Byline: Max Offen Sichtlich
Off Topic
Camacho Pushes His Agenda
October 28, 2055
Carlos Camacho appears at the desk of Ron Collins, startling him just as he’s sipping his Starbucks, and causing Collins to spill it down his shirt.
“Sorry, Boss,” Camacho says, dabbing a napkin at Collins’s garment. “But don’t worry, that stain improves your fashion a hundredfold.”
Calming, Collins settles back. He’s been scanning quotes on potential changes to the ball field. “What is it?” he says.
“It’s Tsuyoshi,” Camacho replies. “I think we should resign him.”
“That sounds great, but it seems to me that he wants a lot of money for a platoon third baseman.”
Camacho rolls his eyes. “He’s a winner.”
Collins checks the VR feed of his sports news broadcaster. “I’d say the results with Twin Cities begs to differ.
“It’s not his fault you twisted the manager’s arm to start the other guy. Suzuki is the guy who made the big error that started the slide.”
“I’m not blaming Suzuki.”
Camacho remained impassive.
“Regardless,” Collins finally said. “I can’t see fitting Kobayashi into the budget or the cap.”
Camacho seems unperturbed. “We should also resign Todd Rice.”
“That sounds good, too, but it seems to me that he wants a lot of money for a guy who is going to be six hundred and fifty-two next year.”
“He will only be 37.”
Collins dismisses the comment. “Might as well be six hundred and fifty-two.”
Camacho is silent, and seems to be staring down Collins, but nothing happens for several moments. Finally, Camacho blinks, and the blood runs out of his face. “You’re stronger than you were,” he whispers with a tone of disappointment. “Perhaps the curse is real.”
“What do you mean?” Collins replies. “I don’t understand.”
Camacho mutters a brief curse, then sets his expression in stone. “I’m going to have to tell the green-eyed woman this.”
Then he was gone, leaving Collins alone to go back to the architectural plans he has on the desk. The season is over. Time to pick up the pieces and do it all over again.