FanPost

SATIRE: The Bunker -- The manager search gets weird

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seeing the field oh so clearly

Laura Day, Twins' Executive Vice President in charge of Business Development walks a long windowless hallway beneath sparse banks of old florescent lights, her footsteps echoing in a way that suggests the subterranean. With only the occasional custodian's closet, or inset fire-extinguisher, the hallway seems a tunnel. It is. She comes to the end of her walk and faces a broad steel door painted the the baby blue of a 1977 Twins uniform. She knocks twice and the sound booms surreally. The sound of several bolts sliding and clicking and then with a hush the door ponderously opens on a scene of opulence akin to something from Gatsby's mansion.

Seated on overstuffed leather armchairs are Jim Pohlad and Dave St. Peter. Terry Ryan and Rob Anthony perch uncomfortably on the front of their chairs holding snifters of brandy as though they are small yippy dogs, not to be trusted. Bill Smith, dressed in a butler's uniform escorts her to her chair, then stands at the ready near a wet bar stocked with 50 or 60 bottles.

Day: Hello, Jim. Gentlemen. (She nods, not respectfully, to the other three). Billy, pour me a sturdy dram of absinthe.

Smith: As you wish, Miss Day.

Pohlad: Thanks for coming down, Laura. We are in a bit of a quandary with the Manager vacancy, and you know I always like to keep the business angles covered. (A smirk starts on Anthony's face but a short shake from Ryan and it instantly disappears). Arizona snatching up Chip takes away the easy answer. I don't quite know which way to turn.

Day: (Taking a small glass from the tray that Smith proffers.) Of course you don't, Jim. When the fans stopped filling the publicly funded park, it made for challenges to the business that you couldn't have forseen. That's why you have me.

Ryan: I'd like to say --

St. Peter: Wait your turn, Terry. The lady isn't finished.

Day: (Silently fixes Ryan with a stare, then turns back to Pohlad) I suppose Molitor is the popular choice in the short run, but he's dangerous to the business. He has zero experience as a manager. If he fails to make big improvements in the next two years we will be seen as an unfixable organization. Think Kansas City 1995-2010. If he succeeds, that may be worse. He may become expensive. And look what becoming rich has done to Mauer. For his own sake, he shouldn't be allowed to succeed.

Pohlad: That's very thoughtful advice, Laura. And compassionate.

Day: It's just good business to take care of your people, Jim.

Pohlad: Well, what about Mint . . . Mienk . . . Miten . . . Dougie M?

Ryan: His record at --

Day: Terry! Jim was talking to me. (She let's the silence hang in the air for a few seconds.) Mientkiewicz seems like a good choice. But is he going to sell tickets? And who would develop the young talent? The man has talent, but maybe not major league talent. If you want to take a risk, at least make it a bold risk. Again, if he fails, it will look like you lacked foresight, Jim. Hired the easy, company-man.

Pohlad: What do you think Dave?

Ryan: But I wanted to --

Pohlad: Terry. Show some class.

St. Peter: I hadn't thought of it that way, Jim, but Laura's right. The obvious answers are both wrong. We have to look beyond to obvious. That much is obvious.

Pohlad: Yeah. . . Yeah, she's right.

Day: Well, of course I'm right. Billy -- again.

Smith: As you wish, Miss Day.

Ryan: (Irate) You aren't leaving many options, are you, Laura. Whaddya wanna do, hire Ozzie?

Anthony: No, boss. Don't even kid about that!

Day: It would be interesting, and probably drive ticket sales up. If we win, fine. If we lose, people will want to come to the park just to boo Ozzie. But it isn't really a long term solution, and would probably be expensive.

Ryan: I tell you who I think --

Pohlad: Not yet, Terry

Anthony: You gotta listen to him! He's the best baseball mind we have!

Day: Four consecutive 90 loss seasons don't agree. I didn't come here to be talked over.

Ryan: But I --

Day: OK! Who is leaving, me or him?

Ryan: No, but I --

Pohlad: Terry, why don't you and Rob go back to your offices. I'll send you an email when we finish here.

Ryan: . . . But . . . you haven't even . . . (Stands with an exasperated sigh, and heads to the door, Anthony at his heels.) Fine. . . FINE! Why don't you just make HER manager? (He tries to slam the door, but it just closes with a solid "clunk". Pohlad and St. Peter look at each other while Day gets her drink from the tray Smith brings.)

Day: (Seeing the two men eying her thoughtfully.) Me? Ha! That would certainly get some attention! And it isn't like I couldn't do it. But seriously. I don't think I'm the right choice. But I know who is . . .

St. Peter: Do tell.

Day: Well, he's already under contract. He knows all the players. And he owes the organization, because he shirked a couple months of work this spring for medical reasons.

Pohlad: But . . . I thought you hated Terry.

Day: Hate is such a cruel word. I just want to foist a rudderless team with a horrible pitching staff and a highly paid, recently underperforming star player on a man whose recent bout with cancer earns the team some sympathy points.

Pohlad: It would give us some time to develop those pitchers.

Day: The Timberwolves have already trailblazed for us.

St. Peter: That's . . . that's . . .

Day: "Genius"?

St. Peter: I was thinking "Machiavellian".

Day: Yeah, well. (She sips her absinthe.) Same thing.