Adrienne and Garrison - pre World Series Game Seven

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Garrison and Adrienne talk baseball before the last ball game of the season.



Harry's was packed to the doors. Adrienne didn't really expect any less on a friday night, and with Game Seven of what was proving to be one of the most interesting World Series' in recent history about to go down, but she still frowned at the lack of seating in the bar. She ordered a beer for herself and Garrison as the pre-game wrap-up was starting to wrap up and the first pitch was about to be thrown and stood against the bar, trying to use the power of telepathy to get a couple dressed like they were on their way to a ball, finishing up their meal in one of the booths, to ship out so she could snag the seating.

Kane wandered in a moment, looking around. Some of the other residents of the mansion were planning to come out for the game, but it looked like he was first. Correction, he thought, catching sight of Adrienne. He still felt a momentary mix of conflicting emotions, but quelled them. It wasn't going to be comfortable, but he owed it to her to try.

"Hey Frost."

"Hey Kane," Adrienne replied with a smile. She nudged one of the beers closer to him. "That is for your right fielder earning the Hank Aaron Award. Congrats." She figured she should wait until he at least sat down before she started asking him whether her Nation was going to take the Jays manager away from them.

The well-dressed couple got up to leave and Adrienne swooped in on the booth like a vulture.

"Aw, and see, I didn't get you anything for your left fielder not even coming close to earning his contract." Kane said with a grin as he sat down. "So, should I just get an order of fried chicken and biscuits for the starting rotation?"

Adrienne giggled before making a face. "As long as you order one for your bullpen as well. But no, our starting rotation would be denied food if it were up to me. Especially Slackey. I wouldn't be giving them chicken and biscuits. Do you think our new manager John Farrell will deny them food?"

'The only way you guys are getting Farrell away from the Silent Assassin is by waking up and noticing Pedoria suddenly turning doubleplays with Escobar." Kane took a generous swig of his beer. "So, by all means try. I hear Francona is looking for a job..."

Adrienne cocked her head and gave him a long "ummm," before grinning again. "Wait, hasn't that ship sailed for us? The Good Ship Francona?" She took a pull on her beer and turned to the tv as she heard the crack of a bat. "Seriously though, who do you hire if you're us? And where do you think Francona ends up? The broadcast booth?"

"I meant if you guys are dumb enough to give us the farm for Farrell, we'll hire Francona." Kane said. "As for who the Red Sox should hire? I don't know. Not DeMerlo. Maybe Alan Trammel; someone who just fucking hates pitchers."

"Ahhh, gotcha. You guys should hire Francona. And I'm not just saying that because we apparently want Farrell. I like Francona, but I think he'd be wasted in the broadcast booth right now. Why do you want us to hire someone who hates pitchers?" she laughed. "Cuz that would help you guys out?"

"Because you have a rotation of fat, boozy, greasy food eating fratboys who need to be spanked." Kane snapped his fingers. "You could hire Millar. He looks like a spankin' type."

Adrienne shook her head, still giggling. "At least Lackey's having Tommy-John so I don't have to worry about him stinking up the joint next year. And hopefully he won't get spanked by Millar. Did you hear Oswalt, Lidge, and Nathan had their options declined? Do you think Oswalt would be a good fit in the AL-East, or you think if he can't even hack it in the NL-Central he won't be of much use? Cuz that's where I'm sort of leaning right now, but I'm willing to be convinced otherwise..."

"Not at Oswalt's price and injury history. I think he's likely a possibility in somewhere like St. Louis or maybe Arizona." He took another sip. "Nathan is 37 and coming off two years of injury and Lidge... well, he's an interesting thought. Likely too high of a price tag. I think the Red Sox will make a run at Wilson, and maybe pick up a guy like Buerhle to try and add some consistancy to that rotation. Really, the smartest thing they could do is keep the core intact, ignore the fans bitching, and scrounge around for some guys with potential upside while their prospects percolate. But instead, they'll blow it the fuck up and take a bad nosedive."

"Keep the core intact, ignore the fans bitching, scrounge around for some guys with potential upside while their prospects percolate," Adrienne repeated thoughtfully, "isn't that sort of like what the Jays are doing?"

"You have to add ' stealing everything but the other GM's pants by dealing for top prospects in return for friggin' Vernon Wells', but yeah." He looked up as Gregg Zaun was talking about Colby Lewis' breaking ball. "But we have the Silent Assassin, so that's a bit of a difference."

"I've clearly been a teacher for too long," Adrienne lamented with a sad face, sipping at her beer. "When someone says 'Silent Assassin' to me, I don't think of the Blue Jays GM. I think of fart jokes."
"I'm Canadian. We have to try and stay polite, even with our private thoughts." Kane grinned as the other mansion residents started to come in and join them.