabel. “The ‘love you baby’ bit is great, isn’t it?” said Isabel. “Meant to keep you from being mad while she spends you into the poor house. Your going to need a second job.”

The GM stood up from his chair and bolted from the restaurant, as the group at the table watched him run through the parking lot, in the direction of the Mall Del Norte, which was on the opposite side of interstate 35.

“Is he stupid enough to try to run across the interestate?” asked Duane.

“Oh yeah, and desperate enough too,” noted Isabel.
Héctor took out his cell phone.

“Quick first step, explosive speed for a guy his age. Too bad he can’t play centerfield,” joked Héctor.

“Who you calling?” asked Duane, as they watched the GM make it into the middle of San Bernardo Avenue.

“911” replied Héctor matter of factly.

And as if on cue, a loud screech of brakes could be heard coming from the direction of the street. Followed by the sight of the GM flying 30 feet through the air like a ragdoll .

The group each looked at one another, but no one moved.

“Is anyone going to go check him?” asked Duane finally.

“Jackass traded Murdock,” replied Héctor. “Screw him.”

“Jackass traded Hayseed,” noted Taizo. “Screw him.”

Duane looked at Isabel.

“Don’t look at me,” said Isabel. “Jackass traded Pexego. Screw him. What about you?”

“Oh hell no,” replied Duane. “I didn’t have a draft pick until the 6^th round. Screw him.”

They watched a crowd gather near the middle of the road, where the GM lay motionless in the middle of the avenue. Isabel opened the laptop. Duane looked over at her curiously.

Isabel noticed his glance. She smiled like a cat who had eaten the canary.

“What, pray tell, could you be doing on the computer at a time like this?” asked Duane.
“Itching powder,” replied Isabel. “If the jackass isn’t dead, he’s going to be in a full body cast.”

The three men at the table laughed along with Isabel.

“Girl evil”, noted Taizo.

“Yes. Yes I am,” replied Isabel smugly.

“So,” said Duane, “how did you know his wife was shopping?”

“Easy,” replied Isabel. “It’s the quickest way to get back at a man who has pissed you off. And when a man is stupid enough to think they can win an argument with a woman, it pisses us off.”

“You seem to have a low opinion of men for such a young girl,” noted Duane.

“My mom and my aunts taught me well,” said Isabel.

“I guess so,” replied Duane.

“I need to know what you know,” said the elderly Héctor, staring at the young girl. “40 years married, and my wife is never happy.”

“Yeah,” said Duane, “you seem to have some insights here. Spill it.”

“Girl wise,” said Taizo. “Teach us.”

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” said Isabel. “The basics. As you just saw, you never win an argument with a woman. Ever. Oh, we will let you think you won, but it’s only a delusion in your mind that you won. Because you’ll pay. Oh, believe me, you will pay.”

The men nodded knowingly, as if the skies had opened up and light was breaking through the fog of their male minds.

“Next,” said Isabel. “Everything is a setup. It’s just that you men aren’t smart enough to see that it’s a setup.”

“What do you mean?” asked Duane. “Explain.”

“Okay,” said Isabel, “your having a discussion, you ask a question, and your woman says ‘it’s up to you’. Or ‘use your own judgment’. It’s a trap. Woman know that men like to make decisions. So we let them. Only we know you will make the wrong decision. And then we can use it against you.”

“So what’s the right answer?” asked Héctor.

“There is no right answer, silly” replied the young girl. “No matter what you do, it’s wrong.”

“I don’t get it” said Duane. “There has to be a right choice.”

“Nope,” replied Isabel bluntly. “The woman is giving you the rope to hang yourself. And you men are more than willing to build your own gallows. No matter what you do, it’s being written to disk, and will be retrieved later when your woman is ready to use it against you.”

“So what to do when faced with making a decision?” asked Taizo.

“Curl up in the fetal position and cry like a baby,” replied Isabel. “At least that might get you a little mercy.”

“I don’t get the part about there not being a right decision,” said Duane. “There must…I mean…that’s not fair.”

“Fair?” laughed Isabel. “You still don’t get it. Your a toy. A chew toy. Occasionally we want you around to play with, but mostly you men are just in the way and a nuisance. The only two things we trust you to do right are check the oil and scratch yourselves.”

Isabel took a breath, and looked around at the three men.

“Your woman asks you to do something, say maybe to help with the dishes or to do a load of laundry. What do you do?” she asks.

“I help whenever asked,” replied Duane.

“You poor fool,” replied Isabel. “It’s another trap.”

“A trap?” asked Héctor.

“Yes, everything is a trap,” replied Isabel. “What did I just say? We trust you to do nothing right except check the oil and scratch yourselves. If your asked to do something, your going to screw it up, and she is going to hold it against you, to be used against you at a later date.”

“What if we do it right?” asked Duane. “I know how to do the dishes. I do a good job.”

“No, no you don’t,” said Isabel. “Every dish can be spotless, and in her mind, it’s all wrong.”

“But there must be a right way,” said Duane.

“Okay, I can see we have a slow learner here,” replied Isabel. “What did I just say?”

“Check the oil and scratch ourselves?” replied Duane.

“Now your getting it,” replied Isabel. “So when your lady asks you to take out the garbage, what are you going to do?”

“Check the oil and scratch myself?” said Duane.

“Now your getting it,” replied the young girl. “Hold that thought, I need to make a call.”

She took out her cellphone and motioned towards the street, where the GM’s limp body was now on a stretcher being loaded into an ambulance.

“Mrs.Higgins? Hi, it’s Isabel,” she said into the phone. “I’m just calling to let you know your husband has been in accident, they are taking him to Doctor’s Hospital.”

There was a pause.

“Clean underwear?” asked the young girl in a surprised voice. “I wouldn’t know, but if they were they’re not now.”

Another short pause.

“Okay, just thought I would let you know. Talk to you later, bye.”

Isabel looked at Duane.

“She said he traded Hendricks. Screw him.”

Duane laughed and then looked at Isabel sort of with a quizzical look on his face.

“Clean underwear?” he asked.

“It’s a mother thing,” replied Isabel.

“Yeah, I’ve never quite gotten that one,” replied Duane. “Like you told her, their not clean now.”

Isabel laughed.

“No, that they are not. It’s sort of a mother thing I guess,” she said. “By the time you are old enough to be married, it’s impossible to train you men, so we try to do it while your little, starting with the clean underwear thing. It’s sort of a pay it forward deal I guess. But it doesn’t really work. You all still grow up to be men.”

“It sounds like you women really don’t think much of us,” said Duane. “Yet, we’re the ones who run things. We run the businesses. We run the country.”

“Oh, you want to go there do you?” asked Isabel. “You think you men have done such a great job of running the country? Then why are we $23 trillion dollars in debt?”

“You think you women could balance the budget?” asked Duane.

“Oh, PLEASE!!” said Isabel. “Elect 500 women to congress, tell them there’s a new pair of pumps in the deal if they balance the budget, and they’ll have it fixed by lunch time.”

Duane rolled his eyes.

“You really think so?” he asked.

“Oh, hell yeah,” said Isabel. “And every child will be fed and wearing clean underwear at the end of the day.”
Taizo looked at his watch, and then motioned to the young assistant.

“Taizo go,” he told her as he stood up.

“You learn anything today?” she asked the team’s manager.

“Check oil. Scratch self,” replied Taizo.

Isabel smiled.

“Quick learner,” she said to him. “See you later,” she said as he bowed slightly before departing.

“I need to go too,” said Héctor. “Meeting with scouting department later. Who is going to take the phone call from Mayberry?”

“We’ll handle it,” replied Duane.

“We?” asked Isabel.

“We,” replied Duane. “Someone is going to have to talk to Mayberry, and one of us has to inform Snow.”

“Oh, yeah, Snow,” replied Isabel. “Where is he anyway?”

“Don’t rightly know,” replied Duane. “But I’ll get him on the cell phone later. You can handle the call with Mayberry.”

“Me?” asked Isabel.

“Yes, you,” Héctor interjected. “Mayberry is in a fragile state. We don’t want to spook him. The soothing voice of an innocent girl is just what we need here.”

“Okay, if you say so,” replied Isabel.
Héctor began to walk away, then turned back to look at Isabel.

“Don’t blow it kid,” he said as he reached the door, and then he was gone.

“Guess we should get back as well,” said Duane as he began to stand up.

“Learn anything today?” asked Isabel.

“Foot stops tapping, watch for the right cross,” replied Duane.

“What else?” asked Isabel as they made their way to the front to pay the check.

“Check the oil and scratch myself,” replied Duane.

“Now your getting it,” replied Isabel.
Check the oil and scratch myself.
Check the oil and scratch myself.

Duane repeated it in his mind again for good measure.

Check the oil and scratch myself.

Duane smiled to himself, happy in his new found knowledge.

Check the oil and scratch myself.

I got this, he said to himself proudly as they made their departure.