The sun creeps through the window pane late in October and the Senior Citizen Jew in the High Castle counts his pennies and lays his plans for the hopes, dreams and expectations of his embittered fan-base.  Dressed to the nines and sitting to his right in Branch Rickey’s former leather recliner; is a well-educated golden-child, the product of horse thieves and cowry-shell usurers fucking and dividing throughout the centuries.

"Junior Felix is on the market this year right?  He has always been a good ball player."

"I believe he retired in 1994."

"Well who compares well to Junior Felix?"

"Mark Teahen."

"Let’s get him."

"He played for us sparingly last season and if not for his finger injury could have been somewhat useful."

"Oh.  Reed Johnson?"

"He is going to Japan."

"Marvin Benard?"

"He is in the Giants minor leagues…hitting instructor."

"Do we have one of those?"

"Greg Walker."

"Fine.  We’ll settle on Craig Monroe."

"He can be had on the cheap, he didn’t play last year."

"Give him a couple million, he can’t refuse."

"Done."

"Moving on. what’re we going to do with Pauly."

A dark cloud moves over the city and a cold pre-November rain drizzles onto thousands of umbrellas.  The air smells of West’s decay.  As an anonymous blogger buried his body next to Jimmy Hoffa's...in the Metra rail embankment near US Cellular Field. 

"His hip is no good…It is time for life after Pauly."

"Can we trade him?"

"His contract is up."

"Oh, I was thinking perhaps Morneau."

"Morneau retired."

"Then just let him go, no one needs an aging firstbaseman...Does anyone?"

"Nope. Done."

"Who is going to play in his stead, any ideas?"

"I was thinking Teahen."

"What did he play last year?"

"Thirdbase I think."

"Ok well keep him there, the fella with the inbred eyes isn’t there?"

"He is second now I think."

"Hmmmm…"

"I have been watching Jay Gibbons since 2005.  He could be like a Dyeish pickup."

"He has orange hair, doesn’t he?"

"I thought strawberry blonde?"

"Daryl is not blonde.  Forget it."

"Johnny Gomes?"

"Now we’re talking."

 The power goes out on the Southside.  They light the candelabra…

"Catcher?"

"AJ is moving along."

"What has he done for us lately?"

"Not much."

"Who’re you thinking?"

"Lo Duca"

"Too many ducats.  Alomar around?"

"Sipping cocktails at the Rogers Centre."

"No the other one."

"Knee replacement."

"I had a hip replaced."

"Greg Zaun."

"Sounds like a good family."

"Then…"

"Sure."

 The clouds open up and the Four Horseman appear and glide through the sky toward Michigan Street slaying consumers by the hundreds.  The streets of Chicago are flowing with the blood of infidels.

"Will Jenks shave his beard?"

"No.  He won’t."

"Non-tender.  Sign Manny for DH he puts fannys in the seats.  Any ideas for closer?"

"Not really.  Beane says it is the least important position."

"Freddy?"

"He wants to start."

"Let him."

"How about we get Isringhausen and sew Urbina’s sixth finger on his left hand?"

"A modern Prometheus?"

"Fetters it is."

"No lets go Dave Veres."

"I’ll have to disagree."

"Rocker?"

"Nope."

"Call Ozzie."

While they rotary dialed their manager, to get his advice, a group of Trustafarians bombed the Police Haymarket Riot Memorial again and sadly several Chicago PD and GD were killed.  Should have left the damned thing by the Kennedy.  Ibis put them on hold for several minutes.  When Ozzie finally got on it sounded like he was in the bath.

"While we’re waiting what about Schooler or Landrum"

"Nope."

"Hey OZ baby!  We need some advice  Who do you want closing?"

"B.A."

"Done."

 The sky snowed heavy ash.