The Christmas season means it's time for Christmas Carols and Christmas stories. One of my personal favorites has always been Charles' Dickens A Christmas Carol. This is part two of Bud Selig's Christmas Carol. Click here to read Stave One.
Selig sat in his box, staring at the field.The clouds rolled in all around the field. "When the rain begins to fall." He could still hear the ghost's words. The game soon started, but Selig was paying it little mind. He kept looking at the sky, trying to pierce it with his eyes, as if perhaps that would stop the rain from coming. The game rolled on in front of him in a surreal fashion as Selig sat and thought and thought and thought it over and could make nothing of it. He tried not to think about it, and that made him think more. Schott's ghost bothered him exceedingly. Was it a dream? He had no idea. Suddenly, a small dot, like a pinhead, appeared on the window of his suite. A drop of rain had fallen. Selig swiveled in his chair to survey the room.
"A drop of rain," said Selig triumphantly, "And nothing more!"
Light instantly flooded the room. The door to the seating area of his suite was drawn open, I tell you, by a hand. Selig shot up from out of his chair and found himself face-to-face with a small child-like figure. Though the figure was certainly unearthly, he appeared to be a boy of no more than seven. He wore overalls with a baseball glove jammed into his back pocket. He carried a bat in his right hand, which he rested lazily on his shoulder.
"Are you the spirit Marge said would come to me?"
"I am." The spirit's voice was low and very childlike.
"Who, or rather what, are you?"
"I am the Ghost of World Series Past."
"Why have you come to see me?"
"To show you what the World Series once was. To show you where you have gone wrong. Come, take my hand."
Selig stared, dumbfounded for a moment, then realized he had no choice but to take the spirit's hand. He reached out and as he touched the hand of the small, glowing figure, he found himself immediately transported into a small school room. He didn't recognize it.
"Where are we? WHEN are we?" the commissioner asked the ghost.
"It is October 13, 1960. We're in a small Catholic school in Pittsburgh, just as Game 7 of the World Series is beginning. Watch."
In the back of the room, a boy fiddled with something in the sleeve of his blazer. As Selig approached, he could see that it was a transistor radio. Another boy huddled close to try and listen. Suddenly, the nun teaching class interrupted.
"Mr. Williams?"
"Yes, Sister Fezziwig?"
"What do you have in your sleeve?"
The boy started to say something, but the nun cut him off, "Is that a RADIO, Mr. Williiams?"
"Y-y-yes Sister Fezziwig." A look of pure terror covered the boy's face.
"Well, then! Bring it up here so we can all listen!"
"Those children!" exclaimed Selig.
"Yes ..." started the spirit."
"They, they love baseball. They care about the game! They care about who wins!"
"Come now, we shall visit a second Series."
Selig reached out and touched the spirit's hand. The setting around them melted away and was quickly replaced with a board room.
"I know this room! It's right outside my office!" The spirit only motioned to Selig. The commissioner looked and recognized himself in a board room with several TV executives. He listened in to the conversation.
"We'll purchase the TV rights, but you must agree to carry our pre-game show. And that show can't start until 8 PM because it has to be in prime time."
"What time will the games start?" Selig heard the past version of himself ask.
"Probably 8:30. Maybe a little later. Frankly, we don't care what time these games end. People don't tune in for the end of the games. They tune in for the highlights, the National Anthem singer, and some of the early commercials. The game could end at 10 or 11 or 12 and no one will be watching. It doesn't matter. This is FOX. We don't televise baseball, we televise spectacle. If you give us spectacle, we'll let you run your little game until the end on our network. Really, WE'RE the ones doing YOU a favor here."
Selig watched in horror as his past self reached for a pen.
"NO! TAKE ME BACK, SPIRIT! I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANY MORE! TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK!!!"
The light in the room disappeared and when it returned, Selig found himself back in his suite. He stared down at the baseball field. He swore that the first ghost had appeared during the third inning and yet the scoreboard indicated that it was only the second. Had he slept through an entire game? No, that was impossible. Game Six would be in Tampa. He got out of his box and turned back to the interior of the suite, attempting to clear his head. Standing in the suite waiting for him was a strange man dressed in a New York Yankees uniform. He was built like a brick. His arms rippled unnaturally under his sleeves.
"Come in! I am the Ghost of World Series Present! Look upon me!"
"Spirit," said Selig in a timid and nearly reverential tone, "Take me where you will. I have already traveled with one spirit and I have learned greatly from it. I hope that you can do the same for me."
"Touch my uniform," the spirit said simply. Selig did so and he and the spirit were both transported to the front of a house. Over the door flew a giant Philadelphia Phillies flag. "Let us go inside," said the spirit.
Selig followed the spirit into the house. The downstairs was empty, so they both went up the steps. At one end of the hall was the room of an eight-year-old boy. His walls were covered with posters of Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, and Jimmy Rollins. As he slept in his bed, a red comforter with the Phillies logo covered him. Selig looked at the boy with a puzzled face, then followed the spirit down the hall. In another room, the boy's mother slept in her bed, while the boy's father dozed in an arm chair with Game 1 of the World Series flickering on the TV screen in front of him. He still wore his Phillies' cap.
"It's the ninth inning! Of a one-run game! Why is everyone asleep!" cried Selig.
"It's midnight, Bud. The boy has school. His father works a day shift. Neither can stay awake to watch the team that they love."
"Spirit, surely you can show me someone enjoying this World Series! Show me Rays fans! They must be ecstatic to have a team in the World Series." The Spirit of World Series Present reached out his hand and Selig took it. To Selig's relief, they heard a voice laughing before as they emerged in a dining room full of people. His relief melted away as the voices turned angry.
"Can you BELIEVE they let the World Series end like that?!? On a rain delay? In my life as a Rays fan, we've suffered plenty, but to have the deciding game of the World Series called after five innings when we weren't given a chance to tie it up ... that was just UNFAIR."
"Selig paused and looked at the spirit, "I had no idea there were even Rays fans this serious!" The spirit looked at him scornfully. As another person at the table began to speak.
"Yeah, but those are the rules! I mean, what were they supposed to do?"
"That impotent old man Selig could've suspended the game himself! FIrst a tie All-Star Game, now a rain-shortened World Series? And for what? Would he have made the same decision if we were the Yankees? Or if we were the Red Sox? He doesn't care about us! He doesn't care about baseball!"
Selig turned to the spirit, "Spirit, that's not true! Oh, what have I done? What am I going to do? Help me spriit! Help me!"
But the spirit wasn't there. The room faded into a foggy, black vacuum. Selig remembered the prediction of Marge Schott and lifted his eyes to see a solemn phantom, hooded and shrouded in black, drifiting along the fog, coming towards him.
