[scuffleball]

February 3, 2004
Laidley Tower
League Offices – Mountaineer Baseball League
Charleston, West Virginia

James L. Holcomb, commissioner of the recently formed Mountaineer Baseball League, gazed blankly out his eleventh story window across downtown Charleston. The next 24 hours would officially birth West Virginia’s first independent and fully professional baseball league, a monumental moment in the history of sports in the state. The League’s newly hired Director of Media Relations, Scott Sutherland, cleared his throat behind him from his seat across the commissioner’s desk.

“They aren’t going to be happy about this,” he stated blandly, as if his words were common knowledge.

Commissioner Holcomb smiled one of those exasperated, drained smiles before turning around. “No, I suppose they aren’t.” He slumped into his chair, pyramiding his hands over his mouth, his index fingers digging deep into his upper lip. He sighed with resignation. “But we have to stay within the business model. That’s the only way this will work. More than ten teams just isn’t financially feasible . . . not for the inaugural season. Start up costs would more than double. The league would be broke by May.”

Sutherland nodded as if he’d heard that a thousand times.

The Commissioner sit back. “Surely everyone understands that, Scott. I mean, they are all businessmen. A sixteen team league is not a viable option here. Hell, if we were in Ohio or Pennsylvania it might make sense, but not here. Not with our markets.”

“Rumor is that some of the applicants are going to form a rival league should they not make the cut here with us,” Sutherland noted.

Holcomb nodded, all too aware of that rumor. Truth be told, he knew it was more than a rumor, but he hoped against all hope that it was simply that. “South Charleston, Weirton, and Teays Valley leading the charge, no doubt.”

Sutherland nodded. “Those are the clear choices, yes.”

The Commissioner thought for a moment, contemplating that reality. “Weirton I can almost understand, considering their proposal,” he conceded. “Under the right circumstances they would be a good market for us.”

“But not at the present, not without a suitable stadium lease, or even the prospect of signing one in the next year,” Sutherland countered.

The Commissioner nodded. He sighed again – he had been doing that a lot lately, since the decision to open with a ten-team league instead of ballooning up to a sixteen team circuit had been made. “A rival league would destroy any goodwill we’ve built up to this point. Those owners know that. Charles Martin, in particular, knows that. We’ve had a lot of favorable press about the league. A lot of coverage from all over the state. People are sincerely excited about this. We have a golden opportunity – a once in a lifetime chance – to make this work and last. Professional baseball in West Virginia. If we come out of this meeting with six to ten prospective owners jumping ship to form another new league we’ll all look like jackasses.”

“I’ve heard anywhere from six to ten teams, most probably eight,” Sutherland remarked. “Word is that Charles Martin has already been anointed the new league’s commissioner . . . should he not get accepted into our fold.”

“South Charleston’s not in,” Holcomb retorted, sounding slightly annoyed. “Martin’s seen the marketing reports. It’s too close to Charleston and would split the fan base too drastically. And frankly, Charleston has better facilities and, just between you and me, a better owner.”

“Oh, I absolutely agree, Commissioner,” Sutherland acknowledged, flipping through a stack of papers in his lap. He finally produced a spreadsheet, holding it up. “Report indicated that neither team would be viable should they both be awarded franchises.” He smiled. “But I digress . . . “

Commissioner Holcomb sighed, as if the act could purge the distaste of the last few sentences from his system. If he were to never hear the name Charles Martin again it would be too soon! “Here we sit, on what should be a very exciting day, fretting about a loudmouth who will go and do something stupid when he doesn’t get his way.”

Sutherland nodded. “Another league has no long-term viability. It’s one league or nothing. This state, this economy, can’t support two professional baseball leagues.”

The Commissioner grunted. “Don’t think for a minute that silly little things like marketing reports or viability studies will stop them, Scott. They saw the projections, same as the founders of the Mountaineer League. Hell, that’s what brought twenty owners here instead of just ten. They want in, want their piece of the pie. They sense the same thing that you and I do – that West Virginians are ready to support their own professional baseball league.”
Sutherland nodded.

“All along we were going with ten teams, ten solid franchise and business plans, a viable business model . . . then the proposals start rolling in,” the Commissioner continued. ”Cross Lanes, Moundsville, St. Albans, Weirton . . . they all wanted in. So we took and extra four months and studied it.”

“And it won’t work,” Sutherland chimed in. “Too much overhead, too much watering down of state-wide talent. Frankly, the product would suck with sixteen teams.”

“Right. And if the product sucks, we die. So we are going to go with the original ten: Charleston, Huntington, Parkersburg, Clarksburg, Fairmont, Morgantown, Wheeling, Martinsburg, Bluefield, Beckley.”

“The strongest markets, and aside from Weirton, the largest markets in the state. You’re preaching to the choir, Commissioner,” Sutherland summed up with a smile.

It was quiet for a moment. Commissioner Holcomb grinned. “It is exciting, isn’t it? Our own league, made up of homegrown talent. No more having our best players leave to play in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, or the Southern States League.”

Sutherland joined in the grin. “It’s very exciting, Commissioner. This has been the dream of a lot of people for a while now.”

“So we need to discuss final preparations for tomorrow. We’ll want to do it right.”

Scott sit up. “We go to the press conference tomorrow, announce the ten franchises, and build on the excitement that’s already been generated in the press. I say we don’t worry about the possibility of another league being formed. Potential players in Hinton or Charles Town or Paden City will want to play for us anyway. We will be the league in West Virginia. Where is this rival league going to get their players? Class A high schools? Believe me, we’ll drown out any splash a rival league will make initially.”

Commissioner Holcomb took those words in, mulling them over. A smile creased his lips. “Now I remember why we hired you, Scott.”

“Thank you, Commissioner.”

“Now let’s get to work . . .”