Rooted In Oakland

[Hendu Style]

The year was 2020. The Raiders had just won Super Bowl LI in their final season in Oakland, and were relocating to Las Vegas for the 2020 season. The Golden State Warriors had won three straight NBA Finals in Oakland, but had now moved across the Bay to San Francisco and a new billion-dollar arena. To think that the Oakland Coliseum & Arena were once witness to an historic run of championships that may never be seen again in pro sports history:

1972 - Oakland A's Won World Series
1973 - Oakland A's Won World Series
1974 - Oakland A's Won World Series
1975 - Golden State Warriors Won NBA Finals
1976 - Oakland Raiders Won Super Bowl XI (Jan. 9th, 1977)

In all, Oakland hosted 12 world championship teams over the course of five decades, five in the 1970's alone. But those halcyon days were now long gone, like a Reggie Jackson home run into the Coliseum bleachers, or a Steph Curry 3 at Oracle Arena. The Raiders were in Vegas, the Warriors in San Francisco. Only the A's remained.


A Brief History

The oft-traveled A's first planted their flag in Oakland in 1968. Baseball was booming in California, with the Dodgers and Giants leaving New York for greener pastures in the 1950's, followed by the Angels and A's in the 1960's. It was the latest move for an Athletics franchise that was first founded in 1901 in Philadelphia and remained there until 1955, when the team was relocated to Kansas City.

The East Bay was rewarded with three consecutive World Series titles from 1972 to 1974, and three more World Series appearances from 1988 to 1990. General Manager Billy Beane ushered in four consecutive playoff appearances in the early 2000's, highlighted by a 20-game win streak that was later immortalized in the book and movie, "Moneyball." For all their accomplishments though, the A's and Oakland were a star-crossed couple. No matter the season, the Athletics were always second fiddle to the Giants in the Bay Area. A crumbling Oakland Coliseum and flagging attendance didn't help matters. For much of the 2010's, the A's and their fans faced ceaseless talk of a move out of Alameda County. There was talk of a new stadium project in Fremont that never materialized. Then San Jose made its pitch to land the A's, only to be blocked by the neighboring San Francisco Giants and the infinite wisdom of Major League Baseball. For all the talk about new stadiums, there was barely a whisper out of Oakland.


Oakland Mayor Libby Schaff and A's mascot Stomper raise the A's flag at City Hall

A Commitment to Oakland

A funny thing happened in 2017. Just as the Warriors were breaking ground on Chase Arena in San Francisco, and the Raiders were finalizing a deal to relocate to Nevada, the Athletics recommitted themselves to Oakland. On March 27th, on the very same day that NFL owners overwhelmingly approved the Raiders move to Las Vegas, officials raised the A's team flag over Oakland City Hall at a rally to celebrate Opening Day just a week away. It was the first sign that the A's would remain in Oakland. New Team President Dave Kaval spearheaded an effort to renew talks with Oakland about constructing a new stadium with four proposed sites in mind, before ultimately choosing a waterfront park at the Port of Oakland's Howard Terminal.


Oakland's new waterfront ballpark, built in 2020, near downtown and Jack London Square

Three years later, Oakland's $636 million "Athletics Ballpark" was built on the shores of the East Bay near Jack London Square. Privately funded, the ballpark had 36,000 seats as well as expansive luxury boxes for Oakland-based corporate titans Uber, Pandora, and Kaiser Permanente, among others. Most important, Oakland still had a major league sports team.

Building a stadium was one thing, filling it was an entire thing entirely. In their final season at the Coliseum, the A's reached two million fans in attendance for just the second time in a fourteen-year span. To put that in perspective, Oakland's total attendance for 2019 was ranked 22nd in all of MLB.

There was renewed interest in the team as it was settling into its new ballpark. The team had its first winning season in five years, riding that wave all the way into the postseason where it lost in a one-game Wild Card to the Cleveland Indians. Sonny Gray, pitching in perhaps his last game in an A's uniform, surrendered just three hits to the Indians that night, but took it on the chin with a 3-2 loss in Cleveland. It wasn't quite the Hollywood ending the team was looking to take into the 2020 season, but it would have to do.

[Hendu Style]

It was a cold and wet October morning in Oakland. Dave Kaval's car was the only one in the Coliseum parking lot. The A's had already come back home from Cleveland two days earlier, saying their goodbyes and packing their bags for the offseason. Some would be back for the 2020 season at the new stadium 20 minutes up the road. Others would not.

As team president, Dave was knowing for his outgoing nature, glad-handing and striking up conversations with season ticket holders. But when it came to his players, he preferred to steer clear. "Stay in your lane" was his motto, knowing his place in the baseball universe was in the stands, not in a clubhouse. The Stanford grad wasn't born on baseball, but he loved the game. Soon after graduating with a Bachelor's degree in International Relations in 1998, he took to the road for a tour of all 30 Major League ballparks. He happened to pick the year that Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa chased down and broke Roger Maris' home run record. Two years later, he he co-authored a book entitled, "The Summer That Saved Baseball."

Little did he know, he would someday become the President of the Oakland A's. He was brought on board to broker a deal with the city for a new baseball stadium, much like he had with the Earthquakes of Major League Soccer. It was an arduous three-year process, but the ballpark was close to finishing construction, right along the waterfront near Jack London Square. The stadium had cost over half a billion dollars, but with it came sweeping views of downtown Oakland and a glimpse of the San Francisco skyline from across the Bay.

Holding a sport coat over his head, Dave made the mad dash across the flooded lot to his office. The stadium had fallen into disrepair over the last decade. A true fixer-upper, but with no need to fix it, since the Coliseum would be torn down soon after the A's vacated it. But this was still home to Dave, much like the first home to a newlywed couple. This was where he got his start.

He navigated the seemingly endless tunnels within the Coliseum to his office. With no more games to be played here, it was pointless working out of there anymore. He would work from home until he could move into his new office at "Athletics Ballpark." That was the name of the stadium. It hadn't received a new moniker yet, as the A's entertained bids for corporate naming rights. Uber and Pandora had both expressed interest, and Dave would at the same time laugh and cringe at the thought of the possible names that would come with a $100 million licensing agreement. Uber Park. Pandora's Box. He was just glad GoDaddy.com wasn't also based out of Oakland.


A's President Dave Kaval

His office was not befitting of a person running a billion dollar baseball franchise. It was snug. Books and photos adorned the walls, and a modest desk was his work space. His new office would be five times this size, and he would have a desk to match it. Dave chuckled as he bounced an old bobblehead representing the small independent league he had co-founded after college, "The Golden Baseball League." Just then, a knock at the door.

"Can I come in?"

It was David Forst. Like Kaval, Forst shared the same first name, and was similarly a 40-something from a prestigious school, a former college shortstop and captain at Harvard. Since 2016, he had served as the A's General Manager, succeeding the great Billy Beane, who had been elevated to Executive Vice President of Baseball Operations.

"This will only take a moment," Forst said.

"What's up?" Kaval said, trying to get a read on his GM.

Forst had one of the most unenviable jobs in pro sports. He had inherited the job of a man who had a book, and then a movie, written about him. Brad Pitt played Billy Beane in "Moneyball," for crying out loud. On top of that, Beane was still in the organization, his shadow casting long over Forst. Despite that, he had helped build the A's into a serviceable ball club. He had made several moves that Billy would've been proud of, if only Billy could bring himself to compliment him. Forst's deal for Giants slugger Chris Shaw in 2018 resulted in a 26 home run campaign the following season, helping the A's win 85 games.

"I'll just come right out with it," Forst answered, not wasting any time. "The Boston Red Sox want me to be their GM, and I've accepted."

Kaval nearly dropped the golden retriever bobblehead on the green carpet. Was he serious? The A's were about to finally get their new ballpark and with that came higher ticket prices, more expensive luxury boxes, and, of course, a higher payroll. The first time since the 1990's, the A's were going to start spending money. The kind of money that real teams were spending.


A's General Manager David Forst

"David," Kaval said, "we're two weeks away from salary arbitration. Then the free agency period. We've got a team to put together. We've been following YOUR blueprint for the last four years. You can't leave us now!"

But he could. Forst had an out-clause in his contact that would allow him to interview and sign with one of four select teams: the Dodgers, Cubs, Yankees, and the Red Sox. Boston was coming off a disappointing 81-81 season, despite owning a $195 million payroll, which dwarfed the A's payroll for 2019 by $142 million. Or by about a rotation-full of Clayton Kershaw's. He was going to the Dark Side.

"I'm sorry, Dave, no offense, but I'm not going to make the same mistake Billy made," Forst said. "This is my chance."

Forst extended his hand. Kaval shook it, grimacing as he gave him a pat on the back. From now on, they would be sworn enemies. Beane had faced a similar fork in the road after his fabled Moneyball season in Oakland, when Boston offered him $12.5 million to run the Red Sox. He had turned them down, and the BoSox won the title two years later.

"I'd wish you luck, but you won't need it," Kaval quipped. He was right. With a starting rotation of Chris Sale, David Price, Matt Harvey, and Rick Porcello, Forst would have no problems building an instant World Series contender in Boston.

"Good luck to you, too" Forst smiled as he walked out of the office. "You'll need it more than me."

He had a point, of course. The A's best pitcher, Sonny Gray, was about to declare for free agency. Their cleanup hitter, Matt Chapman, had struck out 190 times during the 2018 season. And now Kaval had to find himself a new GM.

[GoPedro99]

This is going to be awesome!

[Hendu Style]

The day was going longer than expected for Dave Kaval. In and out, he should've been there an hour tops. Fill his box, clear out his office, and go back home. That was it. Instead, he had been blindsided by the news. David Forst was leaving his post in Oakland to take over as the new general manager in Boston. It was Sunday, October 13th, 2019. But it might as well have been Friday the 13th.

Day was turning to night now, as the rain subsided in Oakland but the storm was far from over in Dave's office. Game 5 of the American League Division Series between the Twins and Indians in Oakland was playing on his tablet. Folders that were supposed to be filed away for packing were strewn across his desk. Dave had called team owner John Fisher to break the news immediately after his impromptu talk with Forst. Fisher left it up to Kaval and executive vice president Billy Beane to come up with a candidate.

"Just let me talk to him when you guys make a decision," Fisher told Kaval as he ended the phone call hours before.

Beane didn't join the proceedings until 7 o'clock that evening, well after the rain clouds had passed the Coliseum. He sauntered into the office wearing jeans and a Dutch soccer pullover, not a drop of rain on him. It figured. In Oakland, Billy Beane practically walked on water.


Billy Beane

"Big day," Beane said as he helped himself to the pistachio nuts on Kaval's desk, nudging the golden retriever bobblehead with a slight chuckle as he slid into a seat.

"So, what's the plan?" Kaval asked. Generally speaking, Dave had answered only to ownership in the past, but Fisher had specifically requested for Kaval and Beane to work together on this one.

"I've got some names in mind," Billy responded, frisbeeing a manila folder across the desk to Dave.

Paul DePodesta was Billy's first choice. DePodesta was an assistant to Beane and was featured prominently in the book, Moneyball. He parlayed that success and notoriety into a GM role with the LA Dodgers before falling out of favor with ownership, and then had an ill-fated stint as a financial strategist with the NFL's Cleveland Browns. He was an Ivy Leaguer with a mind for numbers. If the A's were going to go back down that road, they couldn't do much better than DePodesta.

Next on the list was J.P. Ricciardi. He had long been Sandy Alderson's right-hand man, first when Alderson was Oakland's GM in the mid-1990's, and again when Sandy ran the front office for the New York Mets. In between, he had a stretch as GM of the Toronto Blue Jays, where he had the misfortune of trying to outspend the Yankees and the Red Sox in the AL East. Like DePodesta, Ricciardi also spent some time under Beane while in Oakland.

Last on the list was someone with no ties to Beane or the Athletics: Kevin Towers. The longtime GM had a successful run with the San Diego Padres from 1995-2009, and then a relatively short 5-year stretch with the Arizona Diamondbacks until 2014. He had been working as an assistant in the Reds ever since, and was clamoring for one more chance to run a front office.

"I could go with any of those three," Beane finally allowed. "Unless you've got someone else in mind."



Kaval didn't like his choices here. He had two of Billy's "Yes Men," and a third who was frankly past his prime. Dave was a Stanford grad with a Silicon Valley mind. He wanted an up-and-comer. And he didn't want a "Yes Man."

Kaval's safest bet was the team's current assistant, Dan Kantrovitz. He was an all-Ivy League shortstop at Brown University, and later ping ponged back and forth between the A's and Cardinals organizations, working his way up from international operations all the way to assistant GM under David Forst. He was the poster child for A's baseball. Forward thinking. Analytics meets old school. And he earned his way to get there.

"If we don't hire Dan, you know he'll go to Boston with Forst," Kaval sighed.

"That's hardly a reason to hire a guy," Beane weighed in. "You think he's ready?"

"Were you?" Kaval retorted.


(Left-Right) A's assistant GM Dan Kantrovitz, Former A's GM David Forst, A's Executive VP Billy Beane

Beane had succeeded Alderson as the A's GM in 1997, after a run as Sandy's assistant. Many wondered if the then 35-year-old was in over his head. He answered those questions loud and clear three years later when Oakland won 91 games are reached the postseason.

"Who else you got?" Beane said, as he rose from his chair to stretch his legs.

Kaval rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes bleary from staring at a computer screen, trying to find that diamond in the rough that he hoped would catch his eye.

"Promise not to laugh?" Kaval offered.

Beane shrugged, waiting.

"You remember that league I started out of college?" Kaval continued, as he gestured toward the "Goldie" retriever bobblehead.

"The Golden Baseball League," Beane answered. "What about it?"

"I got paired up with an engineering student at Stanford back when I was taking an entrepreneurship class in business school," Kaval said as he thumbed his way through a notebook. "Most of the class was creating high-tech outfits. Everyone was looking for the next Google or the next Ebay. That was boring. So we decided, let's make a baseball league."

Kaval stopped and focused on a page in the notebook. Inside, there was a picture of his class partner.

"Amit Patel," Kaval said with a smile. "That's our guy."

"This guy?" Beane asked incredulously. The name Amit Patel had never been on his radar before, and he was ready to swat it away before the conversation went any further.

"Amit and I made that league from the ground-up," Kaval said as he continued to look through the notes from that 2003 business school course. "On the last day of class, I pitched the idea to a venture capitalist who was visiting. He offered us a quarter of a million dollars right there, right on the spot."

"Look, Dave, you know I respect you for what you've done here," Beane said. "You're the whole reason we got a new stadium, and you've had some brilliant ideas since you came on board. But this ain't one of 'em. This isn't the time to take a stroll down memory lane."



Just then, the announcer on the ALDS broadcast was going nuts. Minnesota's Tommy Pham had just delivered the game winning run, on a one-out double in the bottom of the 12th. The Twins had beaten the Indians 5-4, to reach the ALCS. Their first since 2002, when they lost to the eventual World Series Champion Angels.

"You've got it all wrong," Kaval said coolly. "This isn't about getting a job for an old friend. This guy just sees things differently. The things he was talking about back then... it was so ahead of its time."

Patel, as it turns out, was using WAR (Wins Above Replacement), UZR (Ultimate Zone Rating), and a host of other formulas in the early 2000's to build theoretical dream lineups on his home computer. He was applying his studies in Industrial Engineering to maximize efficiency on the baseball field and within the structure of a sports organization. Mind you, this was just as Beane's efforts were getting off the ground in Oakland. Industrial Engineering made Moneyball look like Small Ball. It truly was ahead of the curve.

"So where is this guy now?" Beane asked begrudgingly. He was at least entertaining the notion of considering him as a candidate.

"He split about ten years ago to run the family business," Kaval answered. "The league folded a couple of years later. I was in San Jose running the Earthquakes (MLS), and he was off doing God knows what in Mississippi. We haven't spoken since."

Dave folded up the notebook and placed it back in a box. It was getting late and this was going nowhere.

"Do yourself a favor," Beane finally said pointedly to Kaval. "When we talk to Fisher, don't bring up this Patel guy. He'll laugh you right out of the room. I'll give you Kantrovitz. Or give me one of my guys. I don't care. But this Stanford guy... he's off the list."

[Hendu Style]

Dave Kaval and David Forst had laid a solid foundation for what was supposed to be a monumental year in Oakland A's baseball. Attendance was up. Revenue was up. They had reached the postseason. Everything had fallen perfectly into place as the team transitioned to a new ballpark and a new era of A's baseball.

So why did Dave suddenly feel like everything was falling apart?

Kaval left the parking lot, boxes packed neatly in the backseat of his company car. In the rear view, he barely acknowledged leaving the Coliseum for the last time. There was work to be done. Billy Beane had put his cards on the table. Pick any one of four guys: DePodesta, Ricciardi, Towers, Kantrovitz.

JUST DON'T PICK PATEL.

His entire life, Dave Kaval hated being told what to do. It's how he put himself through school at Stanford. It's how he created an independent baseball league straight out of college. It's how he got a stadium built in Oakland.

"Screw it," Dave said as he called his assistant.

"Denise, I'm sorry to be calling you so late," he said apologetically, checking over his shoulder as merged onto I-880. "I need you to get me on a plane to Laurel, Mississippi... Yeah, tonight."

Dave's adrenaline was pumping. He noticed the car was humming along at a breakneck speed, and backed off the gas. He was on his way to a private runway at Oakland International to use John Fisher's personal jet. The drive was so short from the Coliseum that Kaval had to wait for a pilot to arrive. As he waited, he scanned the Stanford alumni directory on his phone to track down any info he could about his long-lost friend and classmate. All he could find was an address. That, and a graduation year. That was it.

It was all coming back to him. The memories of building the GBL together. The San Diego Surf Dawgs. The Chico Outlaws. Those were the days. Back when they charted a course for the league, Kaval and Patel were just in their mid-20's, Dave four years his senior. That would put Amit at 39. What had he been doing for the last ten years?

The pilot arrived on the runway, coffee in hand. It was now past midnight. Dave's wife and two daughters were fast asleep back home in Menlo Park. He had called Karen to tell her of his plans to visit his old college friend. He promised he would be home by tomorrow night.

"Mr. Kaval," the pilot said as he rose his cup and trotted up the stairs to the plane, "Let's get you to Mississippi."

[Hendu Style]

So much had happened since Dave Kaval became the Oakland A's Team President. When he was named the president on November 17th, 2016, he was just the seventh person to hold that role in team history. The team had suffered through two of their worst seasons in twenty years, going 68-94 in 2015 and 69-93 in 2016. His job was to reach out to fans on how to improve the product, and engage civic leaders on building a new ballpark. And he had to do this while the team's payroll continued to take a dive. Talk about a hard sell.

In 2017, his first season as the A's President, Oakland's payroll was a meager $76 million. That number dropped another $12 million to $64 million the following season. Amazingly, the payroll fell another $9 million to $55 million during their recently completed playoff campaign in 2019. All the while, attendance kept creeping higher, from 1.7 million fans in 2016 to a modest 2 million in 2019. Many would say Kaval was the reason why.

He immediately established open hours for fans to come to his office and voice any concerns or provide feedback about the fan experience. He revamped the team's annual "Fan Fest," making it free to the public and holding it in Jack London Square (he also shrewdly made it an opportunity to study traffic flow as it related to a potential new ballpark in the area). He initiated a ground breaking $19.99 monthly app that allowed fans to come to as many games as they wanted during a given month. This was all done in just his first six months on the job. Food trucks were brought to the parking lot for games. Batting practice was opened to the public. The tarp was pulled from the third deck. Dave Kaval was making the A's relevant again.

Assessing the Competition

Of course, the A's didn't live in a vacuum in the three years they were biding their time to move into a new stadium. World Series contenders rose and fell like baseballs in batting practice. The Kansas City Royals had slipped to two 100+ loss seasons in three years. The San Francisco Giants had lost ground on the Los Angeles Dodgers in the NL West.

The AL West, as the A's well knew, belonged to the Texas Rangers. GM Jon Daniels had assembled a power-hitting lineup featuring four perennial 30-home run/100 RBI batters in Nomar Mazara, Joey Gallo, Rougned Odor, and Carlos Santana. They had surpassed 90 wins in three of the last four years, while winning the 2018 World Series.

Boston was coming off a disappointing season, prompting the decision to bring in David Forst as the team's new GM. Forst had inherited a team with four .300 hitters during the regular season, and a pitching staff loaded with four potential aces. The Red Sox were in their championship window, and the rest of the American League knew it.

In the National League, the Pittsburgh Pirates had taken a pair of A's expatriates -- Josh Donaldson and Stephen Vogt -- and turned themselves into a legitimate contender. The had slowly rebuilt their team from after a sub-par 2016 season (78-83) into a team that won the NL Central in 2019 (97-66).

But the Chicago Cubs reigned supreme. They were beginning their fifth straight postseason, and taking aim at a third World Series Championship in four years. Virtually their entire team was in the prime of their career, and they had the money at their disposal to add even more weapons in the offseason. This is what the A's were up against.


The kings of the AL West, the Texas Rangers


The champions in waiting, the Boston Red Sox


The surprising Pittsburgh Pirates


The once lovable losers turned baseball dynasty, the Chicago Cubs

[Hendu Style]

David Kaval stood at the doorstep of his college friend and former business partner, and he had no clue what he was going to say. He had plenty of time to think about it, catching a four-hour red eye flight from Oakland to New Orleans. He had learned mid-flight that Amit Patel had lost the family business in Laurel, Mississippi, and had moved to an apartment in the French Quarter. He didn't know the circumstances, but he knew Amit didn't have a job.

"Dave?" Patel exclaimed as he opened the door, greeting his dumbstruck visitor. "Well, don't just stand there, give me a hug, man!"

Surprised, the two shared a warm embrace. Eleven years ago, Amit had stunned his Golden Baseball League co-founder by leaving California to go run the Patel family business back home in Laurel. Hurt, Dave had some choice words for Amit, despite knowing the league had run its course. Apparently time had healed those wounds.

Amit was a self-confessed nerd in college, but he always wore it well. Now he had come out of his shell. Dave couldn't help but notice how grown up his former classmate looked. Amit welcomed him inside and the two sat down on a beat-up couch.

"So what brings you all the way out to New Orleans?" Amit asked. "We don't have to redo that class project, do we?"

The two shared a laugh until Dave finally spoke. He didn't have a lot of time to exchange pleasantries. It wouldn't be long before A's owner John Fisher would start asking why Dave had "borrowed" his private jet to fly to the South.

"You remember when you used to put together those 'Dream Teams' back in college?" Kaval asked.

Patel would spend hours and hours on his laptop, creating formulas and crunching numbers, building Super Teams of MLB baseball players, past and present. It was a hobby for him, but it also gave him insight on how to see things no one else could see."

"I was wondering if you could look at my team," Dave continued.

"Your team?" Patel responded. "The A's? Sure!"

Patel jumped out of his chair and hurried to his laptop on the kitchen table, with an amused Kaval in toe. The apartment was filled with baseball memorabilia and mementos from his past. Dave couldn't help but notice the "Goldie" bobblehead from the GBL sitting on top of the fridge.

"You still have this thing?" Dave remarked as he bobbed the head up and down. "Me too."

"Okay, let's look at what you've got," Amit said, loading up the Oakland A's roster on Baseball Reference.

He spent a good five minutes in silence, clicking player links and scribbling down notes.


The 2019 Oakland A's

"Give it to me straight, doc," Dave joked. "Are we going to make it?"

Amit winced, apparently not exactly liking what he saw.

"Honestly, your team kind of sucks, man," Amit said without expression. "You allowed more runs than you scored, your team didn't get on base, and you stunk at drawing walks."

Patel paused briefly, and then out of left field he asked, "What's your dimensions for your new stadium? Do you know what your park factor will be roughly?"

Questions continued to pour out of Amit's mouth, Dave answering in rapid fire until Patel was finally done.

"You're going to lose between 84 and 87 games next year," Amit stated bluntly. "And that's assuming you get Gray back. You're going to get Sonny back, aren't you? You should re-sign him. If you don't, you'll lose more than 90. Guaranteed."

Anyone else would've either decked Patel, or walked out the door. But Kaval knew the genius of the man. Even worse, he knew he was right.

"Hypothetical: You're the A's GM," Dave posited. "What would you do?"

"Oh, that's easy. First thing I'd do is get rid of Sean Doolittle. He's a flyball pitcher in a small stadium. I'd trade him for a new shortstop."

A new shortstop? The cornerstone player of the franchise was a shortstop. Franklin Barreto, the lone bright spot in the ill-fated Josh Donaldson trade in 2014, was coming off a break through season in which he batted a career-high .288 while stealing 25 bases. And Doolittle? He led the AL with 41 saves in 2019 and posted a 1.80 ERA.

"Move Barreto to second base, you can hide him there," Patel continued without missing a beat. "Your guy at second is a hell of a hitter but a horrible fielder. I'd DH him. Either that or throw him in right field."

The A's starting second baseman was Max Schrock, who only led the team with a .333 batting average in his second season in the majors. And the designated hitter role was spoken for. Chris Shaw was a shrewd pick up by the Oakland front office the year before, paying out with a 26 home run, 85 RBI season.

"You've got Shaw there, but I'd trade him for a reliever," Patel said as he continued his baseball sermon. Then he pointed at his screen, gesturing towards different names, telling Kaval which players to trade and which ones to give more at bats. He produced a list of woefully underrated and undervalued players on opposing teams as well.

Dave had seen enough. He was sold.

"Amit Patel, how would you like to be the next General Manager of the Oakland A's?"

[Hendu Style]

The question hit Amit like a fastball on the earflap. He didn't see it coming. Sure, he had wondered what life would've been like had he not parted ways with Dave Kaval and the Golden Baseball League.

"Dave, I appreciate the gesture," said Amit, turning his focus from the computer screen to Kavel. "But I don't need any charity."

"With all due respect, Amit, how much are you making right now?" asked Kaval, as he sized up his prospective GM. "60-70 thousand a year? You'd be making three times that at least. This is your dream job. What have you got to lose?"

The truth was, Amit had nothing to lose. It had been a long road from his days with the GBL after he had returned home to Mississippi to run the family's manufacturing business. He had run the business well, until an ill-fated decision to acquiesce to workers' demands for a generous pay increase. The alternative was robotic automation on the assembly lines, which would've been disastrous for the local economy in Laurel, Mississippi. Two years later, the conglomerate folded, shuttering not only the Patel family business, but practically the entire town of 20,000 as well.

Amit had retreated to New Orleans to start a new life, as a project engineer for a Louisiana-based Oil & Gas firm, looking for a new life. Baseball was never even a consideration. Self-doubt was creeping in.

"All of my ideas... they're just ideas," said Amit, as he looked for a way to let Dave off the hook. "There's no way to tell if all this would actually work."

"There's only one way to find out," Kaval retorted. "You've always dreamed of running a baseball team. I'm offering you a job. Will you take it?"

Amit gave his old classmate a wry smile and gave him a nod.

"Why not?" said Amit, shaking Dave's hands. Patel was sold. Now all Kaval had to do was sell John Fisher and Billy Beane.

[Hendu Style]

The flight back from home from New Orleans was filled with anticipation and dread. Dave Kaval knew he had the right man for the job, but the words of Billy Beane ringed around his head like a lotto ball. Who was he to disagree with Billy? Dave was a promoter. Billy was a GM. The GM. How could he possibly win any argument with Billy Beane when it came to building a baseball team?

Still, Dave reminded himself that he was a great judge of talent and character, and he knew that the A's needed new blood in their front office. All Billy offered were company men and retreads. As Dave stepped off the plane in Oakland, he received a text from the team owner, John Fisher:

Heard you found someone.

Meet me at my office.

The drive across the Bay Bridge from Oakland to Fisher's office was just about as long as the flight from Louisiana. At least it felt like it for Kaval. It was Monday, and it was rush hour in San Francisco. As he crossed the Bridge, he could see the Giants' ballpark, every bit magnificent as it was nearly 20 years before. He zipped a text to Amit Patel while he waited at a stop light, with the iconic Transamerica Pyramid looming over San Francisco's financial district:

Be ready. May conference you soon.

Kaval caught the elevator to the 44th floor to Fisher's office, which was more of just a place to get outside the house and clear his head. John Fisher didn't work so much as he collected. Antiquities, assets, baseball teams. With his team about to move into a state-of-the-art stadium in Oakland, the A's were Fisher's flavor of the month.

"Smooth ride on my jet?" asked Fisher as he waved Kaval into his expansive office.

"Sorry about that," explained Kaval. "I felt it was necessary."

Fisher gestured him over to his desk, pouring a cup of hot tea. He offered a cup for Kaval, who politely declined.

"Dave, you know how I made my money, right?" asked Fisher. Kaval, of course, knew the answer. Fisher was the son of Doris Feigenbaum Fisher and Don Fisher, the co-founders of Gap. He hadn't exactly made his money. He inherited it.

"My parents built something pretty incredible, all from the ground up," Fisher continued, stirring his cup. "They opened up their first jeans store on in 1969. Right here in San Francisco. Cost them $60,000 to open it, and they had $2 million in sales two years later.

"I've always waned to build something like that for myself. But all I've done is bought. I've never built. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Kaval did not. Maybe it was the flight back and forth to Louisiana, or maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Dave was in no mood for riddles or hyperbole.

"We're building something new in Oakland with this team," Fisher sighed whimsically as he peered out the office window across the Bay. "This is my legacy. I want people to look back at what I did, keeping the A's in Oakland, building a new stadium, winning a championship. That's what I want them to remember about John Fisher."


A's majority owner John Fisher

Fisher was only 58 years old, so he wasn't exactly on his death bed. But Kaval could tell that the owner felt that he was at a very important fork in the road. The stadium was just the first step. The A's had to build a winner. The Giants had owned the Bay Area for decades. This was the A's turn. This was Fisher's turn.

"Billy doesn't like the guy you picked," said Fisher as he turned his attention back to Kaval. "Not one bit. And I've got to say, I looked at the guys Billy recommended, and they seem solid. He thinks they can build a winner within three years."

Fisher then leaned on his desk, right in front of Kaval.

"What can your guy do?"

Without speaking, Dave dialed Amit Patel, who answered on the first ring.

"Amit, you're up," said Dave, putting the phone on speaker.

"Mr. Fisher, I'll be brief," Amit began. "You have a dysfunctional organization in dire need of structure, and I want to fix it."

Amit explained how the team needed a new team for its new stadium, transitioning from a speedy outfield to a Gold Glove infield. From a team of no-names to marketable stars. From a pretender to a contender.

"I will get you a superstar player within one month, and I will stay within whatever budget constraints you give me," said Patel, almost matter-of-fact. "I will also remove any inefficiencies that I may find within your organization, whether that's in your minor league coaching staffs or in your front office. Simply put, Mr. Fisher, I will build a first of its kind baseball team that will be run like a billion dollar empire. And we will take no prisoners."

Kaval couldn't hide the smile on his face, and Fisher grinned too. If this job interview was an at-bat, Patel had just crushed the ball 500 feet into the Bay.

"We'll be in touch," said Fisher, barely waiting for Kaval to hang up the phone as he continued. "He's hired. Start him at a quarter of a million. But there's a catch."

"What's that?" Kaval wondered aloud.

"He's got to take Billy Beane as his assistant."

[GoPedro99]

This is truly amazing so far. Keep up the great work!!!

[Hendu Style]

Amit Patel arrived at his new office in Jack London Square, just a stone's throw from his new employer, the Oakland A's, and their soon-to-be-constructed waterfront park. The team had provided him with a modest office space to conduct day-to-day operations while the new stadium and adjoining offices and infrastructure were being completed. While construction on the ballpark was nearing completion, Amit was just beginning to lay the groundwork on the team he had inherited from David Forst.

Billy Beane had reluctantly taken on a role as the team's "Assistant GM." In truth, he was more of a fail safe, just in case the Patel experiment didn't work out. Patel was an unknown, and team owner John Fisher was taking a big risk in hiring him. Beane was "Plan B."

It was late October, and Game 4 of the World Series was about to begin. The Chicago Cubs had taken a 2-1 series lead over the Minnesota Twins as the Cubs inched closer to a third championship in four years. The Cubs were the model everyone in baseball was chasing: homegrown talent and seemingly infinite payroll. It was not lost on Amit that Chicago's starting shortstop, Addison Russell, was once the future of Oakland A's baseball, but was dealt away in a desperate attempt to bring Oakland a title in 2014. The A's were never the same after that.


Former A's prospect Addison Russell

The offseason was looming large and there were tough decisions that lay ahead for the A's front office. Ace pitcher Sonny Gray was about to hit free agency, as was outfielder Khris Davis. Sean Doolittle had a team option for the final year of his contract. With all of the other impending free agents included, Oakland had just a scant $36 million on the books for 2020. This was coming down from the A's payroll of $52.7 million in 2019, third-lowest in all of baseball. This was good news for Amit, but it also meant there would be plenty of holes to fill on the roster.

The clock was ticking on Amit's promise to land an All-Star, and there were other expectations from Fisher as well. He insisted that Doolittle be signed to a contract extension. Amit hoped the team option would suffice for the time being. Fisher also demanded that the A's acquire a hometown player, and improve the team's meager offense that finished 14th out of 15 teams in the AL in runs scored in 2019.

It was too early to initiate trade talks with the World Series still going, but Amit was already quietly gauging the market for Sean Doolittle. Teams were eager to line up and "take advantage" of the green GM. But Amit was sure he could weed through the bum offers and find a good one when the time came.

Amit also had to carefully handle the team's gameday staff. Bob Melvin had just finished the last year of his contract and was expecting a pay raise after guiding the team to a surprising 85-win campaign. His bench coach's contract was up to. So was Eric Kuboda, the A's longtime scouting director. Amit had promised to "take no prisoners" in his fiery interview speech with Fisher. Did that include cleaning house on the A's staff?

All was quiet on the Beane front. The two had exchanged pleasantries during an introductory press conference, Billy providing false modesty in being there to help out a young protege who had supposedly always been on his radar. Both Billy and Amit knew this was a bald-faced lie, but they had to carry out the company line so the press didn't sense any internal friction. The fact of the matter was that Billy and Amit had barely spoken. Beane was out of town on vacation in Mexico for Patel's first day on the job. It wasn't a good sign for two men who were supposed to be working side-by-side in the A's front office.

[Hendu Style]

Game 6 of the World Series was on the big screen at the local sports bar. Amit Patel and Dave Kaval had decided to meet up to watch the Cubs-Twins game, so they could catch up and prepare for what figured to be a very big offseason. Billy Beane had also been invited, but neither Amit nor Dave ever heard back. With or without Billy, the game was getting good, and the Twins were getting close to winning the title. Catcher J.R. Murphy had just drilled a 2-run homer to give Minnesota a 7-1 lead in the 7th inning.

Amit was mulling the future of Bob Melvin. The skipper had fared well in Oakland, leading the team to back-to-back 90+ win seasons. But that was in 2012 and 2013. Since then, the A's had just two winning seasons to show for it. Like Patel, Kaval also wondered what kind of fit Melvin would be for the kind of team Amit had been envisioning.

"Do you find a coach to fit the personnel?" Amit asked during while Cubs manager Joe Maddon visited the bullpen to call in righty Bruce Rondon on TV. "Or do you find personnel to fit the coach?"

"I don't think there's a hard and fast answer," Dave answered as he reached for a handful of popcorn. "But you've got to commit to one or the other. It rarely works trying to do both."

Making a decision on the manager, though, wasn't the only thing on Amit's mind. He was contemplating a trade offer from former A's GM David Forst. Boston was very interested in Sean Doolittle and making him the Red Sox new closer. But Amit knew the move would anger team owner John Fisher, who had a mandate that the team ink Doolittle to an extension. Only problem was, Doolittle's agent had started contract talks with a preposterous $18 million a year asking price. They were looking to capitalize on Doolittle's league-leading 41 saves in 2019. Amit also had pictured Doolittle in several other potential trade packages, as he tried to deliver on the promise of bring an All-Star to Oakland for the start of the 2020 season. But it would take much more than a 30-something left-handed reliever to land the kind of player Amit was hoping to acquire, and he knew it.

Amit and Dave spent the next hour talking about what any two guys would talk when watching baseball in a bar. They talked about Kevin Durant opting out of his contract with the Warriors to return to the Oklahoma City Thunder. They spoke about Derek Carr's MVP season with the Raiders in Las Vegas. And they discussed the far flung trade offers Amit was fielding as a first-year GM.

They turned their attention to the TV as the Twins dog piled on infield at Wrigley, celebrating an unlikely World Series championship. Minnesota had won the title under Joe Vavra, a longtime bench coach with the team until the front office decided to promote him in place of manager Paul Molitor. At that moment, Amit knew what he had to do.

"Chip Hale," Amit said with a smile.


The Twins win the 2019 World Series

[Hendu Style]

Chip Hale was a former A's third base coach, and before that was the manager for the Arizona Diamondbacks in 2015-16. He was from San Jose, so the local media would love him. And he was a defensive-minded coach, aligning with Amit Patel's philosophy of creating a cohesive defensive infield to keep scores relatively low in the A's new bandbox. Chip was the perfect candidate to take over for Bob Melvin.

The hiring barely made waves in the midst of the MLB postseason awards season. Sean Doolittle finished as runner-up for the AL Reliever of the Year award, strengthening his trade value if the A's were to deal him in the offseason. Kelvin Herrera took NL honors as San Francisco's new closer, supplanting Nate Jones and his NL-leading 44 saves from 2018. Amit was keeping an eye on all of it, knowing Doolittle's place in the reliever hierarchy could be the key to a blockbuster trade.


MLB headlines for the day Chip Hale was named the A's new manager

Amit had been speaking to the Giants about acquiring Jones, but wanted to move Doolittle before he went any further in talks. Jones carried with him a salary of $5.1 million for 2020, plus a team option for 2021. The A's couldn't afford to have two relievers with that kind of price tag in one season, and Amit wanted to make sure the closer role was actually available for Jones to take. He wanted to get the go-ahead from his new skipper.

"What do you think about Nate Jones?" Amit asked as the two sat down in Patel's office.

"I like him a lot," Chip answered. "He'd be a great setup guy for us."

"I didn't mean as a setup man," said Amit, trying to gauge Chip's reaction to the implication he was making.

"I don't think Doolittle would like that very much," Chip began, and then followed up with a raised eyebrow, "Unless you were going to trade him."

Chip knew exactly where Amit was going with this. Patel was seriously considering trading their star closer.

"I suppose if I had to choose between Doolittle and Jones, I'd take 'Doo,'" Chip said. "But Jones would be one hell of a replacement, especially if you could get us some bats for Doolittle."

"This stays between us," Amit said as he leaned in to his new manager, "But I'm getting some interesting offers for Doolittle. The kind of offers that could turn around our offense real quick."

Just then, Amit got an alert on his phone. Their up-and-coming center fielder, Jeren Kendall, had just been named AL Rookie of the Year. Kendall was the team's #6 overall draft pick in 2016, and he was considered to be the future of the A's organization, along with shortstop Franklin Barreto.

"Congrats, Chip," Amit said proudly as he showed the alert to his manager, "You've got a Rookie of the Year in your lineup. Now I'm going to try to get you an MVP."


2019 AL Rookie of the Year, Jeren Kendall

[PFCtaylor]

Looking good so far hopefully you guys can do well.

Sent from my SM-J700T1 using Tapatalk

[hqbaseball]

This is a great read! You've done a good job writing an interesting story

[Hendu Style]

The first free agency period of Amit Patel's General Managerial career was fast approaching. Though he didn't figure the A's would be a prominent player in free agency, he did want to use this time to make his moves to change the complexion of the team. That meant upgrading the entire infield defense, finding one or two home run hitters for the lineup, and outfitting the staff with ground ball pitchers. Free agent-to-be Sonny Gray was a big part of that plan.

Gray was once a can't-miss prospect, pitching in the postseason in his rookie season at the age of 23. The next two seasons were met with a total of 28 wins and over 300 strikeouts. Unfortunately for Gray and the A's, he never recaptured that magic over the next four seasons, with his ERA floating between 4.09 and 5.69. Still, Amit had high hopes for Sonny. He was an extreme ground ball pitcher, and his approach would be well-suited for the A's new stadium. Gray was primed for free agency, yet he was still receptive to staying in Oakland on an extension. They were in the same ballpark, with Gray asking for $13 million per over 7 years, and the A's looking for a more club friendly $11 million per over 4. They were far apart, but there was still middle ground to be found.

Amit had called a lunch meeting with Gray and his new manager, Chip Hale, in hopes of convincing Sonny that they were on the verge of something special in Oakland. He chose "Phat Matt's BBQ," a Southern-style restaurant on Telegraph Avenue in Oakland. Amit figured it would be a good choice for the Smyrna, Tennessee native and he would feel right at home.

"Thank y'all for taking me out for lunch," Sonny said as he dug into his basket of barbecue ribs. "I'm guessin' it's my treat the next time."

It surely would be. Whether he signed an extension or as a free agent, Gray was due a payday of $40 million. At the very least.

"Sonny, I see big things for you next year with us," Amit began. "I plan on giving you plenty of offensive support, and an infield that's going to make you a Cy Young contender and the ace of our staff."

"Of course," Chip interrupted, "you'd have to earn your way into the rotation just like everyone else."

Sonny almost choked on his side of coleslaw at what Hale just said. "Earn your way into the rotation?"

"I think what Chip is trying to say is that things are going to be very competitive next season," Amit interjected. "You'll be our ace, but you're going to be one of many great pitchers on our staff."

Amit, though, had no real plans of upgrading the starting rotation. But he was trying to keep things cordial with Sonny.

"Look, I don't want any special treatment," Sonny said as he looked at Amit, and then turned his attention to Chip. "But I earned my way on to this staff seven years ago. I paid my dues. I'll be the ace wherever I go."

"Sonny---" Amit began, before getting cut off again by Hale.

"Hey man, as far as I'm concerned, everyone's starting from scratch with me," Chip bluntly said. "I want 100% from each and every guy in the clubhouse, starting in Spring Training and right into next season. If you want the big payday, you're going to have to accept certain things, and I'm going to be leaning on you to be one of our clubhouse leader."

Sonny got up from his chair and looked at Amit.

"Sorry, but I just don't think this is going to work out," Sonny said, adding, "Good luck next season."


Sonny Gray, former Oakland Athletic

And just like that, the A's lost the biggest free agent signee for the upcoming season. Amit couldn't believe it. They were a few million and a few years off on an extension. Worst case scenario, he thought, they would get him signed in free agency. Sonny Gray was going to be the bridge to the future for Oakland A's baseball. And now he was gone.

"That went well," Chip said as he got up and tossed his napkin to the table. "We'll be better off without him."

That night, Amit couldn't sleep. It was the eve of free agency. He had just lost the ace of his staff. Always move forward, he reminded himself. On the plus side, that freed up another $10-12 million for prospective free agents. The plan remained unchanged. Upgrade the infield defense. Get power hitters. Focus on ground ball pitchers.

Still, Amit went to sleep that night wondering, had he hired the wrong manager?


New A's skipper Chip Hale

[Hendu Style]

With Sonny Gray off the ledger, the Oakland A's had just $44.7 million in salary committed to the upcoming 2020 season. That included the $6.5 million team option on Sean Doolittle, and extensions for pitchers Jacob Turner and Joba Chamberlain. In the days leading up to free agency, Amit Patel had encouraged team owner John Fisher to double down on the A's financial commitment to scouting and development. Despite that $16 million increase, the team still had roughly $27 million available for free agents.


Oakland A's team salary for 2020-2025. At $6.5 million, Sean Doolittle was the team's highest-paid player

The A's tendered a $15 million qualifying offer to Gray, which he declined to become a free agent. The move allowed the A's to receive compensation if and when he signed with another team. They also allowed outfielder Khris Davis to walk and become a free agent.

Besides Arizona Diamondbacks first baseman Paul Goldschmidt (.298, 31 HR, 105 HR in 2019) and Boston Red Sox pitcher Chris Sale (8-15, 5.46 ERA in a very off 2019), there weren't many top tier stars available in free agency. But baseball was abuzz about two Japanese players who had filed for free agency in 2019: 1B Sueo Mihara and RF Daisuke Imamura.


Japanese imports Sueo Mihara and Daisuke Imamura

Mihara's power was off the charts, rated at 80/80 by Oakland scouts. Only Texas 3B Joey Gallo was rated that high, and he was coming off a 54 home run campaign for the Rangers. Imamura was charted as a 70/80 in both contact and eye/discipline, making him a surefire .300 hitter/.450 OBP in the majors. In Japan, he was already drawing comparisons to the great Ichiro, but with more plate discipline.

Luckily for Amit, both seemed amenable to coming to the Bay Area in the unlikely event the A's attempted to pursue them. The same could not be said for several other candidates. Francisco Liriano, Ivan Nova, and Tyson Ross flatly turned the A's down because Chip Hale was their manager. More personality clashes had cost the A's even more potential additions for the offseason.

That would have to wait, though, as Amit had no plans to enter the free agent fray this early in the game. Opportunity was knocking with several other possibilities. If the A's weren't going to make a splash in free agency, Patel was determined they would make their move in other ways.

[Hendu Style]

Because this is real-time, I'd love to get your guys input on any moves to make. Should I go after one of these Japanese players? Mike Trout is scheduled to become a free agent next season. Should I save my money for him in 2021? I have some trades in the works, but I want to make this interactive too. So feel free to weigh in!

I have the AI trade settings cranked up all the way to "Very Hard" and "Favor Prospects," so I'm going to have my work cut out for me. But I think you'll be very happy with some of the trades I have in the works...

[PFCtaylor]

Go after a Japanese player cause what hales and trouts personalities clash.

Sent from my SM-J700T1 using Tapatalk

[Hendu Style]

During their time running the Golden Baseball League, Dave Kaval and Amit Patel had created a formula to predict attendance at each of their ballparks. Using polling data of fans and non-fans, they were able to calculate "Fan Interest" on a scale of 1-100, to help them set budgets and dictate ticket prices. Kaval was using an updated version of the formula for the Oakland A's, and the results were troubling.


Oakland A's Fan Interest heading into 2020 offseason

With the announcement that Sonny Gray was becoming a free agent, Fan Interest was trending downward to 68. By their calculations, the A's needed a rating close to 90 to sell out on a consistent basis throughout the season. Simply put, the A's needed to do something drastic to move the needle.

On day one of Free Agency, Patel was positioned to make his first trade. And it was a big one. He had been going back and forth with David Chernoff, General Manager of the Cleveland Indians. Chernoff had started the talks by inquiring about second baseman Max Schrock. In his first full season in the majors, Schrock had led the American League in batting average at .333. With a contract under team control through 2023, Schrock was considered untouchable. But that didn't stop Chernoff from asking, and it didn't discourage Patel from scheming.

Amit wanted a slick-fielding, hard-hitting infielder to usher in a new era of baseball in Oakland. The plan was to acquire a new shortstop, and move Franklin Barreto over to second base. Cleveland happened to have the best shortstop in the AL in Francisco Lindor. Problem was, even if the Indians would sign off on a deal, Lindor had just been inked to a 7-year, $88 million extension the month before. There was no way Oakland's ownership was going to take on that kind of payroll.

Still, Amit didn't let that stop him. He dangled Barreto, the A's other prized infielder. Barreto hit .288 with 33 doubles, 11 home runs, and 25 stolen bases in his third season.

"Are you with me?" Chernoff exclaimed during the phone call with Patel. "You'd be willing to trade Schrock and Barreto? Amit, I don't want to be known as the GM who got you fired one after one month on the job. Is this a joke?"

But Patel was not joking. With the Indians GM taking the bait, Amit set the hook.

"I want Francisco Lindor," Patel calmly stated, as if he hadn't just asked for a 3-time All-Star who had just set career highs in batting average (.313), home runs (27), and RBI (95).

Chernoff just about dropped the phone, except for the fact that he was just about to get the two best young middle infielders in baseball, and at a paltry $1.4 million in salary for the upcoming season.

"There's no way I'm trading you Lindor," Chernoff replied. "He's untouchable."

"Everyone has a price," Patel said. "The price for Barreto and Schrock is Francisco Lindor."

"Let me call you back," Chernoff finally answered. "Amit, are you for real?"

"Yep," Amit said with a sly grin.


Cleveland Indians All-Star Shortstop Francisco Lindor

Patel's heart was racing. Was he just about to land the All-Star that had been promised to his owner? His cell phone rang. He was about to find out.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Chernoff said, "But I'll consider it if you throw me a couple more players."

"What did you have in mind?"

"A reliever and a prospect," answered Chernoff. "I'll give you a list and let you pick."

The list of prospects was pretty thin, considering most of the A's minor leaguers had by this point reached the majors. 21 year-old Edward Cabrera was one of the choices. So was Akil Baddoo, a high A-ball center fielder the A's had acquired from the Twins the year before.

The list of relievers at least was much more palatable. Michael Bush, Simon Castro, Joba Chamberlain, Frankie Montas, Bobby Wahl, and Sean Doolittle. Doolittle was off limits. Patel had other plans for him. Chamberlain seemed like the obvious choice. He was the most expensive of the ones on the list outside of Doolittle, and was projecting as a middle reliever going into Spring Training.

"I'll give you Joba and Cabrera," Amit said after a long pause. "But you've got to pay part of Lindor's salary."

The two went back and forth on numbers, until finally Chernoff acquiesced and agreed to 30%. The Indians would pay 30% of Lindor's salary for each of the next seven years. The deal was done. All they had to do was get owner approval. But for Amit, this also meant an extra hurdle: Billy Beane had to sign off on it.