David Ortiz opened the door to the night air. Another failed attempt at hitting. The game was over and he was free from the L.A. Ballpark.
“Hey great job Ortiz, “shouted a Red Sox fan. The sarcasm on his face said it all. David just dropped his head and walked towards the neighborhood bar. He walked inside the smoky mist. It was somewhere between a sewer and actual taste – the beer smelled fresh. He sat down at the bar.
“Mike Timlin?”
Mike turned towards David. Once a great bullpen setup man he now stood as a memory dressed subdued clothes with a subdued smile.
“David Big Papi Ortiz...how in...oh...I guess I shouldn't ask that question.”
David nodded and agreed.
“This game so strange, “said David “Either you are on top...or you're nothing and nobody can explain to you what went wrong. “
“Beer?”
David looked up. There was Mike Greenwell a former player for the Red Sox.
“Man...it's like a Red Sox reunion night. All we need is Jason Gabbard, “joked David.
“It's Kason. Every single day I have to put up with this #$#$. It's Kason!”
“No wonder he drinks!”, snickered David.
Mike Greenwell poured the beer in David's glass.
“Don't be down on yourself David. At least you're still playing...and you didn't have to put up with Joe Morgan. Nice guy and all but man he had a temper.”
David nodded. Joe Morgan was the former manager for the Red Sox. This was not to be confused with the Cincinnati legend Joe Morgan.
“I told you idiot...I'm not from the Cincinatti Reds or do your EYES not work!”
David sighed.
“So much better when Manny was here. We fed off of each other. I don't know man...it's just so hard now. ”
“2007 was a great year, “sighed Mike Timlin.
Mike Greenwell leaned forward. Kason Gabbard and Joe Morgan were once again boiling mad.
“We all have to face...”
David turned away waving his hand and sipped some more beer.
“It's Kason dammit. How many times do I have to scream it at you Michelle or is it Mickey!”
David looked over as Kason screaming at his date shaking his head.
“Oh damn...David Ortiz.”
It was sulky Bob Stanley smothered in alcohol.
“Oh man David...you're my...”
David looked down at the floor and saw Bob Stanley there.
“One of the best save records in the game and look at him, 'snapped Mike Greenwell.
“It's harder for some to give it up, “said Mike starring at the empty glass.
David looked back at Mike Timlin.
“David, if this is the last year, it's the last year. “
David gulped the beer. That wasn't helping.
“David...” said Mike Greenwell. “You're still in the game and that makes you more fortunate than all of us. I love this game as much as you. Start enjoying that time...instead of burning yourself because one day it will be over.”
“Oh for heavens sake kid. My name is NOT Jason Gabby!”
David finished off his beer and smiled.
“Ya...good point Mikey...but I tell ya...I look at Oil Can Boyd and if he keeps trying...so can I but I don't know. Two thousand seven...everything felt right even though I played hurt. Ever since then...just don't feel good anymore!”
A smashing of glasses.
A voice came in the background.
“Do I look like Joe Morgan of the Reds. I'm from Boston you idiot!”
“No...no, no, no...Jason Gayguy is way too far. My name is Jason Gabbard and I'm gonna break your head open!”
Mike leaned forward.
“Just don't end up like those two. You have a name Papi. Nobody will ever confuse who you are and you'll always be remembered. That's more than most of us get. “
David tipped his glass. The smoke filtered through the air above him and drifted into the ceiling fans.
“Well, “said David. “Maybe you're right. The night is young and the batting cage awaits. I'll get it yet!”
Everyone nodded in compliance. David walked out of the bar.
“Well Mike, “said Greenwell. “There is someone I envy.”
“Tell me about it. I'd give anything to be in his shoes.”
The room went quiet as the clock struck eleven.
“No officer...do I look like that bastard Kason Gabbard and does he look like Joe Morgan from the Cincinnati Reds that caused the bar fights. My name is Jason Gayguy....ya...that's right and this is Joe Morgan from Boston...ya...happens all the time. Just make sure Joe Morgan from the REDS gets arrested. He's bad. Have a good night.”
Mike looked at Kason and then back at Greenwell. They both smiled as Kason Gabbard and Joe Morgan winked their eyes and walked out of the bar.
Mike Timlin snickered and whispered, “I guess its all a matter of perspective!”
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