This entry posted by Twayn, on assignment for Bat-girl.com

Cleveland at Minnesota. Indians 7, Twins 3.

Gardy’s office was a bit cramped after the grueling 12-inning tilt, with Wayne Hattaway, Justin Morneau, Joe Mauer, Michael Cuddyer, Jason Bartlett, Torii Hunter, and Nick Punto seated on folding chairs around the desk. Nobody spoke, each thinking back on the game and the many chances that slipped away like sands through an hourglass, and how that is so like the days of our lives, and why you should seize every opportunity to do good and battle evil because if you don’t that day is gone and you don’t get another until the cosmos flips the hourglass over again. The door closed with an ominous thud as Gardy came in and took a seat behind his desk. He paused a moment, as if he had second thoughts about the meeting, then shrugged his shoulders and spoke.

“Look, guys,” he began, “I don’t know why I have to keep explaining this to you. We expect more out of you; you’re the leaders. You’re the Team Batgirl Boyfriends, and a lot of people look forward to reading about which one of you is the Boyfriend of the Day every day and what incredibly good thing you did to help win the game. You know that, right?”

He looked around and met the eyes of each player momentarily. They all nodded their heads and furrowed their brows and pursed their lips in serious thought as they pondered the infinite privilege and responsibility the title Team Batgirl Boyfriend bestows.

Gardy paused for dramatic effect, to let the severity of the situation resonate, just like Howie Mandel on Deal or No Deal, only without all of the models with perfect teeth and short dresses, since his office is so small and Carl Pohlad isn’t likely to pay for models with perfect teeth and short dresses to decorate Gardy’s office. So after a dramatically sufficient moment, Gardy continued.

“You guys are the Team Batgirl Boyfriends, but look at you,” he said. “You lollygag a weak swing for strike three with runners in scoring position. You lollygag into rally killing double plays. You know what that makes you? Big Fella?”

“Lollygaggers!” exclaimed Hattaway, his half-smile obscured by wild moustache.

“Lollygaggers,” said Gardy, barely stifling his own urge to laugh. “What’s our record, Big Fella?

“Eleven and eight,” said Hattaway.

“Eleven and eight!” said Gardy, shaking his head in mock disgust. “How did we get there?”

“It’s a miracle,” said Big Fella, his eyes sparkling with subdued mirth.

“It’s a miracle,” repeated Gardy. “Now get your showers and go home. But I want you to think long and hard about all the chances we had tonight, all the ways any one of you could have stepped up to be the Boyfriend of the Day. Think about Team Batgirl and how they have to go to bed tonight without a B.O.D., and how Baby Dash may still have to learn at such a tender young age about the bitterness of early disappointment that can only be assuaged by the sweetness of eventual triumph against seemingly insurmountable odds, but which then gets crushed again by a disappointing postseason performance. And remember that the idea is for each of you to inspire the others to greatness in clutch situations so that we don’t get beat by a nondescript lefty named Jeremy and a bullpen coached by Wet-Ones Willis.”

The players filed out of the office, their heads only slightly down, their shoulders square and their gazes determined, already inspired to not let another single grain of sand slip through the narrow channel of glass that regulates the days of our lives without doing something inspiring to inspire the others to Boyfriend greatness. Big Fella stood, crossed the room, and closed the door behind them before turning to Gardy and pausing for dramatic effect.

“You know, Skip,” said the wizened gent slowly, his smile widening. “Sometimes they don’t know when you’re being serious and when you’re not.”

Gardy returned his conspiratorial grin as he swung his feet up onto the desk.

“It’s not important for them to know, Big Fella,” he said. “It’s only important for me to know. Now go tell Andy to bring in the bullpen.”

Posted by twayn at April 23, 2007 11:59 PM