no idea what should follow the “maybe.”
“Unless you’re going to tell me about an oil well behind second base, I thought of everything we could do. We got that stupid giant walking foam owl so that the little kiddies would have something. We got the Owlie girls in hot pants shooting T-shirts into the stands for the daddies of the little kiddies. Ginger says kids these days like rock music. What the hell do I know about rock music? We seen what happened with that.”
Late last season, Collier had brought in a band that was doing the county fair circuit. For a month before the date they were going to play, he ran ads on three of the local radio stations, bought billboards, but the concert attendance was sparse. The problem, Edward Everett realized later, was that Collier had brought in a band Ginger had liked in grade school, but they hadn’t had a hit in twenty years. Most of the people who stayed after the game for the show were women in their late thirties and beyond, who, even though they were mothers or even grandmothers, screamed the lead singer’s name shrilly while their kids slunk up the aisles pretending to be orphans.
Edward Everett didn’t know what to say. He read Baseball America, knew the stories: a single-A team in Piedmont, Virginia, disbanded mid-season, throwing the entire league into chaos; a low-A team in Pocatello, Idaho, offered for sale on eBay. The auction was a joke but the purpose serious: the owner was looking for publicity to sell it. Even in their own league, foul balls sometimes landed in the stands and rattled around while kids raced from eight, nine sections away to retrieve them.
“The drain thing is the last straw,” Collier said. “It wasn’t just the rains. When the Roto-Rooter guy come out, he found clay on the snake. Clay means cracked pipes. He says, knock wood, if we don’t get any more serious rain, we can get through the season with them not backing up again, but they’re gonna need to be replaced. You don’t want to know what it’s gonna cost. It’s more than your bosses pay you.” He regarded Edward Everett for a moment, then said, “I wanted you to know. I’m not telling anyone. Not even Ginger, who nags, ‘Dump the team; dump the team.’ We’re not pulling a Piedmont. I’m going to look for someone to buy it. Hope someone from the damn town wants it. That’s the first choice. Second is someone buys it and moves it to Bumfuck, South Dakota, or somewheres. Third—” He arched his eyebrow and made a gesture as if scattering scraps of paper to the wind.
“What about obligations to the franchise?” Edward Everett asked.
Collier smoothed his mustache, a gesture Edward Everett had come to know meant he was considering his words. “Your bosses ain’t said nothing?”
“No,” Edward Everett said, his skin prickling.
Collier sighed. “This year’s the last on the contract.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” Edward Everett said.
“My lawyers tell me a month ago your bosses shut down the talks.”
“I had no idea,” Edward Everett said.
Collier sipped his coffee and looked away as if he was composing a sentence carefully in his head. From somewhere in the house a vacuum whined and in the kitchen two women laughed. Collier shook his head. “I assumed your bosses would’ve told you. We’ve been talking to Cincinnati since they got a single-A contract up as well. They seem interested but …” He shrugged. “I can’t believe your boss ain’t said nothing.”
“Nothing,” Edward Everett said.
“Well, in a way, I’m relieved,” Collier said. “I thought we were friends and when I thought maybe you were holding out on me, I was hurt.”
He was relieved? Edward Everett thought. I could be out of a job and he’s relieved?
He realized that Collier had stood, a gesture that said the meeting was over. “Give the missus my best,” he said.
Walking through the house, Edward Everett tried not to resent Collier pleading financial straits all the while he employed a platoon of women who were at that moment teetering on step stools to wipe dust off the crystal baubles in the dining room chandelier, taking small brushes to the grout in the tiled floor of the entranceway. Besides, he thought, whether Collier sold the team or dissolved it would not affect him in the end, since even if the Owls stayed in Perabo City, he wouldn’t have a job there next season, not if the big club