"We're the Chicago White Sox, dammit! We never sell!"* you exclaim while angrily throwing an urn of coffee at an intern. You look up at the big board, combing it for names. The fans have been screaming for changes in the outfield damn near all season. Yes, you think whilst pensively stroking your mustache, we could always use more outfielders!
You look down from the board for a moment, noticing the lifeless intern being dragged towards the incinerator in the back of the room. You thank Ron Kittle and Carlos May for their help in the matter.
"May we leave and see our families?" Carlos May foolishly asks.
"As soon as Juan Pierre wins that Gold Glove!" you cackle maniacally as Ron Kittle turns away in a vain attempt to hide his tears. "There is trading afoot!"
Click here to trade for an outfielder.
Click here to trade for a relief pitcher.
Yup, these are your only two options. You're Kenny Williams.
*The year 1997 officially never happened at 35th and Shields.