SHORT HOP - My Career In Baseball by David Driscoll

[PurdueBrad]

Tib, this place definitely owes you a commission, I bought ITP earlier today because of your great dynasty. I don't know if I got lucky or 'normal' is really easy but I made Toronto's pitching rotation by Opening Day of the second season (got bombed the first two games as the knuckler didn't knuckle apparently) but just earned my first win in a 10 inning start!!! Anyway, keep up the great work Tib!

[Skywalker76]

Holy .... , just read through all pages in 4 hours. And all I can say it was really worth it. I read a lot and your stuff is among the best I've read for a while. What just sucks is that I'll have to wait every week for another piece of excellency like all the others now.
The trade is tough but I think we will se Davey in AA and AAA really soon now. That's what mostly happens in ITP when you're traded as a minor leaguer.
Keep it going man- awesome stuff !

[Tib]

Is it another Saturday already? Time for another installment of SHORT HOP. Thanks as always for the supportive comments. In re-reading past chapters it occurred to me that the last couple have had more character development than baseball, but I'm hoping to change that in the next few weeks. I anticipate Dave's baseball career moving forward quickly now. I had to establish certain character points early in the story and Dave's second year in A ball gave me the time to do that. Now that I have a better handle on him I'm ready to start giving you more of his "baseball life". Warning: humorous anecdotes ahead.

I thought writing this next chapter would be hard, but it really went fast. It was still tough to say goodbye to everybody. I enjoyed writing them (especially Moose, Miss Draper and Theo) and I was sad to know they'd be out of the story (at least for a while). It was a bittersweet parting, but Dave has a lot to look forward to, even if he doesn't know it yet.

Until then, here's Chapter 13: Goodbyes

[Tib]

CHAPTER 13:

Goodbyes

From: Dave Driscoll (ddriscoll@CBPA.org)
Sent: July 30, 2004 11:46PM
To: Don Driscoll (dondriscoll@familynet.com)

Subject:

Dear Dad,
I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while but something big has happened. I’m writing you right now from a hotel room in Little Rock, Arkansas. Why am I in Little Rock when the Gents are in the middle of a homestand? Because I was traded to Little Rock yesterday.

Believe me, I’m as surprised as you. What team trades away their first round pick? I was really angry at Theo, but I think this might be the best thing for me. I’m going to call you tomorrow and explain everything. I went 0 for 4 tonight in my first game, but overall my hitting is coming around. Got interviewed by some local paper. Little Rock is at the bottom of the Heartland League, so I know they’ll play me. I feel pretty optimistic. The toughest part was saying goodbye to everyone.

Talk to you tomorrow.

Dave
The Newest Little Rock Hound

I thought I was going to Durham. How could I not? I had been hitting well, scoring runs, stealing bases, not to mention I was working hard on showing some maturity.

“You’re not going to Durham,” were the first words out of Theo’s mouth.
I just sat there for a moment. Theo looked uncomfortable. He lit up his second cigarette in the last minute.
“Then what’s going on? Have I pissed you off?” I say.
“No, Dave,” he says. “Just the opposite. I’m very happy with how you’ve been developing. You’re going to be a great ballplayer. You have good instincts, good bat speed, a good eye and phenomenal hands. You’re smart and you play the game the way it should be played.”
“And?” I say.
“And you’ve been traded to the Kansas City organization.”

At first I didn’t know what to do. It was like a called third strike. My first thought was: you mean I can’t play ball with Moose and J.R. anymore?

“How come?” I finally asked. Here’s what Theo told me:

“Dave, I told you I would never lie to you. The organization feels Lino Lopez is going to be their guy at short for the foreseeable future. He’s just been killing wherever he goes. Did you know he went home during the off-season and hit .368 in Winter League? He’s leading Durham in homers and RBI, for Christ’s sake. I told you he was hot ****.”
He took a long drag of his cigarette.
“They were talking about keeping you here for another year because they anticipate Lino moving on to Raleigh. They wanted you to follow him to Durham. Believe me, I want you here, in this organization. Realistically for me, I’m not going to get back to the bigs with Jose Landeros at short. But I can’t do that to you. You’re too good a ballplayer to keep you in a dead end situation. You deserve to be someplace where you have a shot. Plus, you’re ready for AA now. So I called Martin Kellinger, the Knights’ GM. I called in a marker and worked out a deal to send you and Pridgen to Little Rock for two bodies. I don’t even know who we’re getting – all I know is one’s a shortstop. The truth is, Dave, I really didn’t care who I got. I let Marty pick who he wanted to send me.”
I tried to let it sink in, but the news was still buzzing around my head like an angry bee.
“Why Little Rock?” I asked.
“Because Kansas City has no shortstops. They haven’t had a decent shortstop since Munoz, you know that. When he retired early it left them in the lurch. They weren’t expecting to have to replace him so soon and they had no one ready on the farm. I know this because I was partly responsible for the situation. Munoz told me he wanted to play four more years. I told the team not to bother drafting any shortstops. They didn’t draft any shortstops. Horatio quit. Now they’re hurting.”
Theo took another long drag of his cigarette, finished it, and lit another. He took a long drink out of a Diet Coke can. He held it out to me.
“Scotch?”
“Uh, no thanks.”
“It’s Blue Label.”
“I’ll pass.”

“I never heard the end of it, even after I left,” he continued. “The Knights felt like I shafted them somehow. How did I know he wanted to go back to the Dominican and become a missionary? He was only 35, for Christ’s sake. He never mentioned anything about it to me. Now, I’m carrying the cross on that one. ‘You owe us a shortstop, Theo’ Kellinger says to me. Jesus.”
He shook his head slowly, took another long drag on his cigarette and went on.
“Did you know we almost sent them Lopez last year? The team came to me and said ‘can we move a shortstop?’ Yeah, I said. Move Lopez. There was a deal in place: Lopez for some kid named Finnie. You know why it didn’t happen?”
“I got hurt.”
“You got hurt.”
This was not really happening, was it?

Theo went on: “The bottom line is you’re going to a place where you’ll be the number one shortstop in the whole farm system. They won’t trade you. You’ll be starting, batting in the one or two spot. It’s a better chance than Atlanta will give you now. That know-nothing prick Van Alten wanted to keep you as insurance. He told me to tell you he liked you more than Lino. You know, to get you to stay. I told him I wasn’t going to lie for him. I told him to move you.”
“You pushed to trade me?”
“Yep. Best thing for you.”
“Best thing for you, you mean,” I said angrily.
“What?” said Theo. His eagle eyes bored into me.
“You screw up and KC is out of a shortstop. A world class shortstop, in fact. Now you figure you can get square with them by sending me. Let’s face it, Theo, you want to get back to the bigs and if I work out you can remind them where they got me, get yourself a better job than managing in Hinesville.”
Theo gave me a hard stare. Once upon a time it would have intimidated me.
“It ain’t like that at all, kid.”
“No? It sure feels like it to me.”
Theo and I stared at each other for a long moment. His goddamn cigarette was dangling from his lower lip. I wanted to smack it away.
“I burned too many bridges in Kansas City, kid. I won’t be back as long as Frank Faraday’s in the front office. But fine. You think I’m playing you? You want to call Van Alten?” He lifted up the phone receiver and held it out to me in one fat fist. “Let’s call him. I told you I’d never lie to you and I meant it. I may be a lot of things, but I’ve never left a player wondering why.”

I wanted to take that phone, but I didn’t. “No,” I said. Theo set it down and sat down again.
“I’m not denying that this trade will set me right with them,” he said. “It will. You’re going to be very good, Dave.”
“Oh, now I’m Dave,” I snorted.
“Just listen. Does it matter? You want to go to LA? They want you, too. But they have four outstanding shortstops there. You want to fight it out with those guys? You want to make your case in San Bernardino, riding the bench? I can make it happen.”
He ran his hand over his flattop and gave a long, loud exhale.
“You don’t have a choice. You’re going to Little Rock. They need a player like you. You need a situation like this.”

I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. Theo didn’t care enough about people’s feelings to consider it.
“When do I have to be there?”
“You start tomorrow against Burlington.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. It’s a night game.”
“I can’t wrap up everything in less than twelve hours!”
“Try.”
“What if I don’t show up?”
“They fine the hell out of you.”
Goddamn, I was pissed.
“How much?” I growled.

I told the guys right there in the parking lot. No point in wasting time. They didn’t know what to say either. We all just stood there. Nobody knew what to do next. Then Moose, good old Moose, shakes my hand and says, “Make Atlanta regret it.”

I put on a pot of chili and they all helped me pack. We made a party out of it. I called Miss Draper and told her. I said Moose and J.R. wanted to continue as tenants. She agreed and wished me luck. She told me she’d send over the lease in the morning. She told me I was a good young man. “Keep the Lord in your life, David,” she said.

I don’t know who called the team, but one by one they began to show up at the house. Pretty soon we had just about everybody there, helping, talking, and joking. Bradley Sing even showed up. I couldn’t believe it. It made leaving hurt even more because I never really hung out with them, yet here they were showing up to say goodbye.

Pridgen was as surprised as everyone else. “I just got here,” he told me. “Now I’m gone.”
“It’ll be all right,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “With Kearse gone from Hinesville I thought I’d get a shot to start. Now I’ll be playing behind Tony Finnie.”
“Is he any good?”
“He only leads the Heartland League in every offensive category. I’ll be sitting the bench.”
“Lopez for some kid named Finnie”. Some kid, my ass.
“How are you getting to Little Rock?” I asked him.
“I’ll drive. I’m leaving in about fifteen minutes.”
“Why not hang out here for a while and we’ll go out together?”
“Nah,” he said. “You should stay, say your goodbyes. You knew these folks a lot longer than I did. I don’t mind driving at night and I--.”
“What?”
“I really want to get out of here.”
Who could blame him?

There was a familiar rap-rap-rap-rap at the door. I admit my heart stopped for a moment because there was only one person who knocked like that. When I opened the door, Cliff stood there with a shiny black bat I had never seen before in his giant hand. We just stood there like a couple of idiots. I don’t know how he knew, but he knew. Maybe it was the noise. Maybe it was the cars out front. Maybe when you live next to rookie ballplayers you get to know when someone’s leaving.
He held up the length of gleaming black wood. His soft voice was in calm contrast to the noisy house behind me.
“This is Beatrice,” he said. “She’s the bat I used in 1950 when I hit 50 home runs.”
“Oh no, Cliff. Man, I can’t-.”
“It’s okay. Take her,” he nodded. “For luck.”
He held her out to me. She was beautiful.
“Thanks, Cliff.”
Cliff gave a simple nod. We stood there for a moment.
“I’ll miss your chili,” I said.
Cliff nodded again. “I’ll miss watching you play,” he said.
We shook hands there in the doorway. “You’ll see me again,” I said, forcing a smile. “On TV.”
“Shoot, Davey,” he said. “I’ll drive to Kansas City if I have to.”
“You want to come in for a while?”
“Thank you. I believe I will.”
“You’ll never guess what I made for dinner.”

I was traded to Little Rock at 9:45pm and on the road to Arkansas by one. It was a twelve hour drive and I could have left the next morning, but I just wanted to get out of there. Like Mark Pridgen, I felt like I didn’t belong there anymore. It’s a strange feeling to know your team doesn’t think they need you, when the day before you were the starting shortstop. Moose and J.R., Dex and Yoogie, they all had handshakes and hugs for me. J.R. told me to kick ass. Dex said he was upset I was going because they were going to have to get a new Playstation.

I shook hands with Yoogie.
“Watch yourself,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “You too. Thanks for all the-, you know.”
“Yeah.”

Moose practically lifted me off the ground.
“See ya, ****head.”
“See ya, ****head.”
“Give me your number when you get there.”
“I will. Thanks for everything, Moose.”
“Always, man. And remember to lighten up.”
“I’ll try.”

The guys waved at me as I pulled out onto Bagley Street. I waved back and popped my AC/DC disk in the player. Highway to Hell blasted into the cab of the truck. In the rear view mirror I caught a glimpse of an old man and a little dog walking in the dark.

Next week: Welcome to Little Rock

[UngratefulDead]

Still incredible, that last chapter was one of your best, IMO, somehow the spacing and timing of the dialogue seemed to portray conversation very well.

[Rasmuth]

very emotional...sad...you do all this very well...."sniff sniff"

[jaxmagicman]

Very good. Keep it coming. Saturday can't get here soon enough.

[Skywalker76]

I want more more Saturdays !!!

[lindslp]

I read through this thread yesterday. Nice work!! It almost made me buy the game, but I think I want to wait until the patch comes out.

[jaxmagicman]

It is almost saturday!

[BigTallAggie]

I read this post about three weeks ago and been checking the post religiously every Sunday (no pun intended). Keep up the great work. I have begun to write one myself but I think I will keep it to myself for now. Not nearly good enough to put out yet.

[Tib]

Good morning, or afternoon, or whatever it is in Guam, Jax (BTW, I'm working on your appearance, but it won't come for a little while). Welcome to Chapter 14 of SHORT HOP. It's time for a new start for Dave and Little Rock is full of interesting events and characters. My original intention with this chapter was to take Dave forward to season's end, but it quickly got stretched out too far for one chapter. His arrival in Arkansas required so much planning and set up on my part I almost felt like I was moving there myself!

As always, I used Yahoo! maps to gather background info, so you can quickly find the locations of all the places, should you be so inclined. Of course, I have no idea what may actually be at those locations, with the exception of Eddie's and a couple of other real-life businesses you'll read about.

Anyway, for those who are looking for more baseball; don't worry, it's coming. But for now Dave has a couple of important people to meet and a couple of loose ends to tie. Thanks for the comments everyone. Hope you enjoy Welcome to Little Rock.

[Tib]

CHAPTER 14:

Welcome to Little Rock

I was anxious about Little Rock. It wasn’t like Hinesville. It was much bigger and I had no place to stay, not even a contact like I had when I got to Georgia. It was easy enough to get there; it’s about 100 miles west of Memphis on I-40.

The University of Arkansas at Little Rock was the local college. It was in the west of town, but its influence was all over the place. Lots of pizza places and coffee houses. It was also full of local government; Little Rock was the state capital, after all. If I expected a kind of rural city I was mistaken. Little Rock was busy.

I got to my hotel at 12:45 in the afternoon. There were two phone messages at the front desk. Someone from the team wanted me to call them immediately. Hal Fitzwalter wanted me to call him immediately. And so it begins, I thought tiredly. I called Hal.

Hal was very happy I got out of the Atlanta organization, something I considered odd since he worked for the Atlanta organization. He told me if he ever decided to start representing players I’d be his first choice.
“That’s crap, Hal,” I kidded. “You’d go for Ross Watts and you know it.”
“Okay, true,” replied Hal. “But you’d be in the top ten.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s why I wanted you to call me, Davey. You need to look for representation.”
“An agent? What for?”
“Because up to now I looked out for you, but you’ve been a pro for more than a year now and you’re a first rounder.”
“Who just got traded away.”
“Right. But it’ll still bring you some attention. A standard minor league contract is pretty basic stuff. You and your dad could probably handle it by yourselves, but there are people out there who are looking to take advantage of a kid with no experience. Especially a first rounder.”
“I’m still bound by my contract, right?”
“Right, but you’ll be approached for local appearances. Things like that. Right now the team makes all the endorsement decisions, but your personal appearances are your own. It’s just a good idea now that you’ve tasted a little of what pro sports are about. Protect your interests.”
The truth was I had been approached by several people, but I never met formally with any of them. “Any recommendations?”
“I’ll email you some names.”
“Thanks, Hal. When am I going to see you?”
“Don’t know, kid. Probably won’t. I’m out west these days.”
“You’ve got to come to my first CBA game, at least.”
“You give me the when and where and I’ll be there.”

It was good to talk to Hal. He had a way of telling you something; you just knew you could trust him. He gave me some insight into the Kansas City organization and it helped me immensely, as you will read. I was to be tested severely in the next year. Hal and I kept in touch for many years until his death from heart failure in ‘18.
“Play the game, Davey,” he said then (and often when we spoke of my career). “Just play the game and it’ll be all right.”
“Watch for me, Hal.”
“Page 54,” he said.
“What?”
“Page 54. Of Baseball Insider. That’s the KC farm stats page. That’s where I’ll watch for you. I can’t really give you any career advice now that you’re with KC, but listen to Romeo Mercado. He’s one of their advance scouts. Good guy. Hook up with him if you can. He knew Munoz.”
“Romeo Mercado,” I repeated. “I remember him from when he played for Seattle. Thanks, Hal.”

Thirty minutes later Larry Nicholls, the Hounds’ Player Relations Coordinator, arrived in the lobby. He looked more like the skinny kid who took all the yearbook photos in high school than a team representative. He greeted me with a firm handshake and way too much energy. “Welcome to Little Rock! We’re very happy to have you as a member of the Hounds, Davey.”
Here we go again with Davey, I thought.
“It’s Dave,” I said wearily.
“Sorry. Dave, then,” he replied quickly, making a note in a little book. “Have you eaten yet, Dave?”
“I haven’t even been to sleep yet.”
“Ah. That’s right. You must have just driven in. Okay, then. Why don’t we get a bite and go through all the orientation materials? Then you can catch some sleep this afternoon before the game. We’ve got a busy day if we’re going to make you an official part of the organization. You have to be processed with the league before you can play.”
“Why don’t I go to sleep and you can come get me at about six o’clock?”
“Sure, well, I could do that,” began Larry, “but you have to be approved by the Heartland League before you can play and that means I have to fax the league office by two in order to receive a reply by the end of business today. You can’t play tonight otherwise and everyone’s coming to see you.”
“Who is everyone?”
I had stumped him. “Everyone is everyone. The whole team office, the owner Mrs. Beatty, college students. Everyone. You’re our first decent shortstop in three years.”

Over lunch Larry had me fill out form after form, all the while telling me how much I’m going to like playing for the Hounds. I half-listened as I checked off the questions.
“And there’s this great place called Eddie’s where a lot of the guys go to eat after games. They’ve never invited me, but I know about it....”
Have you ever experienced shortness of breath, chest pains, heart palpitations or cold sweats? No, I wrote.
“The team just installed a first class whirlpool and sauna in the back of the clubhouse. Twelve hundred gallons. Top of the line. As soon as I figure out why the water only gets to seventy-seven degrees it’ll be fantastic…”
Have you ever been diagnosed with heart disease, diabetes, cancer, high blood pressure, lymphoma or a congenital condition of any kind? No, I wrote.
“You’ll love the night life here. Pubs, clubs and restaurants everywhere. Also, plenty of young available ladies, if I may say so…”
Have you ever had an injury to any bone or joint? If so, did it require surgery? Uh-oh...
“The field has a state-of-the-art scoreboard with real animations. The dugouts feature non-skid rubberized carpet. The PA system is one of the most expensive…”
…injury to any joint?....
“We have a car giveaway every month, a sack race around the bases, seat lotteries, free haircut nights and Bring Your Hound Night, student and faculty nights as well as….”
…injury to any joint… No, I wrote.

The Hounds’ home field, Hangar Hill Stadium, was in east Little Rock, on the corner of Hangar and College Street, about a mile from the Little Rock Airport and just north of Hangar Hill Park. I was given a map of the east Little Rock area. “Don’t get lost in there after a game,” said Larry with a little chuckle.

The Hounds’ manager was Lyle Palmer. Larry said he had been with the team for eight years. “You’ll like him,” he said. “Real nice guy. Everybody likes Coach Palmer.”
Well that’ll be a switch, I thought.

According to Larry, the Hounds had struggled for about two years but were still very popular.
“They love us here,” he said. “Even more than the Trojans.”
“Trojans?”
“The UALR Trojans. The local college team.”
“We have a college team called the Trojans where I come from, too.”
“Well, then it’ll be just like home,” he said.

The Heartland League was much like the Eastern Developmental League. It was made up of several CBA franchisees and a couple of independents; only in the Heartland League the independents were pretty good. The Little Rock Hounds were at 40-61, last place, 2 games behind the Burlington Gamblers.

The rest of my day was spent asleep. At five-thirty I woke up and made a couple of phone calls. I went to see a house at West 11th and South Tyler, just north of the university. The landlord, Wilton Williams, wasn’t much older than I. Nice enough guy, but I got the distinct impression that if he didn’t work for his parents he may not have had a job at all. The house was nice, with a landscaped back yard. “A rarity in a college town”, he said. There was even a little pond and a fire pit in back. We walked out front and I was ready to tell him it was too expensive and what was I going to do with a pond and a fire pit, anyway? That’s when I saw four cute girls sunning themselves in the front yard of a little house across the street.

I crossed the street. I left Wilton standing on the side walk looking at his expensive shoes. One of the girls, a pretty brunette in a purple bikini, raised herself to her elbows and looked at me through a pair of Oakleys.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking to rent that house over there and I was wondering if you could tell me if all the girls in this neighborhood are as cute as you.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Actually, no.”
She seemed to look around for help, but her friends were either asleep or pretending to be.
“It’s a college town,” she said. “There are girls everywhere. Go find one and leave me alone.”
“Okay, good,” I replied. “Any other reason I should take it? Other than it’s near your shining presence?”
“Yeah, it’s a piece of crap and it costs way too much, but it’ll be close enough for your cheap hung-over dates to walk back to their sorority.”
“My God, you’ve read my mind. Are you always this intuitive or is it experience?”
One of her friends laughed in her sleep.
She cracked a smile. I took my chance. “Dave Driscoll,” I said, extending my hand. “I play for Little Rock.”
She was unimpressed. Strong hands, though.
“You don’t play for the Trojans,” she said.
“No, the Hounds. Class A ball. I’m a professional baseball player.”
She gave me the look Marisa gave me when I told her I was 5’9”.
“No, really,” I pleaded. “I’m playing tonight, if you want to come to the game.”
“Baseball players are dicks.”
“Not all of us are dicks. Some of us are *******s.”
“Why would I want to come to your baseball game?”
“Because you’re dying for someone to invite you somewhere but don’t want to appear desperate?”
“Kiss off.”
“Okay, how about because you can’t stand the thought of listening to another one of your roommates’ Friday night men-are-*******s bitch sessions?”
“You’re a jerk. You know that, right?”
“Okay, how about because I’m kind of cute and you’ve been here a year and no one’s taken you to a ballgame?”
“I don’t need a man to take me to a ballgame.”
“Good, because I’m playing so I won’t actually be with you.”
“Wow, you’re a fun date.”
“I promise to wave to you every inning.”
“Aren’t you going to feed me?”
“We’ll grab something after.”
“That’s ten-thirty! What if I get hungry before then?”
“Here’s five bucks. Get yourself a hot dog.”
“Screw you.”
“Man, talking to you is about as comfortable as a sandpaper jockstrap.”
“You are sooo funny.”
I started back across the street. “I’ll leave a ticket for you at will call.”
“I’m not coming! And besides, I didn’t tell you my name,” she called.
“You’ll know it’s for you,” I called back.
When I got to the sidewalk, Wilton was shaking his head.
“That was rough, man.”
“I’ll take the house,” I said.

I got to the stadium at six-thirty, forty-five minutes before game time. I parked in the players’ lot, grabbed my gear bag, and walked down the tunnel to meet my new team. I was greeted at the door by whom else? Larry Nicholls. I began to think Larry was the entire front office rolled into one. Guys came up to shake hands and say hello. It was nice. No screaming, glaring coaches. No signs of racial segregation. Very low key, very relaxed.

Larry took me to my locker. Hanging inside was a snow white home uniform, complete with the Hounds’ blue and rust striping and Homer the Hound on the left sleeve. I saw the Coolmax label in the collar and silently thanked whoever decided to buy an expensive micro fiber blend for summer baseball in the South. The best part was the name written on masking tape across the top of the locker: Dave Driscoll, 11. Dave. Finally.

Larry apologized that he wasn’t going to get my actual name plaque until the next day.
“Could you leave a ticket at the gate for someone for me?” I asked.
“Sure. What’s the name?”
I told him.
Turns out Larry wasn’t just the Player Relations Coordinator, he was also the Head Locker Room Attendant, Chief Ticket-leaver and Vice-president of Plaque Manufacturing.

Just then there was a huge bang and a roar as a two-foot wave of water tumbled into the locker room, flooding everything and sweeping away anything that wasn’t nailed down. It cascaded over my legs and rode up my jeans, soaking my wallet. Larry stomped his way against the current. “Not again!” he yelled. Guys cursed and jumped on the benches. My gear bag surfed away into the shower room without even saying goodbye. My shoes and glove are in there, I thought numbly.
“Sorry, Dave,” said Larry. “The new sauna slipped off the cinder blocks again.”

Welcome to Little Rock, Dave.

Next week: Chapter 15, Buddha, Brunettes and Biorhythms

[Jazzmosis]

Complete Genius, as usual - I salute your writing! I also have to say I enjoy the background you have created for Dave just as much as I have how he performs!

Keep it up!

[jaxmagicman]

Nice, that girl sounds like a very nice person. Did he leave the reseravtion under unsocial bitch?

[Rasmuth]

Man, you're good!

[UngratefulDead]

I smell a future wife..

[Skywalker76]

Originally Posted by jaxmagicman

Nice, that girl sounds like a very nice person. Did he leave the reseravtion under unsocial bitch?

Hahahaha ! I bet she won't turn up and if she'll be another players girlfriend.

As usual just awesome writing.

[cknox0723]

Little Rock? Little Rock? I'm itching for a return trip to Hinesville...

But the writing's still fantastic, even if the plot line took a rather unfortunate turn.

[jaxmagicman]

Ok. While we wait for Saturday, why don't we try to come up with who would play Dave Driscoll in a movie.

I say it would be a toss up between Josh Hartnett or Colin Ferrell. But I might be wrong. I am thinking tall and skinny. What do you guys think? Maybe sandy-blonde hair.