And I would very much like to throttle her right now.
All because of the emails we’re using to communicate since neither of us wants to be face-to-face.
From: Lila Valentine <[email protected]>
To: Tripp Wilson <[email protected]>
Subject: Ducks
Mr. Wilson,
Seeing as the ducks have become so popular with the locals, I’ve arranged for a giant duck mascot to replace the Fireballs dragon. Delivery of the costume is scheduled for Tuesday. Please assemble as many players as possible for a photo shoot on the field by next Friday.
Sincerely,
L. Valentine
Owner, Fireballs Organization
From: Tripp Wilson
To: Lila Valentine
Subject: Re: Ducks
Lila,
Fiery the Dragon is an institution in Copper Valley. Capitalizing on the duck craze is fine. Replacing Fiery will cause riots and looting. I’ve consulted with the local police and FBI offices, and they agree. In the interest of public safety, Fiery stays.
That said, I’m sure the PR department can arrange a photo shoot for fun with a duck and whoever’s still in town. We can also keep the duck to participate in between-innings entertainment. Fun is what the game is about. Good call.
Respectfully,
T. Wilson
#1 Fireballs Fan and Team President
From: Lila Valentine
To: Tripp Wilson
Subject: Re: Re: Ducks
Mr. Wilson,
I sincerely doubt the authorities are concerned about the Fireballs’ current seven or eight fans staging a coup over a new mascot. The duck stays. Community involvement is key in rebuilding a fan base, so we’ll host events to meet the duck and name him.
Related - I’ll need a list of Copper Valley’s most famous residents by close of business today. We’ll need back-up plans because I’m not naming the duck Quack, no matter how many people suggest it. Surely we can be more creative than that.
Sincerely,
L. Valentine
She Who Makes The Final Call
From: Tripp Wilson
To: Lila Valentine
Subject: Copper Valley’s Most Famous Residents
Levi Wilson
Cash Rivers
Beck Ryder
Davis Remington
Tripp Wilson
Perhaps you should just call him Duck Code. That would be simpler than picking which of us is the head duck, and which are the ducklings. Levi would get a big head over Levi Duckson, and Duckett Ryder just sounds weird. Though I could get on board with Davis Quackington.
Also, if you insist on changing the mascot, you’re far better off taking a poll on what the new mascot should BE rather than dictating it to people who are VERY attached to Fiery the Dragon.
Respectfully,
#5
But still #1 in love of the team
From: Fireballs Media Relations <[email protected]>
To: Tripp Wilson
BCC: <Fireballs Media Contact List>
Subject: Fireballs Mascot Competition
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
As of this morning, Fiery the Dragon is on emergency medical leave for a heart condition following the epic disaster of the last three baseball seasons in Copper Valley, with an expected retirement to follow treatment. As such, the Fireballs are in need of a new mascot. Suggestions and nominations may be submitted through November 15 at Fireballsfamily.com/mascot
The Fireballs organization thanks Fiery for his many years of dedicated service and wishes him well in all of his future endeavors.
Questions may be directed to Tripp Wilson, Fireballs President of Operations.
Yep. I’m going to throttle her.
I’m a zero-inbox kind of guy. The hundreds of messages pouring into my email since her press release went out Wednesday afternoon—from everyone from the staff members who’ve donned the Fiery costume to the press to other baseball team owners and administrators to angry fans age seven to ninety-seven—have me about ready to pull my hair out.
She’s caused at least a hundred new gray hairs to sprout in under a week, and I don’t want to see her.
Not that I have any confidence she’s coming to tonight’s cookout.
She could probably read between the lines of the last email I sent her before I left the office today.
From: Tripp Wilson
To: Lila Valentine
Subject: Ribs and s’mores
Lila,
Hope you’re able to make it to the cookout tonight. I’ll bring the ducks. You should bring a coat. And probably armor plating with the questions you’ll get about murdering Fiery. Forecast is chilly. Address is below.
-T
The weather forecast is sixty-five and sunny.
The mood forecast is she’s going to get eaten alive.
And now, at the Ryders’ house on our old block, with the backyard lit by floodlights and strung with fake spiderwebs and orange Halloween lights, Mom, the Ryders, and Mrs. Rivers are all bustling about smoking ribs and finishing baked beans and setting out potato salad while my kids run around with Beck.
And Davis is talking me off a ledge.
“I don’t even know why she wants the team,” I grit out.
“But murder’s still illegal.” He tips his beer back—Buried Treasure Ale from the brewery in Shipwreck—and just when I think that’s all he has to say on the subject, he flicks another glance at me. “Fiery can make a miraculous recovery. That’s the only thing she’s done wrong. Everything else needed doin’, and you know it.”
“Not all at once.”
“Why not all at once?”
“Rushed hires don’t make good hires.”
“So don’t rush it.”
“We need—”
“A team manager. You need a manager and a medical staff. So you don’t have a batting coach day one. The team will either step up, or you replace the lot of them with the minor league team down in Corieville.”
“You want a massacre?”
“Won’t be any worse than this season. But you bring in new blood, that’s new hope. And those guys—they’ll be eager to prove they can do what last year’s team couldn’t.”
I sink back in the lawn chair. “You know our scouting sucks.” Which is one more thing I need to fix.
“You know you could get five minor-leaguers on the verge of being ready to break out for two Cooper Rocks.”
“Rock could be a dumpster fire on the field and we’d keep him for how much he loves the team. Bonus that he’s actually damn good.”