The Visionary

When Bobby smiled everybody noticed.  The work he had done was finally paying off.  They knew, they all knew how brilliant he was, he thought.  He would label himself...brilliant for all great men have labels.  No, he said to himself.  Brilliant is far to much of a cliche.  No, he needed a new word -- daring, bold, visionary.  Yes, he liked visionary.

"Good morning Mr. Valentine.  Please have a seat. "

He was all smiles as he should be.  This was no ordinary student -- this was...the visionary.  No, with capitals.  The Visionary.  No, he though.  with bold:  'The Visionary'.  No, that needed its own line.

"Mr. Valentine?'

"Oh, said Bobby, retracing his thoughts.  He was just at 24 point Arial bold with a red color when he was interrupted.

"Sorry, sir.  I was just...envisioning."

"Right. "said the counselor adjusting his glasses while mulling over the paperwork.  The file was thick with notes from pencil to paper.  Perhaps, thought Bobby, that he himself, had required the most note taking as he was...

'The Visionary'

Bobby then smiled and nodded.

"Bobby, I see you've shown interest in becoming a, and I quote, a world class heart surgeon and winner of two Nobel prizes in medicine and five humanitarian awards who also discovered the cures for Cancer and Heart Disease while inventing the Warp...Drive...rocket...are you serious? '

Bobby watched as the counselor nodded with an almost stoic smile.

"Bobby, if you had to tell someone that they were dying, that there was no cure for them, how would you do it?"


Bobby felt a bit downcast but pondered the answer.   He thought of several solutions to this perplexing question.  Of all the questions that he expected, this was not one of them.

"Ah, "thought Bobby.  "I think I would say that while death does happen, yours will happen sooner than expected.  You should probably tell your family what you want to do with yourself such as burning your body or just dumping it six feet under but know that it wasn't me who did it to you.  I save people and I don't fail.  I'm too good a doctor for that.  Must be your fault for I am



'The Visionary'


Ya, I'm OK with that answer. "


"The Visionary?  "

"Yes, its a name I invented for myself to give people around me a succinct description of me.  What do you think?"

"Bobby, have you ever been committed or received Electro Shock Treatment?"

"No, why?"

The counselor shook his head.  How quick the air went silent in the room.  The counselor adjusted his glasses and then quickly sat down and faced Bobby eye to eye.

"OK, so...let's ah...let's say you're in an airplane...as a pilot and you've discovered that the plane is going to crash. "  A long pause followed.  "What would you tell the passengers."

The Visionary thought of his answer.  He scratched his beard and rubbed his chin.  Long sentences came his way but the main thought that came through was why.

"Excuse me, but I'm not a pilot and if I was, how could I possibly do that.  I'm too good a pilot to do that."

"Just, "snapped the counselor.  "Answer the question...please."

"Oh, "said Bobby shrugging shoulders and adjusting himself in the chair.  The Visionary thought it over.

"I'd probably say something like...wait...what's the scenario.  How would the plane crash."

Bobby watched the counselor's hands grab a piece of paper and slowly tear into in.

"Bobby...just...answer...the question."

Bobby paused.

"I supposed I'd say something like...how did I go from surgeon to pilot and how did the plane...no, that makes no sense to me."

"OK, "snapped the counselor waving his hands in the air.  "Let's say you're a funeral director.  How would you comfort a family grieving over their loved one."

"Oh that's easy. 



'The Visionary'


does not run a funeral home.  Now come on, what's the problem here?"

'

"Bobby, don't you see what I'm getting at?'

"Not really."

"Bobby, "said the counselor.  "You need a career outside of people...like...computers?  Ya, shouldn't you get excited about sitting in front of a computer all day long?"

"You don't seem very motivated to help me out here.  Are you competent at your job?"

The counselor's face flushed white.  He tore the paper in half and threw it in the garbage.

"Bobby, imagine...for a moment."

"No, no imagining.  I:



'The Visionary'


proclaim that I demand to be a surgeon.  I am a surgeon.  A great surgeon and I've thought it over.  I said it wrong to that person."

A small smile wrinkled the lips of the counselor before it faded away.  He said, "OK, let's hear it."

"I would say that I'm so sorry you're going to die.  If there is any way you could live, I would do it because I am:



'The Visionary'


Don't give up though.  I don't believe in death.  I believe in Bobby Valentine and if anyone can save you...I can.  I am..


"The Visionary...I got it but do you have to wave the Bobby Valentine flag in front of me?  Please..."


Bobby leaned back.  He had made his point.  He was Bobby Valentine.


"Whatever...you do Bobby, don't become an actor or for heaven's sake, a baseball manager.  You are just not good at public relations...OK."


"No way, "said Bobby, "would I put on a uniform and play with a bunch of overgrown children.  I am not a baseball manager. "


"No kidding, "snapped the counselor before he muffled his mouth and rubbed his forehead.  His heart seemed to be beating a thousand beats per minute as sweat ran down his brow.

Bobby huffed shook his head.  He got up deciding that The Visionary didn't need a guidance counselor.  He only needed Bobby Valentine.


"Where are you going?"

"I am going...sir...to show the world who Bobby Valentine really is.  For I am..."




'The Visionary'


THE END