Mitra's Last Hustle, page 10
part #3 of Fastball Series
“Dad, the game hasn’t started yet. He’s just warming up. His curveball is coming in at different speeds and angles. It’s one pitch but many.”
As usual, Joe was the leadoff hitter. He took a couple of practice swings and settled into the batter’s box. Bryce looked in to the catcher and then started his windup. His throw was low and outside. The catcher didn’t bother to reach for the ball, and it careened off the backstop. The second pitch was several inches above the top of the strike zone. Joe liked to swing early in the count, and I wondered what he was thinking. Then the catcher jogged out to the mound for a visit. Both Bryce and the catcher covered their mouths with their gloves during the conference. As he waited, Joe took a couple of practice swings. Bryce readied himself on the mound and started his windup. He grunted as the next throw was outside and in the dirt.
Pete’s jaw dropped. “What’s this guy doing? There are six scouts in the stands!”
I had hoped that Joe would get a chance to display his talents and get a hit against Bryce. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen today. Bryce took a couple of deep breaths and then fired a fastball over the plate but below Joe’s knees. Joe dropped his bat and elbow guard, and then jogged down to first base. Bryce looked towards home plate and screamed at the umpire. There was a moment of silence as Bryce and the home-plate umpire glared at each other.
The second batter also walked on four straight pitches. The Wave coaches looked towards the bullpen after shouting words of encouragement towards Bryce. Pete whispered in my ear, “This kid is a basket case.”
After a few seconds, the Wave pitching coach walked slowly to the mound to talk to Bryce. The infielders circled up around them. The conference seemed to go on forever before the home-plate umpire started to walk towards the huddle. In seconds, the coach turned and walked back to the dugout.
Bryce readied himself and threw a fastball that just hit the outside of the plate but bounced off of the end of the catcher’s glove. Both base runners advanced. Bryce was up in the count, but Joe’s long leadoff at third base seemed to distract him as he glanced at him several times. Then he looked in to the catcher and threw a low pitch that skidded across the right-handed batter’s box to the backstop. Joe scored standing up. Bryce looked up and screamed towards the sky.
We looked towards the Wave dugout. The head coach and pitching coach appeared to be talking. What was going to happen? In seconds, the head coach started walking slowly towards Bryce, while the pitching coach frantically waved his right arm towards the bullpen down the right-field line. As the head coach approached Bryce, he extended his hand to receive the baseball. Soon, they were face-to-face, and Bryce still held the baseball. A lengthy conversation ensued. Suddenly, Bryce turned, took a couple of steps and threw the ball over the center-field fence.
Most of the spectators appeared to be stunned. The scouts lowered their radar guns and started writing their pitching reports.
Pete leaned over. “I think Bryce may have just lost a million dollars of bonus money in next year’s draft.”
“That’s entirely possible—the display of emotion will not help him.”
Maggie interjected, “Who is going to pitch next?”
Pete looked towards the home team’s bullpen. “I think we are going to get a look at the great Steve Durso.”
Maggie nodded. “So what’s the scouting report?”
Pete smiled. “Look, I did my homework. He’s got a ninety-eight-mile-per-hour fastball, an eighty-seven-mile-per-hour changeup and a seventy-eight-mile-per-hour curveball.”
I added, “Yeah, he can change speeds and locations. This will be a big test for Joe.”
Just then a lightning bolt flashed in the sky over the beach three miles away. Then raindrops started to fall on the field and surrounding area. In seconds, the grounds crew started dragging the tarp across the field. Pete looked at the sky. “We better get in the car. This storm could be bad.”
I looked down at the West Orleans dugout. Joe carried his equipment bag on his shoulder. “We may not be able to stay until the end of the game if there is a long rain delay. Let’s go over and talk to Joe now.”
We quickly walked over to the dugout. Joe saw us, and a big smile appeared on his face. “I’m sorry your last game is probably going to be rained out. Thanks for flying out here to see me.”
Pete slapped Joe on the back. “Don’t forget all my coaching tips.”
After giving Pete a hug, Joe said, “I got some good news.”
I studied Joe’s face. “What’s that?”
“The coach had me sign a contract for the rest of the season—I won’t be coming home till August.”
Maggie hugged Joe. “I’m so happy. We knew you could do it.”
Surprisingly, the rain soon stopped, and the sun came out from behind the clouds.
Joe looked around as the umpires walked back onto the field. “Well, I better get warmed up to face the mighty Steve Durso.”
“Son, good luck. We’ll see you back in Dallas in a couple of months.”
We returned to our seats in the fourth row of the bleachers and sat down to watch the action. During the delay as the teams warmed up, Pete stood up. “I’m headed to the snack bar to get some of that clam chowder. Can I get you guys anything?”
Maggie shook her head. “Hurry back, they’re getting ready to start.”
I looked over. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
Five minutes later, Steve Durso was on the hill, and Joe readied himself in the batter’s box.
The home-plate umpire pointed at the pitcher, and the game was under way. Not surprisingly, the first pitch was a ninety-eight-mile-per-hour fastball that Joe fouled straight back. Pete leaned over. “That was the pitch to hit.”
The second pitch sailed towards the plate. Expecting another fastball, Joe was fooled by a changeup on the outside corner that was called a strike. Maggie couldn’t watch and looked down. I exhaled. “He’s got to protect the plate now.”
Joe proceeded to foul off a ninety-six-mile-per-hour fastball, a curveball and finally a changeup. Pete was totally focused on the action. “He’s staying alive!”
Durso looked in for the signal and quickly hurled another fastball on the inside corner. Joe turned on the pitch and drove a line drive to right field for a single.
Pete nodded his head. “Now that was a very respectable at-bat.”
In seconds, heavy rain started to fall, and we ran to the rental car to take cover. Sheets of rain hit the car. I turned on the ignition. “This game is rained out. Let’s get out of here.”
I looked over to Maggie. “How do I get to the Mid-Cape Highway?”
She looked down at her cell phone for directions. “Go down three blocks and turn south on Route 137.”
Fifteen minutes later, both Pete and Maggie had closed their eyes and started to snore. I turned on the radio to stay awake as we drove west on the Mid-Cape Highway towards Boston. Watching Joe play ball had been a lot of fun, and we did have some time to relax and unwind. However, I didn’t look forward to my conversation with Raj about Cape Econometrics and Program Management.
CHAPTER 31
Today was my first day back in the office after returning from my Cape vacation. I needed to clear the air with Raj. Due to several appointments in Dallas, Raj planned to arrive in the office at mid-afternoon. Our conversation could be best held off-site.
I dialed Raj’s cell. “Hello, Raj, I’m back from the Cape.”
“Great, I need to bring you up to speed on the latest J10 developments.”
“How would you like to meet me at our favorite seedy hole-in-the-wall bar?”
“Sure, the Beachcomber is as seedy as they come!”
“Does three-thirty work?”
“Sounds great. See you there.”
I arrived early at the Beachcomber at three-fifteen and secured a booth in the back that would provide a modicum of privacy as the conversation could go a lot of different directions. Without his customary tie and suit jacket, Raj strode through the entrance carrying a folder that appeared to be several inches thick. We shook hands and sat down. After staring at me for several seconds, a slight smile appeared on his face. “I hear you met my brother Puneet in Hyannis Port.”
I had to give Raj some credit as he wanted to deal with the issue head-on.
Raj leaned back. “Puneet is my older brother and the black sheep in the family—those five-dollar haircuts give us all a bad reputation.”
Laughing for several seconds, Raj appeared to appreciate his own humor. I was never one to avoid a conflict, so I took a deep breath and said, “I was surprised to see that Cape Econometrics and Program Management is headquartered in Puneet’s Indian restaurant.”
Raj put his hands on the table directly in front of him.
“I really appreciate your vigilance. That question deserves an answer. When I first rejoined National and began to set up my operation, I had to complete many information forms for the consulting firms I planned to engage. Purchasing requires it. I never dealt with Cape Econometrics and Program Management through snail mail—I always used email and bank-money transfers. I didn’t know their street address, so in order not to waste time and delay setting up the account with Purchasing I used Puneet’s business address. It was very sloppy work that I corrected a couple of days ago.”
I wasn’t sure what to think, so I decided to probe. “Okay, so what services does Cape Econometrics and Program Management provide?”
Raj nodded. “That’s a great question.” Then he opened the folder and handed me a two-inch-thick report entitled, “Macroeconomic Trends Influencing Airline Passenger Traffic.”
The weighty document contained numerous charts and tables, plus several mathematical equations with lengthy interpretations. I looked up at Raj. “So how is this report relevant to the integration effort?”
“Very relevant indeed. The concepts in this seminal treatise that I commissioned provide clear direction to the deployment of aircraft assets on our new routes. Besides, it gets me prepped for my new role at National after the integration effort is complete.”
I didn’t know what to think. “What role might that be?”
Raj smiled. “Leading Airline Planning and Finance.”
“But isn’t that under Dan’s purview?”
Raj looked around and then leaned forward across the table. In a hushed voice Raj whispered, “I wouldn’t let that guy sell my toaster.” Then he raised his eyebrows and continued, “Bill’s lost confidence in him.”
● ● ●
We were quickly two pitchers in, and Raj appeared to be feeling no pain. I took a big gulp of beer. “How does Priya like Dallas?”
“It’s strange—lately, she seems happiest when I tell her I’m leaving town on a business trip. She used to beg me to come but seems to have lost interest.”
“Really?”
Raj belched, and two truck drivers at an adjoining table laughed and gave him a thumbs-up. “Except for sex, we don’t have many common interests.”
This conversation was getting sort of personal, but it did pique my interest.
“May I ask—how did you end up marrying her?”
Raj laughed for several seconds. “You will probably be surprised to know that I led a pretty wild life when I first went to work at McKenzie and Peabody—I did everything.”
Raj leaned his head back and chugged the beer in front of him. “The managing partner told me I needed to clean up my act and settle down if I wanted to keep my job. So I married Priya. Our parents arranged it all, and the dowry was very lucrative. Our marriage was like a business transaction.”
“Ah, what did Priya think about it?”
Starting to slur his words, Raj said, “Well, let me tell you—Priya was no virgin. She bedded most of her Bollywood directors and producers, and parlayed that body into numerous roles in third-rate movies. Have you ever seen any of her movies?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Nobody has…Priya married me to start a new adventure in her life. I suppose she was looking for a sugar daddy who could provide the lifestyle that she craved.”
I laughed. “I bet it is fun to be married to a vivacious twenty-five-year-old?”
Raj raised his eyebrows. “She’s thirty-three, but tells everyone she’s twenty-five.”
I was stunned, but decided not to pursue the subject.
Raj squinted his eyes and looked at his watch. “Lonny, this has been fun, but I need to go into the office and get some work done.”
We walked out the front door. The bright sun hurt my eyes.
Raj slapped me on the back. “I’m parked at the end of the alley. I’ll see you later.”
Fortunately, I had arrived before the happy-hour crowd and secured a parking spot on the street twenty feet away. I opened the car door, started the engine and turned on the air full blast. God, it was hot. Turning on the radio, I quickly shifted through the presets—nothing worked. FM radio wasn’t what it used to be! Surprisingly, I had not seen Raj’s car emerge from the alley and pass by. I wondered what happened. Maybe he was too drunk to drive? I turned onto the road and did a U-turn to check it out.
In twenty seconds, I was in the alley. Two men wearing nylon masks surrounded Raj and bent him over. The man with the blue shirt wrapped his arms around Raj’s head and repeatedly rammed it into the side of a car. The other man wearing a gold golf shirt pounded Raj’s lower back with his fists. I didn’t have my gun, so I would need to use my car as a weapon. Blasting my horn, I steered directly at them. Both of the thugs looked up. Their eyes got wide. Either I would break up the fight and they would disperse, or they would all be roadkill. At the last minute, Raj’s attackers dove out of the way, and I barely missed Raj lying in the middle of the road. I turned around at the end of the alley to do a second pass.
By that time, the two men were in their car and headed away at a high rate of speed. I slowed down and stopped next to Raj. He looked up. “You crazy son of a bitch. You could’ve killed me.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I figured you were dead anyway, so it was all upside. Get in.”
We drove a couple of blocks, and I pulled over. “Did those guys say anything?”
“No, no, they just jumped out from behind a car in the alley and started beating me.”
I looked down the street to my right. “There’s an emergency clinic on the corner two blocks away. You’re going to need some stitches to close the head wound.”
I helped Raj out of the car, and we slowly walked to the entrance. Raj looked up. His face was a mess. “You were right—my friends in Vegas will do anything to get their money.”
CHAPTER 32
A week later, Raj poked his head into my office. “Gene Street is going to update the execs on the J10s and the Airworthiness Directive in five minutes. Let’s go!”
I studied Raj’s face—a large purple bruise was visible on the right side of his forehead and his left eye looked swollen. Raj walked with a noticeable limp as we moved towards the elevators.
After we rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, the doors opened and suddenly we were face-to-face with Cowboy Mailloux and Daryl Wannamaker. I extended my hand. “What brings you guys to headquarters?”
Cowboy reached forward and shook my hand. “We’re working with Ralph James to finalize the contractual language in the side letter governing pilot work rules and pay rates for international flying.”
“That’s great,” I responded.
Then Cowboy’s eyes shifted towards Raj. “Raj, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
Cowboy raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
Raj grimaced. “Yes, yes, I’m good.”
Cowboy shook his head. “You don’t look so good.”
Glancing down, Raj said, “Ah…I was in a minor altercation.”
Then Raj started to squirm as Cowboy took a step forward and reached up towards him to straighten his necktie. For a moment, Raj and Cowboy locked eyes. “I heard a couple of guys gave you a rock shampoo in the alley behind the Beachcomber.”
Cowboy took a couple of steps towards the open elevator door and then stopped to look back at Raj. Laughing, he said, “Take care of yourself, you knucklehead.”
Raj’s mouth dropped.
Cowboy and Daryl started to laugh as the elevator door shut.
Raj started to breathe hard and stopped for a moment to collect himself before we walked down to the end of the executive wing. Every seat at the conference-room table was already taken, so I settled into one of the seats lining the side walls. Raj sat directly across the table from President Dan McAfferty, but, not surprisingly, their eyes never met. There was bad blood between them, and many people speculated how it would end.
Only Gene Street and CEO Bill were missing. In ten minutes, Gene and Bill, chatting in hushed tones, entered the conference room.
Bill settled into his seat and looked around the room. There were several awkward moments of silence. “Gents and Ms. Horvath, I have some very bad news. Gene tells me all of our J10s do not comply with the FAA’s Airworthiness Directive. Extensive repairs to the wing engine pylon structure are required. This gets worse. Also, during the required inspections, other structural problems were identified that must be immediately addressed.”
Bill pointed at Gene. “He will fill you in on the details.”
“Bill, you’re absolutely right. We estimate the repairs will take four weeks to accomplish. A secondary consequence is that overnight hangar maintenance work planned for the rest of the fleet will have to be pushed. So, some of those aircraft may need to be grounded if part life limitations are reached. We are considering a variety of options, but the mechanics’ union is playing hardball.”
Dan gritted his teeth. “So we’re going to have to take twenty airplanes’ worth of flying out of the schedule? The revenue impacts will be staggering. What about Northern? They fly J10s. How are they responding?”
