[coffeyfiend]

In 1970, it felt like my life was over; which is really saying something, considering that I was only 25 years old. As the assistant general manager for a Major League baseball team; I was well on my way to living my dream. And then, as quickly as it had begun, my hopes and dreams were suddenly there at my feet, shattered on the ground.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself; this story really begins three years earlier, when I was fresh out of college with the entire world in front of me. While I was putting myself through college, I worked for the Seattle Rainiers (calling them the Angels, just wasn’t the same). When I was a freshman, I started out in the locker room. Even though I was cleaning up after grown men, I still loved spending every day at the ball park, watching the games. My hard work and dedication (as well as baseball knowledge) caught the eye of Emil Sick, the owner of the Rainiers. Mr. Sick hired me to work in the front office, learning the business and bureaucratic side of the game. I spent the next three years of college; between cramming for tests and partying too much, at the stadium, learning how to run a baseball team. When the California Angels bought the Rainiers from Mr. Sick in 1965; they changed the name to the Seattle Angels, but I got to stay on with the club until I graduated in 1967 with a degree in Business Management. Following my graduation, Mr. Sick introduced me to the man that would further my dreams and change my life.

Dewey Soriano was a pitcher at heart. Although he never made it out of the minors, he was well known and loved by fans when he pitched in the 1940’s. When his dreams of making it to the big show faded and reality sent in, Dewey couldn’t imagine his life without baseball. He went back to school and after graduating with a Master’s Degree in Business Administration, took a job with the Pacific Coast League. He worked himself up through the ranks, and eventually became President of the PCL in 1960.

I spent the summer of 1967 working under Dewey, running the PCL and loved every second of it. Dewey and I would talk baseball for hours and hours and became fast friends and I became the catcher to his pitcher. We spent the following year working side by side. But I noticed that Dewey was starting to change, we spoke less and less as he became more and more reserved. He would spend the majority of his day in his office with the door closed. By July, I was starting to become a bit put off and I finally confronted him about it.

Sitting there in his office, he stared at me from behind his desk. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, just stared at me, analyzing me. I stared back, waiting for him to speak. Finally, in a low voice, just above a whisper he said, “Steve, I know I can trust that what I tell you will stay between us, until the time is right.” I nodded solemnly, letting him know that his trust was well placed.

“I’m going to buy a baseball team.”
“Just one? Isn’t that going to make the league uneven?” I asked.
“You don’t understand. I am buying a baseball team, not the league; me.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yes, Steve. I am bidding to bring a major league team to Seattle.”

I stared at him, speechless. Trying to fathom the impossibility of what he had just told me. While I knew that Dewey was relatively well off, he was by no means rich and didn’t possess anywhere near the amount of money required to run a decent baseball team-or even a horrible one for that matter.

“Did you rob a bank or something?”
“No, I found an investing partner to put up the majority of the majority of the expansion fee. If the other owners approve this winter, we’ll own a major league team.”