EXT. A DESERTED INTERSECTION – MIDNIGHT
An aging man in a baseball uniform stands by the side of the road. A Honda Civic is parked nearby. The man lifts his cap and scratches the tuft of white hair that surrounds a balding crown. He then deposits several items on the ground – a pink T-mobile tote bag, a copy of the Starr Report, and one of Jose Reyes’ dreadlocks – then douses them with rum and lights a match.
DAVE JOUSS: [dropping the match and watching the conflagration burn] Man, I sure hope this works…
Nothing happens.
DAVE JOUSS: Crap, almost forgot.
He pulls a COVID vaccine card out of his pocket and drops it onto the blaze.
— [portal to the netherworld flies open] —
NICK SABAN: Well hello there, friend.
DAVE JOUSS: Nick Saban? Holy moly, you’re the last person I expected to see here.
NICK SABAN: Yeah, well, I try to stay on top of the game as best I can, and these new NCAA rules about images and likenesses are going to make things a bit more…complicated as far as recruiting goes. Potential supply chain disruptions and all that. So I figured I’d try to diversify a bit. Always gotta be evolving, you know?
DAVE JOUSS: Sure, sure.
NICK SABAN: Now I think I’ve got the gist of things already, but why don’t you lay it all out for me to make sure there’s no misunderstanding.
DAVE JOUSS: I’m tired of being a nobody. I mean, when I got my first coaching job I thought it was a dream come true. Major league baseball, all day every day. And getting paid to do it! But it’s nothing like I dreamed it would be. It’s been thirty years and barely anything has changed. I’m still spending all these nights on the road – it’s all I can do to keep my family from blowing into pieces. And it’s not like the hotels and food is terrible, but there’s only so many nights you can spend in a two star hotel in, say, Cleveland before you want to blow your brains out.
NICK SABAN: I understand completely.
DAVE JOUSS: I still love baseball, but…I don’t want to be working behind the scenes anymore. I want to be on the field.
NICK SABAN: I have to be crazy to be talking myself out of a sale like this, but honestly, haven’t you put in enough time to get a chance as a base coach? You don’t need my help for something like that.
DAVE JOUSS: [smiles wryly] You think I’d call you all the way out here for that? My immortal soul for a first base coaching job, maybe get you to throw in a race car on top of it? What do you think I am, ten years old?
NICK SABAN: No I do not.
DAVE JOUSS: If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna aim big. I want to be the greatest pitcher in baseball history.
NICK SABAN: My word. At your age?
DAVE JOUSS: Is that a problem?
NICK SABAN: Not so much. Have you ever seen “Damn Yankees”?
DAVE JOUSS: No, but I read the Readers Digest condensed book it was based on.
NICK SABAN: Oh, good, so you’re familiar with how this works. It’s been quite a while since I ran one of these plays. But I can get it done. No escape hatches this time, though.
DAVE JOUSS: That’s fine.
NICK SABAN: I think we’ll turn you into a knuckleballer. Tell folks you developed your technique playing cricket in New Zealand. First, we’ll need to work on your accent…
NICK SABAN is interrupted by the sound of a revving car engine. At first it is distant, but it approaches rapidly. The two men watch as an ostentatiously-appointed Ford F-150 races towards them and then barrels into the back of DAVE JOUSS’s Honda Civic. The truck rolls over once and lands on its wheels.
DAVE JOUSS: Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
NICK SABAN: [hisses]
DAVE JOUSS: Oh, sorry! But…
— [passenger door flies open] —
ANDY REID: I got a bone to pick with you, Saban!
NICK SABAN: Oh, hell.
DAVE JOUSS: My car!
ANDY REID: [stops glaring at Saban long enough to look at the demolished Honda] It’s fine, you can ride home with Britt and me.
DAVE JOUSS: [stares incredulously at Andy, then at the wrecked cars, then back at Andy again] How did…why aren’t you…but there’s not a scratch on you!
ANDY REID: [glances at DAVE JOUSS] Subclause H.
DAVE JOUSS: Huh?
NICK SABAN: Coach Reid has a very good agent. Don’t you, Andy. Now what’s this all about? I’ve been fulfilling my end of things.
ANDY REID: Forty eight hours ago, I was in the midst of a nice meal at the Olive Garden. Then I get the bill.
ANDY REID reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scrap of paper – a receipt – that is stained with spaghetti sauce. He shoves it in NICK SABAN’s face.
ANDY REID: YOU SEE THAT?
NICK SABAN: [squints at the receipt] The six dollar surcharge?
ANDY REID: IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BOTTOMLESS MEATBALLS, NICK.
NICK SABAN: Andy, you make like $7 million a year, just cough up the extra six bucks.
ANDY REID: THAT WASN’T OUR DEAL AND YOU KNOW IT.
NICK SABAN: Listen, Andy, let me just finish up here with Dave and we’ll get you taken care of.
ANDY REID: I want my meatballs, Nick.
NICK SABAN: Sure, sure. [turns to DAVE JOUSS] Now Dave, you wanted to be the greatest pitcher of all time, right?
DAVE JOUSS: Yeah.
NICK SABAN: And you understand what this will cost you.
DAVE JOUSS: I do.
ANDY REID: [starts tapping his foot impatiently]
NICK SABAN: All right, all you need to do is repeat these words after me…
ANDY REID: Meatballs, Nick.
NICK SABAN: Optimus.
DAVE JOUSS: Optimus…
ANDY REID: [looks at his watch]
NICK SABAN: Proiciens.
DAVE JOUSS: Proiciens…
NICK SABAN: Historia.
DAVE JOUSS: Historia…
ANDY REID: DAMNIT NICK, I WANT MY MEATBALLS!
There is a brilliant flash of red light, and when vision resumes the crossroads is empty.
—
EXT. COORS FIELD – DAY (THREE WEEKS LATER)
ANNOUNCER: And next up in the Home Run Derby we have Pete Alonso…let’s see if his batting coach Dave Jouss can serve him up something tasty…
[…] and I like to imagine that Shane pulled it off and stood guard for a bit making sure that Old Nick had enough time to catch up on the news of the day before getting his hands on a new liver and a […]
This is really good:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bzwV8sARuU&feature=youtu.be
Great stuff, RTD. Having Saban as the Devil was a master touch…
Andy Reid’s bottomless meatball deal kinda reminded me of something though….
I refuse to believe that Andy Reid sold his soul for ONLY bottomless meatballs. There had to be a clause for breadsticks. No salad though because Andy is not crazy.
Also, another clause to bail his family out of any …. troubles … that may arise.
The reference to subclause H (not getting injured while riding in a vehicle with his son) didn’t clue you in? This post didn’t even scratch the surface of Andy’s deal with Old Nick.
I’m hoping that gets detailed out in the next post…
As punishment for his insolence, Lord Saban should permanently affix Andy’s face shield to his head. What better curse to lay on a man who sold his mortal soul for bottomless meatballs?
Since we don’t have a bajillion bucks to see a game at SoFi, and refuse to sell our souls to Saban at the crossroads, we’re going to a Chargers practice on August 8th that Gumby is registering for now. Free, and there’s a concert by the Offspring before, so we can channel tWBS! I just want to see Stan’s Gilded Palace of Sin, don’t give a shit about the Bolts. I will get the link in a minute, I think it’s Ticketmaster.
<femur drums rumble ominously in the background>
This is the thing
I’d go, but I’m only ordering a Wrexham FC jersey right now. Next year or Christmas for the Mahomes jersey, for sure.
I have heard that there is a $30 tour that one can take where they take you into both locker rooms, you get to throw a ball in the field, and you go into the luxury suites.
From what my work buddy said, it’s well worth the price.
For $50 you also get to inhale the jockstrap of the player of your choice.
You need to stay out of Balls’ fantasies, mister. Them’s private!
I give this six out of five Blair Witch Projects.
Totally didn’t see the ending coming.
MOAR please
Wow! This post had everything. Pathos! Bathos! Some of the other thos’! I laughed, I cried, I peed my pants a little! It was picaresque and epic in scope. Magnifique!
I did not have the mute on for my teleconference – I have a meeting with HR later, something about mental health due to my maniacal laughing during the department meeting. Excellent! Loved the touch of the burning vaccine card.
Tremendous.
The Readers Digest Condensed Book thing really made me miss my grandparents.
Kept thinking he was gonna turn into a young Japanese flamethrower, but the reveal was much better than that.
I was absolutely amazed by Jauss’ pitching chart. If Alonso hadn’t already won a home run derby with lesser pitching (in 2019) I’d argue that Jauss genuinely deserved half the prize money.
He’s like the old guy at the outdoor courts who can make 150 free throws in a row.
Dave looks a lot like his dad, the late Chicago sportswriter Bill Jauss.
I can’t believe I wrote an entire bit about selling one’s soul and didn’t include Blackout Brett Kavanaugh somehow. I’m losing my edge.
Also, I should have had the receipt be stained with marinara *and* barbecue sauce.
Gotta save something for the sequels.
Don’t beat yourself up, Rikki: you’re a tremendous slouch!
My god this was good.