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PlayTheKids · 02-09-2008, 10:34 PM

"You know your problem, Fay," Marvin Miller said with a smile. "You've tried to convince yourself you're content."

Vincent smiled back in a degree of awe of his friend. Even at 90, Miller's eyes are as bright as his mind is sharp. He speaks through a narrow mouth, shrunken by a weathered face with wrinkles his smile desperately tries to make up for, and often - such as now - does so successfully.

"That I don't harbor bitterness 15 years later doesn't mean I'm content with how things turned out, Marvin," Vincent responded.

Miller pulled a small tin pillbox from his pocket, popped one in his mouth and drank slowly from his water glass.

"I didn't say you were content," he said matter of factly. "I said you've tried to convince yourself you're content. But you're angry about it, and you can't help but be angry about it."

Vincent laughed as he turned on his heel before looking back at Miller. "And why can't I help it?"

"Because you convinced yourself they couldn't fire you, and then they did, as they had done to all of them before you."

Vincent sat back down and, leaning forward, he clasped his hands on the table. "So now that we've established I'm bitter and angry and screwed up 15 years ago, what is it that you, here at my table today, say you 'need' me for?"

"I need a partner," Miller replied flatly.

"A partner?"

"Consider this," Miller began as he rose from his chair. "Our ideals, our views, used to shape an alternative to Major League Baseball."

Vincent laughed a stunned chuckle. "You want to compete with America's pasttime? A multibillion dollar industry, and you - as financially sharp a man as I've ever encountered - want to compete with it?"

Miller smiled himself and raised his hand slowly, haltingly toward Vincent. "I long said the weakness of the modern players union is because its players have no grasp on what it was like before the union. This is no different. You and I have seen the mistakes, seen the misdirection in the way MLB has gone. We are powerless to fix those errors or turn back the clock, but we are not powerless to use that knowledge to shape something better."

It was clear to Vincent that his friend was completely serious. It was also clear to him that he was completely crazy.

"Even if I agreed with the concept, Marvin," he said, "where would we get players, stadiums...what cities would buy into a losing proposition?"

"It's not a losing..."

"BILLIONS, Marvin," Vincent interjected with a tone as though he was trying to talk Miller off a ledge. "You want to lay a groundwork to be bigger than that..."

But Miller shook his head, waving a finger at Vincent. "I didn't say bigger...I said better."

The men stared at each other briefly before the intercom on Vincent's phone rang. "Mr. Vincent, you need to be uptown in a half hour. Your driver is ready."

"Thank you, Ann," Vincent replied. "Marvin...I..."

"You need to go," Miller said with a smile. He shook Vincent's hand before putting on his overcoat and his hat and heading toward the door. But at the doorway, he stopped and turned to his friend one last time.

"I'm an old man who doesn't have time for hypotheticals, Fay," Miller said with a glint in his eye. "But I meant it when I said I need you."

With that, Miller was gone, and a distracted Vincent tried to recall where he had to be and why.

02-09-2008, 10:34 PM	#8
PlayTheKids Banned Join Date: Oct 2007 Posts: 116	"You know your problem, Fay," Marvin Miller said with a smile. "You've tried to convince yourself you're content." Vincent smiled back in a degree of awe of his friend. Even at 90, Miller's eyes are as bright as his mind is sharp. He speaks through a narrow mouth, shrunken by a weathered face with wrinkles his smile desperately tries to make up for, and often - such as now - does so successfully. "That I don't harbor bitterness 15 years later doesn't mean I'm content with how things turned out, Marvin," Vincent responded. Miller pulled a small tin pillbox from his pocket, popped one in his mouth and drank slowly from his water glass. "I didn't say you were content," he said matter of factly. "I said you've tried to convince yourself you're content. But you're angry about it, and you can't help but be angry about it." Vincent laughed as he turned on his heel before looking back at Miller. "And why can't I help it?" "Because you convinced yourself they couldn't fire you, and then they did, as they had done to all of them before you." Vincent sat back down and, leaning forward, he clasped his hands on the table. "So now that we've established I'm bitter and angry and screwed up 15 years ago, what is it that you, here at my table today, say you 'need' me for?" "I need a partner," Miller replied flatly. "A partner?" "Consider this," Miller began as he rose from his chair. "Our ideals, our views, used to shape an alternative to Major League Baseball." Vincent laughed a stunned chuckle. "You want to compete with America's pasttime? A multibillion dollar industry, and you - as financially sharp a man as I've ever encountered - want to compete with it?" Miller smiled himself and raised his hand slowly, haltingly toward Vincent. "I long said the weakness of the modern players union is because its players have no grasp on what it was like before the union. This is no different. You and I have seen the mistakes, seen the misdirection in the way MLB has gone. We are powerless to fix those errors or turn back the clock, but we are not powerless to use that knowledge to shape something better." It was clear to Vincent that his friend was completely serious. It was also clear to him that he was completely crazy. "Even if I agreed with the concept, Marvin," he said, "where would we get players, stadiums...what cities would buy into a losing proposition?" "It's not a losing..." "BILLIONS, Marvin," Vincent interjected with a tone as though he was trying to talk Miller off a ledge. "You want to lay a groundwork to be bigger than that..." But Miller shook his head, waving a finger at Vincent. "I didn't say bigger...I said better." The men stared at each other briefly before the intercom on Vincent's phone rang. "Mr. Vincent, you need to be uptown in a half hour. Your driver is ready." "Thank you, Ann," Vincent replied. "Marvin...I..." "You need to go," Miller said with a smile. He shook Vincent's hand before putting on his overcoat and his hat and heading toward the door. But at the doorway, he stopped and turned to his friend one last time. "I'm an old man who doesn't have time for hypotheticals, Fay," Miller said with a glint in his eye. "But I meant it when I said I need you." With that, Miller was gone, and a distracted Vincent tried to recall where he had to be and why.