[Bub13]

Sometimes I feel like the off-season is the best part of the year. No injuries, no losing streaks, no trade demands, no slumps, and no constant worrying over the lineup. Okay, that last one doesn't quite go, since this is definitely the time to worry over the lineup. But it's bigger picture: you're putting the pieces together and hoping they fit. Off-season is the time for a GM to stretch his imagination (and maybe his budget). It's a time of hope, when contenders know they're just a player away from that elusive championship, and fans of the also-rans and outright losers swear that this time their team is on the right path.

Here's a chronological recap of the 2037-38 off-season, picking up after arbitrations, and just as free agency is getting under way. Major news, major signings, and any other interesting tidbits that pass over the transom.

But first...an interruption: "A Hazy Interlude, or Did I Just Dream That?"

It's late November, a Friday, and I'm wrapping things up for the week. The ink is barely dry on the latest round of arbitration deals, and I'm looking forward to a couple days of relative quiet before free agency begins. I'm rising out of my chair when I hear my office door close. Funny that I didn't hear it open... Almost before I can ask who's there, standing before me is our owner, Alexis Pagan. Yes, the man I see maybe once a year, the man who's personal life makes more headlines than does his financial standing, the man who's so-called "business interests" are a complete mystery to me, is here. I suppress a smile and imagine that I can smell sulfur.

"Sit down, Jim, I've got some news for you."
I sit. "Good news, or bad news?"
"Good news, and great news, Jim." He smiles. Or at least part of his face wrinkles and his eyes have a sort-of glint.
"Um, okay," I say. "Before you start, is your son coming back for another internship? Because I think we've filled those positions already." I try to keep from wincing.
"Ha! Good lord, no, Jim!" he says. "My family is ridiculous. Half idiots and half criminals. I'm not sure which half is which." He's still smiling.
"Ah, okay. So lay it on me. Sir."
"Jim, I'm raising your budget again. I've done a little better than I imagined this year, so I wanted to put some...er, capital back into my investments. You're a good investment, Jim. Very good."
Am I sweating now? I think I'm sweating.
He goes on. "You'll have 130 million to play with this year, Jim. Will that help? I think it'll help. Go get us some players, Jim. I want a second baseman. And another pitcher, one that won't give up 40 homers a year, Jim." Somewhere, Ken Clark's ears must be burning.
My head is spinning. This is more baseball talk than I've ever heard from Pagan, and I'm sure sweat is getting in my eyes now. A thought intrudes from the back of my mind: where's he getting his info from? A mole? A bug? I need a drink.
"Jim, you need to relax." He leans forward and hands me a hankie. "Now, that was the good news. Are you ready for some great news? Of course are are. We're getting a new stadium, Jim. Isn't that fantastic! No more playing in that concrete dump, Jim! We'll have our own place, and I'm going to call it the Pagan Palace!"
I can only stare at him.
"Kidding, Jim, kidding! Call it whatever you want, since it's all my money anyway and we don't have to name it after some blood-sucking bank or consulting firm. No public money, because I'm not a leech, Jim. So you can name the place yourself. Maybe something local, the press will love that."
"How about Kamehameha Field?" I blurt, surprising myself.
"Sure, Jim, sounds great." He's standing now, and extends a hand. I stand, and we shake.
"My girl will send you a press release about the new stadium in a couple days, Jim. We'll emphasize the private funding, no public money, talk about my largesse. Like I said, my investments paid off this year. Quite well." He's actually chuckling now. "Oh, and one more thing." He leans forward, almost conspiratorially. "Bring. Me. A. Championship. I'm counting on you, Jim."
He turns to go and I begin to ask him something, but the words don't come. I'm sure I hear the door open and close, but I can't remember seeing him leave. And is the room a little...smokey now? I sit down, and some time later--I'm not sure how long--everything seems to come clear again, and I have to concentrate to remember what just happened.

More money....and a new stadium. Really? In time for opening day? Is that possible? I really do need that drink.

......

Next up: Back to the outer world. Off-season part 3.