Lloyd McClendon smiled weakly and patted Mr. Leyland on the back. “Giving mini-bats to the whole team for today’s game was a stroke of genius, Mr. Leyland, sir. Six runs is a lot of scoring, especially when using little bats.”
Mr. Leyland, struck between the shoulder blades, coughed phlegm about for a good minute. Then he took another drag. “Be damned if I know where the pitching went again, though.”
Kenny Rogers shuffled by the visiting manager’s office and poked his head in as Lloyd McClendon left. “Sorry about that seventh inning, Mr. Leyland, sir. I don’t know what happened there.”
Mr. Leyland coughed again.
“Hey, maybe this will cheer you up. Did you see my latest whittling project? I made a wooden bowl and spoon between innings today.”
“Yes, that’s nice, ki… where did you get the lumber for that? Did you bring it with you?”
“That’s the best part! I found these used bats in the recycle bin outside the Metrodome on the way in today and didn’t have to buy anything! I was even able to have a little chocolate pudding after the sixth inning today.”
Mr. Leyland slapped his hand against his forehead, creating a leathery reverberation through the tiny office. “You… made a bowl and spoon from the ass-bats.”
“Yes, Mr. Leyland, sir.”
“And then you ate from the bowl with the spoon.”
“Yes, Mr. Leyland, sir.”
“And then you gave up 5 runs.”
“Yes, Mr. Leyland, sir… was that bad?”
Mr. Leyland sighed raspingly. “Did you make a set for Zach Miner, too?”
“No, why?”
“No reason. Just throw them out before we leave Minnesota.”
“Yes, Mr. Leyland, sir.”
“And try not to whittle anything until we get back to Detroit, eh? Think you can do that for me, kid?”
“Yes, Mr. Leyland, sir.”
I hope he didn’t get a splinter from the ass-bat spoon!
The rotisserie chicken joke was right there. Thank you for not wood smoking the easy way out.
I wanted to, but there was a Miner in the recap.