[legendsport]

October 29, 1939: Egypt, GA:

Rufus Barrell, retiree. While accurate, that particular moniker was still sinking in as Rufus walked back to the farmhouse. His dog, Blue (the fourth... or was it fifth? Or sixth?... in the series of 'Blues' the Barrells had owned since moving to Georgia from Brooklyn) was tugging on the leash, eager to get back inside and see what Alice was cooking. Blue the Fifth (or Sixth) was only on a leash because he was still little more than a pup and still rambunctious.

"Slow down, boy, I'm not as spry as I used to be," Rufus said. And it was true. He had never really given much thought to his advancing age; part of him believed this was because his job kept him active. Now, less than three weeks into his retirement, he suddenly felt old. And useless. That part he wouldn't admit to anyone, especially his wife.

He walked up the steps slowly, his knee and hip sending his brain brief but noteworthy signals of pain. He bent over with a small sigh, unclipped the lead from Blue's collar and swung open the screen door. The dog shot through the opening as soon as it was large enough and rocketed towards the kitchen. Rufus followed at a much more leisurely pace.

Alice was frying bacon and as Rufus entered the kitchen he saw the coon hound had already seated himself at her right hip, his head tilted up with hopeful anticipation.

Rufus sat down at the table, a small but audible grunt punctuating the procedure and drawing a look from his wife. "Your hip?" she asked, turning back to the skillet before he answered.

"Yep. Been bothering me a lot lately," he replied.

"Arthritis. You should go see Doc," Alice suggested.

Rufus groaned. The last thing he wanted was to go for some poking, prodding and unwanted advice. Alice shot him another look, this one of annoyance. "I know, I know," Rufus said.

The phone rang. Rufus wondered who would be calling this early. They had only recently had a phone installed in the kitchen, more a nod to their advancing age than a matter of simple convenience. Having an "extension" in the kitchen meant not having to go all the way into the sitting room to answer the phone.

Rufus rose slowly and got to the phone as the second ring was still echoing in the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Rufus, y'all have a long distance call," he heard the operator say. Egypt being such a small town, it still had an operator. Rufus had grown somewhat accustomed to the "automatic switching" that allowed direct dialing in Washington. But he'd known Doris Delacroix for decades. "Put it through, please Doris," he replied and added a "thank you."

There was a click and then he heard, "Rufus? This is George Theobald."

Momentarily taken aback, Rufus wondered why the legendary former manager was calling. He had a sinking feeling it was related to their shared grandson, Roger Cleaves.

So he was surprised when Theobald said, "I want to offer you a job."

"Beg pardon?" Rufus asked, so stunned he couldn't come up with anything else.

"I want to offer you a job," Theobald repeated.

A job? Theobald was a minority owner of the Detroit Dynamos, but Rufus knew that Dynamos owner Powell Thompson, the younger brother of the recently-deceased "Big Eddie" Thompson, had taken an iron grip on personnel matters.

"A job? I just retired, George," Rufus pointed out. Alice turned and stared at him, a frown on her face.

"Oh, I'm aware of that. But I think you might want to hear me out."

"OK, I'm listening," Rufus replied and saw Alice's frown deepen into a disapproving scowl. He shrugged and gave her a small grin. She shook her head, plainly displeased.

"How would you like to be my scouting director?" Theobald asked.

"I thought you just hired Dutch Forrester?" Rufus replied. The Dynamos had recently hired Forrester to be their top scout. Rufus thought he was a bit pompous, but Forrester was a good scout.

There was a moment of silence. Rufus was starting to wonder if Theobald was still on the line when he finally heard the other man say, "So you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"I'm no longer with Detroit, Rufus," Theobald said. He went on to explain that the new owner, the younger half-brother of Big Eddie (who had been George Theobald's best friend), had managed to reduce Theobald's share in the club. Theobald described, with evident pain, Powell Thompson's stated opinion that the "game had passed him by" and it was time to leave it to "younger and smarter" men to run the team. Thompson was all too happy to buy Theobald's share in the Dynamos and significantly less happy when he got wind of what Theobald did next.

"I partnered up with John Tice," Theobald explained.

"Tice? The guy in Cincinnati who wants to buy the Cannons?" Rufus asked.

"Yes, and this is part of what you haven't heard," Theobald said and then explained, "The deal is done. Banner and Tice are having a press conference with Sam Benton in DC to announce it. The Cannons are moving to Cincinnati, and I'm going to be both part-owner and manager."

Rufus whistled. He hadn't heard that the deal had been made, though rumors had swirled for months that Oscar Banner, the Baltimore Cannons owner, was unhappy with his club's dismal performance and was ready to get out of baseball entirely. John E. Tice, the grandson of old James Tice, who had been such a thorn in the side of William Whitney as the owner of the old Cincinnati Monarchs. The grandson ran a soap company - and ran it well - and had money to burn. Money enough, apparently, to buy both the Baltimore Cannons and Monarchs Field in Cincinnati. Rufus knew Sam Benton had been opposed to having a team move - something unheard of in FABL. But it had happened.

"I want you to be the Cannons scouting director," George Theobald repeated.

"Why me?" Rufus spluttered.

"I need a man who can help bring in good players, starting from the very bottom with the youngsters and going all the way up the chain. You've been scouting so long you already know every player in the organization, top to bottom. And I need that because this team is a real mess. Plus you happen to know one of our key players very, very well."

"I'll do it," Rufus said firmly. He heard a crash and turned to see that Alice had dropped the skillet she had been carrying to the table. Bacon and grease were strewn across the floor - Blue leapt upon the unforeseen opportunity (the doggy equivalent of winning the lottery) and was happily snapping up bacon while Alice stood staring at her husband.

"What was that?" Theobald asked.

"Uh... that was my wife's reaction to me taking the job," Rufus said sheepishly.

"Oh," Theobald said. His wife was long dead, but he'd been married long enough to know what to do. "I will let you go. Call me when you have some time to discuss details."

Rufus thanked him and hung up.

"What have you done!?!" Alice shouted at him.

"I'm going to work for the Cannons," he said.

"The Cannons? But that's where Deuce..." Alice said, the biting tone gone from her voice.

"Exactly," was Rufus' smiling reply.

.