Mark Jazzington - a managerial career

[Jazzmosis]

Chapter 59: Moves and Musings

One day after Koan’s second straight meltdown that saw his ERA rise to 5.61 and his record to 3-3, he would be donning pinstripes. This came as an especially large shock to everyone in the organization, myself included. As Oberg’s words rolled off his tongue, my mind hypothesized wildly. This wasn’t a salary dump; Koan was still pre-arbitration until the end of the year. I thought that maybe an offer was brought forward that couldn’t be refused - the young pitcher had garnished a lot of attention with his ‘08 year, and his value had soared. Maybe the GM saw an ongoing problem with him and didn’t think he’d throw well - possible, although unlikely. Koan was merely heating up in his career - that’s at least what the experts were predicting - so a peak hadn’t likely came already. The final possibility was the scariest, at least for my career: Koan was the start of a team dismantling. I wanted to shake the feeling I had with the doubts of how it would make sense considering the large profit and low payroll the team was already experiencing. But this feeling only heightened with the second name Oberg reeled off in the trade.

Bartolo Guasch, the rock-solid left fielder that had played for Chicago since 2004 and hit over .300 for. He was 33, and signed through the end of next season for a decent contract, which made him eligible to be a hot trade suspect for Oberg. But he was only getting better each season, slugging over .500 for ‘07 and ‘08, increasing his walks, home runs, and runs batted in, among other categories. He owned the all-time franchise record for his 33-game hit streak a year previous, and in ‘07 even chased a 78 (now 80) year old record for hits in a season, falling just shy. He was once again flawless in the field, well on his way to his second straight year without a fielding error. Even with his slow start in the first few weeks, his bat that had been on fire since the last week of April raised his average above .300 and put his 5 Hrs out of fans’ minds. . . and now, the unquestioned leader of this team was gone. The team had to be dismantling - I’d just lost my best pitcher and best hitter.

But then, backup catcher Robert Stich’s name was brought up - he hadn’t hit well in the majors (.210) since being called up in place of Justin Gonser, who left almost exactly a month earlier, but he was young at only 26, and not even a full year into his service time. If the team was dismantling, his trading made no sense to me.

But than I found out who the Cubs were getting in return. 28 year old pitcher Jim Duncan, who lead the AL in strikeouts and sported a ridiculous 2.65 ERA to go with a 3-1 record was now a Chicago Cub. He too was making minimum salary, but still had another year of pre-arbitration to go. His beastly arm was a strikeout machine - he’d struck out more than 1 batter per inning in his career, and didn’t look to see that number slip. His numbers had slipped in ‘08, even though he’d won 16 games, posted more IP, K, and a better WHIP. However, his ERA had rose nearly a full run. An important thing was that he had postseason experience - 5 starts in 2006, and 7 in 2008 when New York won it all. His record was already an impressive 7-2. Unlike Koan, he didn’t have absolute command. They had pitched close to the same amount of innings in their careers, and yet Koan had walked 50 less - and Duncan had only been in the bigs since 2006, while Koaney had appeared in ‘04. Regardless, Duncan was definitely an improvement, if only for his strikeouts. He immediately inherited the league lead in that category, and would see that through to the end of the season.

As if that wasn’t enough to sway my confidence back to Oberg’s dedication to putting a good, cheap team on the field, he dropped the next name. Mark Gouin. At 25, he too was making minimum salary, which freed even more salary. He would have to fill Guasch’s shoes in left field, which ended my ten second thought that Ira Hull would be the replacement. But there was something about the young man inappropriately nicknamed “Little” in New York - he was an absolute monster. After pounding 28 home runs in 2008, his first full season, he looked prime to shatter that with his current eleven a mere 31 games into the season. Standing 6'4 and weighing in at 205, the muscular man was touted as the next bomb threat when he was a prospect - and had done wonders to turn potential into potency. Scouted as having a fantastic eye, which lead him to 84 walks the last year, and as a guy that made frequent contact, not to mention his low K rates (his BB:K rate was around 1.5:1) made this 2006 first round pick an absolute monster pickup. I wondered why New York would give up such a young player, when Oberg informed me that his months of playing hard-to-get (dating back to last year) had basically gave the Yankees’ GM a knotted stomach - and after much debating, he’d got the two players he’d wanted forever, but Chicago had received a future that was suddenly happening right away.

But no, this deal wasn’t done. Oberg landed a spectacular defensive catcher to boot, who had an amazing arm and great game-calling skills, not to mention defence that made wild pitches seemingly extinct. The catcher, a 26 year-old Venezuelan named Francis Delgadillo would take the place of Gonser, but I knew right away not to rely on his bat - the former 831st overall pick from the 2004 draft hadn’t played above AA apart from this year (and one game in ‘08 where he played three innings and didn’t get an at-bat), where he had hit an unimpressive .234 as a backup, totalling only 47 at-bats all year in 40 games. He’d spent 2004-2007 in Single-A, where he showed good power, totalling 68 home runs, but nobody expected that to translate into success at the major-league level. And they were right, as he received a major league callup in April, but had been sent back to AA five days before his trading after hitting only .108 with one home run and three RBI. Like Oberg, I was curious to see if he could lead our remodelled staff to the promised land - an October shootout.

Like a cherry on the cake, Oberg also sifted 2.7 million from New York.

And all of the sudden, this team looked very different. Two new starters, a new leftfield, and a consistent first baseman. The home run production jumped by about 20, and I finally had two plus .300 hitters to plug in the 3-4 holes.

To top it all off, I got an unexpected call from an old friend.

“Hey Mark!” The bubbly voice chimed as I picked up the phone.

“Hey Chris!” I returned in similar fashion. It was Chris Look, whom I’d kept in touch with since his move to Cincinnati, but hadn’t spoke to since early February, after Irene’s death. “How’s life treating you?”

“Well, Cincinnati released me -”

“What??”

“Relax! That happened over a month ago. . .”

“What!!”

“Right at the start of the season. But anyway, a week later Houston came a-calling with minor league deal, which I gladly took. I knew this arm still had something left in it, even if the end was coming quickly.”

“So you’re in Houston now?” I asked in a stuttered voice.

“Nope. They released me a week later.”

“What!?!”

“Antsy today, aren’t we?” Look chuckled. “When I got there, I was only getting my arm back in shape after a week of doing nothing. I nearly got into a AAA game, warming in the pen a few times, but they really wanted me there to help mentor the younger arms to get to the show - and I wasn’t there to stamp my learner’s on a coaching career. I talked to the front office, asking that if I didn’t have any shot at making the Astros, then if they would grant me a release so I could look elsewhere. And well, they gave me my wish.”

“So you’re a free agent now?”

“Well, I was.”

“Oh great!” I exclaimed. “Who’d you sign with?”

“You.”

“What!!!?!?!”

“Calm down! I talked to your GM, Rich Oberg for a few days. I told him that I was interested in playing - he knew you’d turned me into a closer a few years back, and told me that there was a pressing need for a stopper in the farm. I told him that I at least wanted a shot to pitch in the bigs again, and he said that he wouldn’t rule it out at all, but he wanted me to play first. I loved it - he gave me exactly what I wanted, and gave me a closer title again, even if it’s AAA. My arm’s getting old, but it’s not done yet.”

“So you’re in Westport now?” I asked.

“Well, no. I’ve got to head up to Chicago first to sign the deal, and then it’s off to Westport. You know, you could see me playing under you again. Real soon.”

“I thought you were going to hang them up at the end of this season, though.”

“I just want to prove to myself that I can still throw at the major league level - even if it’s just one batter, I want to go out on top of my game. When that happens, I’ll be done. Last year, I gave up a hit to the last batter I faced - that’s no way to go out.”

“I suppose it isn’t. I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you soon. If not soon, this season for sure.”

“You know it!”


I was excited on all angles, feeling like this team had a shot again. We were mired in fourth place at the time of the trade, but this team was about to turn it’s corner.


The next two games gave the team wins, the decisions going to my new starters. After a loss, Chicago won three, than lost three, than won three again. We finished the month of May by winning another three in a row, giving us a 14-14 month, which was a nice comeback considering the 2-7 start. Milwaukee had the division lead, with St. Louis a game behind, and Pittsburgh still riding their fast start, sitting 2.5 out. The Cubs sat 5 out, while Houston was hot on our tail 6.5 out, with Cincinnati 7 back. Aitken picked up another 5 saves, while Morales looked to be in the middle of his sophomore slump, sitting with a 2-7 record (those seven losses coming in a row), but with a solid 4.08 ERA. Zang was continuing to impress with a 5-2 record and a 3.86 ERA, giving me four solid starters in the rotation. Guillen was 3-3 with a 4.83 ERA, which was a definite improvement after his 0-3, 8.10 April. In fact, the one scuffling was Delaney, whose ERA was still above 6, and his record at 2-5. His strikeout rate was too good to bump to the pen, and the general inconsistency of the bullpen made a replacement option unlikely, unless I wanted to give Rule 5 pick Ray Sipple the job (which I didn’t, because he had been aces in the middle innings thus far).

I had also found a new apartment over the course of the month, and was preparing to move right after the team got back from a road swing. Everything was coming back together, both for the team and for my mentality. I was finally putting Irene to rest, despite my initial reluctance. I had cleaned my old place up, leaving only boxes around in preparation for my move.

The bumps were far from over, though. June would prove to be a roller coaster for me, and a question I’d had with a player would be answered in the worst way possible.

I would find out that he was using drugs.

[canadiancreed]

GOod writeups as always I've really got to learn how you do it.

[PBL Commish]

good write up



keep cutting that time between posts

[Y0DA55]

Originally Posted by Jazzmosis

(FYI for anyone interested: In novel form, this dynasty will be 356 pages long at the end of this chapter. In computer paper, it's now spanned 178 pages, 485259 characters, 110971 words, 8038 sentences, and 2630 paragrpahs. And apparently somewhere in there, I wrote a sentence that was 107 words long... I wonder where that is?)

What do you mean "novel form"? And I LOVE this kind of stuff. Good to know that I have read all that.

Nice deal you pulled off, but the thing I like is the Look signing. Whenever I take a gander at the free agent/waiver wire and see a former player who I used to like, I sometimes give them a shot to play. In my league, I took a shot at the Homerun Champ (as he hadn't won a championship) and took him along for the ride to win his first before he retired at the end of the year. He wasn't a former player of mine, but I knew the name so well. I forsee Lookie getting a shot once September rolls around. Looking forward to it.

[Jazzmosis]

Novel form is my bastardized version of saying that if it was in a small paperback, it'd be about that many pages.

Anyhow, I know it's been a month, and what a crazy month it's been - I've had my baseball playoffs and the Ontario finals, as well as a billion hours of work, a hilarious scandal, a passport problem and something involving money, and finally, after all that, I've had to spend my writing time working on my screenplay for my next short film. All in all, Jazzington had to wait in the pen until I had a chance - but I pieced together the chapter over time and now it's completed! Questions are answered, answers are questioned, in an episode I call: Changes.

Actually no, Chapter 60: Where The Line Is is the title. Regardless, it'll be up soon!

[Jazzmosis]

Chapter 60: Where The Line Is

June started with a win against my old team, the Diamondbacks, which completed a rare four-game sweep. Delaney picked up the win, just his third on the season, but after a two hour discussion with him and his role on the team, which included my boss, Delaney had convinced us that his numbers would improve. That much would be true, as he would start his best month on the season.

Meanwhile, I called a team meeting on June 5th, hours before the game. The team sat around the clubhouse, some talking quietly, others waiting for me to start my speech. Others suspected that Oberg had sent me down with a message for the team, being that most players admitted that although Rich was a good guy, his messages were routinely hard to decipher. I had on more than one occasion acted as his interpreter. But on this day, the meeting was my own doing.

“Guys,” I started, holding my hands up. “It’s now June. I know we’ve gone through a lot of changes both in the team and individually, but there’s no reason we are where we are. 26-27 and in fourth place? Last year we had a much weaker team and we were crusading in first place - and largely, the other teams ahead of us are the same or not as improved. We’ve got everything right in this room that we need to take this division - I just want to see you guys go out there and believe you can. Not even a week ago we swept the first-place Diamondbacks. And now we lose the series to the last-place Dodgers? I don’t think so. We’ve got tonight to earn the split before we head back home to play another team below .500, and then it’s another division leader. It’s right here where we have to start making our move. We’re all worthy of the postseason, more than anyone else in this division. So let’s take it, instead of handing it over to someone else. What do you say?”

“But how do we know we’re going to even be on this team in a month or so?” Zang asked amiss the silence. “Over the last four months, we’ve seen all the largest contracts be traded, and some of our most solid “untradeables” moved. It’s hard to play for the postseason when there’s no guarantee we’ll be on this team when the deadline comes.”

“Contracts aside, those moves were made to make this team better. Are you sad that we’ve got guys like Delaney and Duncan here now? What about James at first? This team has added talent to what it’s lost - look at Little Gouin. I miss those guys too, but I know this team is in better shape with who we’ve got now. And these guys are playing for the postseason. Everyone has to expect to be on this team at the end of the season.”


I’ll never know if what I said really made an impact, but the Cubs promptly went on an eight-game winning streak, sweeping New York, my other old team Florida, and beating my fan favourite Toronto. During that streak, I saw Harshaw come back from the disabled list and hit 6-for-18, including 6 RBIs and his first homerun of the year. He was back in form after some rehabs in the minors starting the month, and the cries would come again as I shifted him back into the shortstop role. However, with Dekker’s solid play throughout May (.282/4/20), I gave him more at bats throughout the course of the season, making him more than just a backup, but a platooner. In order to give Harshaw as many bats as I could, he found himself playing all over the infield, starting at second and third as well as short. The results would become more and more apparent, and he recovery looked to be complete. What I was seeing now was the complete Harshaw, the guy with the smooth swing and the never-give-up attitude. During his time from now to the end of the season, he would also garnish a new nickname that would be branded to him for the rest of his career.

Mark Gouin, meanwhile, was becoming a lopsided trade in our favour. He’d already mashed 10 homeruns for us over the course of a month, and his defensive in leftfield had been as flawless as Guasch’s. At the end of the eight-gamer, he was sitting on 17 home runs and 47 RBI, on pace for a 50/120 season. Clough was keeping pace behind, with 12 bombs, 39 RBIs, and a ridiculous .355 average, which was actually second to Hickman’s insane .360.

Hickman meanwhile was already one homerun short of a career-tying best, at 7 (8 being his high, set in 2007 and 2008). He’d stolen 26 bases, which was also pacing him for 60 on the season.

Our eighth win didn’t come easy, though. After Aitken allowed four runners to reach safely, two of whom scored, I found myself in a tight spot, leading only 7-6 after taking a 7-0 lead earlier on. On the very next pitch, Aitken threw a ball right in the dirt, allowing the runners to get on second and third with nobody out. I walked out slowly to the mound, hoping for a miracle as I pulled him.

Enter James Popham. He’d been the anchor in the pen this year, pacing the team in tight spots. “Try your best to keep that runner on second from scoring,” was all I could say to him as I handed him the ball under the roar of the excited crowd.

He did more than that. Facing the 7-8-9 of the order, he retired them all - each one striking out swinging for a slider in the dirt. Picking up his first save on the season was one that I knew I’d remember my whole life - listening to the crowd moan dejectedly as Popham left the tying runner on third base, and the winning run on second, not allowing any batter to even make contact with the ball (not even a foul).

That win pushed us to only two games back from Milwaukee and St. Louis, and to 35-28 overall.

A week passed before we came back to Chicago, and we found ourselves at 36-32 and four games back after the longest road trip of the season. During that time, Aaron Delph was traded to the White Sox, which was inevitable after he was designated for assignment when Harshaw was activated. The trade brought a young, slick fielding 22 year old to the organization named Samuel Martinez, who was assigned to Westport right away.

For me, the travelling wouldn’t be over. I had found a new apartment and was moving in to it, near the stadium. The rent was higher than I’d wanted to pay, but it was a good part of the city, and close to everything I needed. My move in was the day we came back - and so, jet lag and all, I piled all my stuff in my car, and made trip after trip, back and fourth from my old place to my new place. It took most of the day, and I had to stop in order to get to the game, but I continued the very next morning with what was left over.

The apartment was on the third floor, and I had attracted a lot of attention from the residents by moving couches up elevators myself - swearing endlessly as I jammed them into the cramped confines, only to give up and drag them up three flights of stairs (more swearing included). I was exhausted when I got close to finishing, and as I attempted to force the final couch through my door, having it jam in the doorway, which caused me to flip over it, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. I squirmed to my feet to see who had seen my embarrassing clumsiness. Not far from the elevator, a young woman stood, her eyes fixated on my opened door and protruding couch. “Are you okay?” I heard.

I stepped into the hallway, or at least tried to. My foot got caught on the couch’s armrest, sending my body sprawling head-first into the wall across from my door. I grabbed my head and bit my tongue, trying to appear as if I was too manly to feel pain - but instead, had managed to cut my forehead. The woman hurried over to where I was and helped me to my feet. “Oh! You’re cut!” She exclaimed as the blood trickled through my fingers. “And it’s deep!”

“Is it?” I asked, still trying to act like nothing had happened. “Doesn’t hurt, really.”

“Here, follow me.” She said. “I’ll bandage it for you.” She lead me to her apartment, and spent the next 15 minutes tending to my forehead before wrapping a bandage around it. “That should do it,” she exclaimed as she looked at my wrapped head.

“Thanks. . .” I started. “Sorry I made you late for wherever you were going.”

She looked up at me in the seat as she cleaned up her medical supplies and smiled. “It’s okay, I was only going to get my laundry downstairs.”

I looked at her and returned her polite smile, before realizing the obvious. “I’m Mark,” I said, extending my hand.

She took my hand and shook it lightly. “My name is Lilley.”

“Lilley what?”

“Lilley Townsend.”

“Mark Jazzington.”

“I’ve heard that name before. . .” she said, half to herself.

“What do you do?” I asked, changing the subject. Truth be told, I was tired of talking about myself to every new person I met.

“I’m a medical student,” she responded, “at Chicago Medical College. I want to become a doctor.”

“Oh really? What of?”

“Well, ideally, I’d like to become a surgeon. One that specializes in injuries to the shoulders and neck.”

“A sports surgeon?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Not really sure, to be honest.”


I thanked her for her help, and we chatted a little longer before we both had to leave - her for her laundry, me for the game. After a meltdown by Guillen, I had decided to shuttle him to the pen and give Ray Sipple a shot after he’d posted a sub-3 ERA in 30 innings. After his recent relief appearance during Guillen’s start, I was hoping that I could snap our recent skid. And on this particular day, Sipple was the starting pitcher against a weak Cincinnati.

He threw decently enough, although nerves seemed to get to him at times. He gave up four runs over six innings, but struck out seven, and picked up his first win of the season - ironically, after defeating Benjy Lamar, who dropped to 4-4 with a 5.40 ERA.


This started a four game win streak, but on June 23rd, the win cost us far more than I was willing to pay. Well on our way to a powerful sweep, leading 9-1 in the ninth, Guillen came in to pitch. Morales had given me 6 solid innings, and Walton, Popham, and Dolman had done their jobs. Guillen walked one and gave up a single, but with two outs, he got first baseman Cirilo Solis to hit a small bloop to leftfield. It had RBI-single written all over it, but Gouin had a great jump, and was in mid sprint after the ball. The Chicago crowd watched and cheered in anticipation as he got closer and closer to the dying fly. He lunged and dove for the ball awkwardly, picking the ball in the air as his glove scraped the turf. The crowd all jumped to their feet in rowdy cheering at the game-ending play as Gouin rolled over on himself, his momentum still moving his muscular body. Harshaw was the first to reach him as he held the ball up, but quickly signalled for the trainer to come out.

I called to him and rushed out towards Gouin in the field, who was still on the ground. Simoneaux, Harshaw and Cuddy (who had just come in to pinch hit for Hickman an inning earlier).

“My foot! My foot!” He screeched as the trainer came out. He was eventually taken off the field in a stretcher, but the news would just get worse - he’d broke his ankle, and would likely miss the rest of the year.

And as I walked back into the streets after the game, heading towards my apartment, I saw Dolman crouching in the corner.

“Dave?” I called out.

Dolman twitched, his head snapping in my direction, his eyes wide. “Skip?”

“What are you doing over there?” I asked, heading towards him.

He threw a hand up, beckoning me to stop. “No it’s okay, I’m not hurt. I, uh, heh, just dropped a rock. I mean, quarter! I mean, quarter.”

I came closer, watching him suspiciously. He slipped his hand in his pocket quickly and released it.

“What’s in your pocket?”

He looked around. “What? Why?”

“Because you get paid 300 thousand dollars a year. . . why would you hide a quarter?”

He stared at me blankly.

“Dave. Show me your pockets.”

“Hey, shut up! You don’t come to my house and accuse me of stealing!” He shouted.

“House? What?”

By this time, people were starting to look. Luckily, in the night we weren’t entirely recognizable, so people just assumed we were to normal people having an argument. But that wouldn’t last long.

I grabbed Dolman by his arm. “I want to know what’s in your pocket, Dave.”

He jerked his hand back, freeing his arm. He immediately took a swing at me, clocking me across the side of my face. My head bounced off his fist, then the wall it was beside. My knees gave out and I fell to the sidewalk. Dolman took off right away.

A woman rushed to my side while two men chased after Dave. “Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah, I think.” I mumbled to the ground, holding my head. “Feeling kind of odd.”

“Don’t pass out.” She instructed.

“I won’t. . .” I slurred, my vision going blurry.

“Did you know that guy?”

“He plays for me.”

“Oh! I know you, you’re the manager!”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to call an ambulance for you.” She said.

I passed out.


I came to in a hospital bed. Memories came back from Irene’s death, but I pushed them out of my mind. A nurse noticed me and came to my side. “Take it easy, Mr. Jazzington.”

“Where’s Dave?”

“You’ve suffered a mild concussion.”

“Oh, have I?”

“Yes. The report shows that a David Dolman assaulted you outside Gaston Stadium. He’s in custody now.”

“Assault? He didn’t assault me!”

“You’ll have to take that up with the police - for now, you need to relax.”

[PBL Commish]

what happened to two years ago when there were weekly updates lol

jk good chapter

[Jazzmosis]

Originally Posted by PBL Commish

what happened to two years ago when there were weekly updates lol

jk good chapter

Haha, I got three jobs, a full time summer job, starting making films, got a girlfriend (HUGE time killer), and the chapters stopped being about a 45 second read.

I know it's taking longer for the updates, but I'm trying to add more flesh and story to each chapter now. The way I wrote the chapters ini the early years was different to how I write them now (mostly how I handle the "future".. now I know it before I write it). I think the chapters are better, but I'm ashamed at the amount of stupid mistakes I keep making, grammar-wise.

[PBL Commish]

no1 cares about grammar mistakes lol

its fine as long as u keep doing this

[Jazzmosis]

After a little bit of delay, I'm back once again with a new chapter! School's started for me, and over the next few months I'll be busy as hell, so I suspect the chapter will delay even more (possibly more than a month). I just wanted to get this one out, because I'm craving to play, and won't let myself, but this answers some questions and pushes forward the timeline (yes, I make it to August in this one)...

Anyhow, in a few minutes, Chapter 61: Things to Come of Mark Jazzington will be out soon!

[Jazzmosis]

Chapter 61: Things to Come

Dolman was released on bail the morning of June 24th, but I had to stay in the hospital until the 28th due to excessive dizziness. During that time, hitting and first base coach Ernest Anderson assumed the role of acting manager, pushing infield instructor Steve Schermerhorn, a 40 year old defensive specialist whose 8 year career ended in 2006, to the first base box. The team had to move on without Gouin or myself - and Dario Dardey, a 25 year old outfielder called up to replace him, made a bang in his first plate appearance. He slapped a single to right, proceeded to steal second, and then scored on a George Martinez single. However, Ira Hull was getting a bonus, which was a starting role in left that would last to the end of the season. He’d yet to hit a homerun, which would be a power downgrade to the extreme.

However, under Anderson’s control, the team went 2-2, which left the Cubs 3 games out from Milwaukee.

But the real story was Dolman and myself. The media was flying accusations all over the place, saying that a heated confrontation over Dolman’s poor pitching lead to a fist fight, and when I was hospitalized I pressed charges. Others said that Dolman had been told he was being sent to AAA and lost it on Oberg, and I took a shot to the face when I tried to step in the middle.

Like most stories without the facts, told by word of mouth, the details were sketchy and the altercation was sudden. Although it was true that Dolman had been struggling mightily, with his ERA well above 7, and his appearances dwindling quickly, he just hadn’t been himself - both on the mound and off.

But it all came clear on the 29th. Dolman’s scheduled court date was the 25th, but with me still in hospital, it was delayed until I was released. Dave had thrown the night of the 25th after the court date delay, but hadn’t even been seen in uniform since. On this day, he was in a suit and tie, standing in front of a judge. I, a bandage wrapped once around my head, stood well back.

I immediately dropped the assault charges, but the police report filed said that a witness had ‘seen the defendant snorting something before the altercation.’ A search of his apartment was ordered to see if any suspicious substances would turn up.

And how it did. After a search on July 1st, investigators found cocaine in the bathroom cabinet.

And then it was all explained.

Dave Dolman, 26 year old reliever for the Chicago Cubs, was snorting cocaine. Yet another court date was set for July 9th, this one for charges involving drug possession.

Amazingly enough, he was cleared of drug charges, his lawyer stating that the police had done wrong going into his apartment without proper evidence, and that anyone could be doing drugs in the bathroom. Dolman was known as a ladies man, so it was entirely possible that a girl he had brought home had done it and left it there. Of course it was a vapid lie, and the justice did come eventually. After two weeks of deliberation, which ended on July 10th, 2006, the MLB-issued drug test that he’d took roughly a month before put an end to speculation. Dave Dolman tested positive for cocaine in his urine, and he was issued a 14-day suspension. He’d squeaked out of assault and possession charges from the law, but would still end up serving time.

In terms of what this meant for the team, Oberg optioned Dolman to AAA in time to serve his suspension, and called up Lorenzo Perez to take his place. At the same time, Dario Dardey was optioned to AAA after he wasn’t getting playing time, and a familiar face in Robert Gober rejoined the team to serve as backup outfielder.

Credit had to be handed to the team during this time of scandal. In June, they played to an 18-9 record, which put them in a tie with St. Louis for second place, 3 back from Milwaukee, and at a 43-35 clip. The most reliable reliever, James Popham, committed to a hefty extension, totalling 7.9 million over 4 years. He’d earned it, though - with the team lead in appearances, and a low ERA of 3.26, the ace setup had been the rock in a bullpen that was holding together by shreds.

July didn’t start out so well, though. With the all-star break on July 11-13th, the team went a disappointing 3-7 to start the month, free-falling to 7 games behind. The only consistent winner in the staff was Morales now, who won his 8th straight, which was a complete turnaround from his 7 straight losses earlier in the season. He stood at 9-7, but Duncan’s ERA had rose a full run since joining the team, Sipple wasn’t so solid as a starter, and nobody else had a winning record. As a result, we’d fallen to 4th place, but two wins against Philadelphia on the 9th and 10th pushed us back to 5 games out.

Our all-stars were predictable, at least. Hicky and Clough would represent our team in the summer classic. Clough was hitting .357 with 19 home runs, and Hickman was hitting .361 with 9, and 34 stolen bases.

Our inconsistent play continued after a 9-2 drubbing by the NL All-Stars. Over the next week, we went 4-3, but luckily that actually pushed us back to 3.5 back. Cole Aitken was humming along, with 23 saves, and we were seeing the rebirth of John Harshaw, After hitting .284 in June and on his way to a .302 July, people were quickly forgetting about his early season struggles.

Lorenzo Cancio’s power outage was a serious concern, though. One year ago he had parked 8 at this point in the season, but this year he’d only hit two - on May 4th and July 2nd. His average was a paltry .235, but on the plus side he still had a OBP of .326.

Our second baseman, Agustin Taylor, who had been relatively overlooked this season, was quietly putting up a consistent barrage. As the 26 year old developed into a solid defensive player, making on more than one occasion a spectacular defensive grab, he was also hitting right around .300 with 3 jacks, making him a perfect table-setter in the two hole. Hickman would get on, steal second, and then be knocked home or sent to third by Taylor, who would trot home after a bomb by Clough.

On the 23rd, Guillen made his triumphant return to the rotation. Sipple had been scuffling, and after getting bombed in his previous start, I decided that Spanish Koan would be a better option, especially considering how we were back in contention. He rewarded us with a 6 inning effort that bagged him the win, but he had some defensive help. Leading 2-1 in the bottom of the 8th, with two outs, St. Louis had runners on first and second, and my old second baseman, Magglio Casablanca at the plate. Dave Walton threw a 1-0 pitch at the knees - a pitch that Casablanca ripped right back up the box. Walton reached up in defence to stop the ball from hitting his face.

The ball struck flesh - Walton’s pitching fingers - and flew up into the air, heading for shallow left field. Harshaw changed direction and dove for the ball, but alas is just got by him, and died in the grass. Beauvais rounded third and headed for home as Kolodziej scooped the ball up barehanded. He rifled the ball towards Delgadillo at the plate, and in an instant, the ball and Beauvais arrived at the same time. Delgadillo’s mask and Melvin’s helmet flung out of the way as the two bodies converged briefly - and when all the dust had settled, both players were lying on the ground. Beauvais looked to the plate ump David Driscolli, who was pointing at Francis.

“Show me the ball! Show me the ball!” He shouted, holding his decision.

Delgadillo rolled over slowly and held up his glove, the ball firmly entrenched inside. Driscolli held up his fist, and just like that, we had avoided a tie game. Walton’s fingers were okay, much to our luck, and he actually pitched the next night to earn his first save of the season. Meanwhile, Aitken came out in this game and closed the door with an effortless 9th, good for his 25th save.

The games became more odd. On July 25th, Morales was ejected two batters into the game after giving up a leadoff home run and hitting the next batter - which put Coy Kass into the game, and he gave me 7 solid innings of 3 runs. But in the bottom of the first, George Martinez was ejected for arguing a third strike - and when I came out to defend him, I was tossed not even 10 words into my argument. It was good for my 11th toss of the season, and I was given a standing ovation from the home crowd. Sadly, it was a far cry from my record setting first season.

The next day, we staged an improbable comeback. After taking a 6-5 lead into the 9th, Aitken gave up a 2-out home run to pinch hitter Lawrence Randolph. San Francisco tacked two more runs in the top of the 10th to take an 8-6 lead and send most of the fans to the exits.

Harshaw lead off the 10th with a groundout. Hull then took his third walk of the day, and Martinez continued his hot hitting with a single that put Hull on third. Cancio grounded home Hull, and Martinez slid into second safely. Anyone leaving suddenly hustled back to their seats. Veteran Alex Cuddy stepped up to the plate, hitting all of .191 with 3 RBIs - but there was nobody left on the bench to replace him with, so we were pinning our last hopes on him. With two outs, a runner on second, and an 8-7 game on the line, Cuddy swung rabidly at the first two pitches, missing both curves. He laid off the third, and then on the fourth pitch, an inside fastball, he banged it down the first base line, past a diving Dan Gifford. Martinez trotted home, and the game was tied up again. Cuddy was thrown out at second trying to stretch a single into a double, and the inning ended.

San Francisco went quietly in the 11th, thanks to rookie pitcher Lorenzo Perez’s three strikeouts.

Hickman started the bottom frame with a line out. Taylor singled up the middle, and Kolodziej put him to second with another single up the box.

This set up a situation that would brand a player for the rest of his career. John Harshaw stepped into the dish, and with that charismatic, calming way of holding the bat, he set up in his stance. Like I had done so many times in the past and would do many times in the future, I stared at the 25 on his back, and his name “Harshaw” over top it. His expressionless face stared at veteran pitcher Troy Isaac, and his grip tightened as Isaac wound up. John worked a 2-1 count in his favour.

“Come on, Johnny, be clutch!” Hull yelled from the on-deck circle. “Clutch!”

Isaac wound up and threw a slider - a slider that Harshaw took and blooped just over the second baseman’s head. Taylor dashed for the plate, beating the throw by 10 feet. The crowd went insane, and Taylor was mobbed at the plate, followed by Harshaw, who was running in.

“Johnny Clutch! Johnny Clutch! Johnny Clutch does it all!” Hull screamed as he mobbed Harshaw.

He had gone 3-6 during the game, raising his average to .274 and picking up his 31st RBI. The paper headlines said it all the next day:

“JOHNNY ‘CLUTCH’ SENDS CHICAGO TO IMPROBABLE COMEBACK WIN”.

And with that win, we were 2 games out of first.


But on that same day, Dave Dolman had finished his 14-day suspension, and was due to come back to the team. He claimed to have been clean the whole time and had been throwing to keep his arm in shape. Oberg had some bullpen holes to fill, with three rookies trying to fill big shoes. To make room, Dannie Dones was sent down to Westport after posting a 7.43 ERA, and Dolman came back with his 7.76. An awkward apology came to me from him first; then in front of the whole team.

“I feel like I let you guys down. No - I know I let you guys down. I want to apologize, here and now, and hope we can put things behind us. I let substance get in the way of talent and performance, and the worst part is that I lashed out at a person I respect. I’ve ruined my reputation, and no matter what I do, this will follow me around. All I can ask for is your forgiveness, and that we can work together again to get to the playoffs. That’s all I want to think of now.”

We finished the month 14-14, which put us 3 games behind Milwaukee, and at 57-49. I didn’t really realize it until the season was done, but those games at the end of July was just the start of things to come.

[Jazzmosis]

And here I am, I managed to squeeze in a new chapter! this one goes back to the basics - all baseball, all action. The chapter's a bit shorter, but it's definitely worth the read...

That's all I say.

Coming soon: Chapter 62: All That's Left

[Jazzmosis]

Chapter 62: All That’s Left

August started predictably, with our usual inconsistent play. At August 7th, we were in third, 2 games back from the surprising Pittsburgh for the Wild Card, but only 2.5 out from Milwaukee for the division. Duncan’s ERA had rose to 3.75, but he had been consistent, now sitting at 7-7. He had become the king of the no-decision, but would still strike out 10 batters a game.

Dolman, meanwhile, was still struggling, but we knew he was off the smack. He would have good and bad days - I tried my best to only use him on good days, but sometimes he would melt down, giving up a collection of runs. He was dizzy, anxious, and incredibly irritable - and drank gallons of water. And I mean gallons. After the first week, I set up a cooler just for him - and every game, he would empty it. The team banded together, and picked up a bodyguard for him just so he could be escorted to his hotel room, away from the media’s barrage. When they lost interest a few weeks later, he could travel alone again. But he got out of the public eye for awhile - and slept an awful lot. The symptoms were all typical of an ex-junkie going through withdraw, the trainer told me.

Our first day of officially being in a playoff-bound position was August 15th. It wasn’t really any doing of ours, though - from August 7th-15th we went 3-4. But lucky for us, Pittsburgh went into a tailspin, going 0-7. San Diego pushed their way back up, and out of nowhere, were the team that was tied with us. After a 6-4 win over Colorado that night, we were tied for the Wild Card. Meanwhile, Milwaukee had only pushed their lead to 3.5 games. The wild card was no sure thing, by any means. The teams that were within 5 games of the wild card were Ourselves, San Diego, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Washington DC, and Colorado. If we wanted to stay October bound, we were going to have to find some distance.

As it turns out, the baseball gods were on our side. We had an off day on August 22nd - after going 3-3 in the week - but now it was Milwaukee’s turn to meltdown. Milwaukee went 0-6, and the Pirates went 4-3. Not shockingly, we lost our wildcard lead.

When we came into the off day, we lead Pittsburgh by half a game, and sat 0.5 back from Milwaukee. But the Brewers were matched up against the Pirates - a delight for us. It couldn’t have gone any better than it did - Pittsburgh won 4-0, and all of the sudden, by the end of the night we were in a three-way tie for first place.

After a dismal start to the year, we had quite literally had first place handed to us. DC was coming into town against us - a first place team. I made a point to tell everyone on the team that this was in no way a sure thing.

“Guys, we’re in first. Take in that feeling. But remember, all it takes is one loss to put us in third place. Let’s keep this going, let’s stay up where we belong.”


Chicago came out to sweep DC in three, the final win coming in comeback fashion. It put us 1 game up on Milwaukee and 1.5 up on San Diego. Rodrigo Guillen had given up only 3 earned runs since July 23rd, which was a huge reason we were staying in there. Philadelphia was the next team that visited us - and in the first game, Kolodziej hit a game-tying, two-run homer in the bottom of the 9th to tie it 8-8, and in the tenth Dekker drew a bases loaded walk to literally walk off with the win. The second game, we netted our 6th win in a row - third comeback win in a row, and 70th win overall - when Cancio tied the game up 4-4 in the 8th with his 7th home run, and Clough launched a 1-1 pitch into the second deck one inning later to give us another walkoff win, 5-4. We led by 2 games over both Milwaukee and Pittsburgh.

We finished the sweep off of the Phillies with Duncan’s 9th win. Pittsburgh then stepped into town, 1.5 games back, on August 30th - right after Oberg called up Dominguez in place of Chris Pagel, who was a waiver claim from Texas earlier in the month (who took Lorenzo Perez’s spot on the roster). Morales took his 12th win of the year in the game one of the series, which gave us 8 in a row. The next day, the final of August, Delaney won the game for the 9th straight.

We had gone 17-10 in August, and saw ourselves 2.5 up on Milwaukee, 3.5 on Pittsburgh, and 10 ahead of the Cardinals, who had fallen apart, at 74-58. Spanish Koan won the pitcher of the month award after going 4-0 with a 1.08 ERA.

We won our 10th in a row against Arizona with Guillen’s 11th win, putting him at 11-4. Our 11th win came in a wild game the next night that saw Hickman plate Martinez on a walkoff single for a 10-9 score.

We beat Arizona on September 3rd. But we had to earn this win. Zang looked to give us the majority of the game when he went 6 shutout innings, but he ended up not even going a third. The game took a franchise record 19 innings to play, which saw us come back not once, but twice. Cancio hit a pinch-hit home run in the bottom of the 10th, to tie it 2-2. However, after another 8 innings, Harshaw scored on a plate at the plate from Clough’s single, and we won 3-2. It took all our relievers and position players, and a miracle 4 inning performance from Dominguez. It also gave us a 4 game lead over Milwaukee.

Arizona was swept the next day, in a far cleaner 6-4, 9 inning game, which netted Aitken his 35th save. Kolodziej rapped a triple in the 8th that scored Hickman, and Simoneaux brought him in with a sac fly. We had 13 in a row.

We travelled to St. Louis, who had played us well all year - and won our 14th in a row, 3-2.

September 6th saw Guillen back on the mound, and it also saw him win his 12th game of the year, and our 15th in a row, on a complete game four hitter.


Alas, the winning streak that had attracted national attention halted on September 7th. Ironically enough, it ended with two on in the 9th, and George Martinez hitting a flyout to the wall. The streak had gave us a four game lead over Milwaukee, who had gone 11-4 over the course of our streak. Our magic number was 13, and the excitement of the playoffs was only hitting us now.

The Cubs went on a mini three-game winning streak from the 13th-15th. However, we had only dropped the magic number to 12. The better we played, it seemed that Milwaukee was holding onto the rope behind us, and trying to climb up.

September 22nd netted Aitken his 40th save, good for second in the NL, behind my friend Augustus McDonald. Meanwhile, it put us back into a 5 game win streak, which dropped our magic number to 5, with a 5 game lead.

Unfortunately, we bombed the next 4 games, which dropped our lead to only 1.5 games. We won, then lost on September 28th, which dropped our lead to just half a game. Pittsburgh loomed with an outside chance, but with only four games left to play, if we won the next game, we were in the playoffs.

We had 90 wins, and the final four games was against St. Louis and Pittsburgh. The races were winding down all over the league - Toronto, Arizona, Florida, and Anaheim had already clinched. Detroit and Minnesota was fighting for the division, and Milwaukee and us were fighting to get home field advantage in the playoffs - assuming we made it.

Guillen would start on the 29th - and the final few days would be very eventful.

[PBL Commish]

missed last chapter but caught back up


How do you come up with all this stuff lol like the Cocaine and the off the field stuff

[Jazzmosis]

Shockingly, I'm here with yet another update to Mark Jazzington - and frankly, I've been writing my a** off, and I've now got regular chapters coming your way for at least the next four weeks!

This one just finishes off the season, but brings back some nostagala... so enjoy!

[Jazzmosis]

Chapter 63: The Final Eight

In our last home game of the regular season, and it didn’t take half a guess to tell that everyone wanted to see us clinch a playoff spot at home. Nobody wanted to make the games against Pittsburgh high pressure, and a win by us guaranteed our postseason berth. Pittsburgh sat 3.5 games out, taking an off day. They had to win out, assuming we lost against the Cardinals.

St. Louis was throwing Darrel Odle, who we had faced 4 times before. He’d thrown well, with a 1-1 record and a 2.39 ERA over 26.1 innings. However, Guillen had been even better, going 3-0 in three starts, complete with a ridiculous 0.86 ERA in 21 innings. If anything, Guillen wanted to pick up his 13th win in style.

It was two hours before the game when fans were already starting to fill the empty seats. It was a sellout crowd - but that was to be expected. The hype over this game was huge, And St. Louis, eliminated a week earlier, loved to play spoiler - especially since the year before we ruined their party by squeezing them out of the division championship. Of course, they had eventually gone to the World Series and lost in 7 to New York, which made them the reigning NL champions - at least for a few more games. They had played us to a record of 10-8, meaning the season series was ours, but this game was probably the biggest of them all.

I was standing just outside of the dugout, talking with Steve Schermerhorn and Anderson. Pitching coach Brandon Heath was way out in left field, working with Dominguez on his split-finger. Heath was always out there, working with the pitchers - which may have been a reason we rarely spoke that year. Anderson was always around me during the warmups, talking hitting. The man literally lived hitting, and rumour had it that his wife left him because of his obsession for it. He had played right field in the 80s, and hit .320 for an injury-shortened career. He was the National League batting champ in ‘84, hitting .351. Schermerhorn, of course, had only retired a few years ago, and apart from being my infield instructor, the 40 year old doubled as my third base coach.

It was during this conversation, a conversation about George Martinez’ recent hot hitting, that a man called me from inside the tunnel.

I excused myself and greeted the man, who was in grey coveralls. Behind him was two other people, with a giant bucket filled with champagne on a wheel cart.

“You’re Mark Jazzington, correct?” The man said, extending his hand.

“Yeah.” I answered, my attention on the bucket behind him.

“Your assistant General Manager, Ryan Pettigras, told me to talk to you about the champagne.”

I swallowed hard. “What about it?”

“Where do you want it?”

“Christ!” I started to yell, but stopped myself. “Just get it out of sight! I don’t even want to think about it!”

“But we need to put it somewhere. . .”

“Fine,” I hissed. “Put it in the storage room B. Just be quick. I don’t want any of the players to see it.”


He nodded and shuttled it off. I watched as they disappeared down the tunnel, the nerves jumping up in my throat. I had been through the champagne routine last year, but that was on the very last day. I didn’t want to jinx that game, knowing that the prize was so close and being unable to reach it.


The game started at 7:05PM, Central Standard Time. The stands were jam packed with fans, absolutely no empty seat visible. Guillen quickly gave up a double to the first batter, but got Hadel to pop out. Henry Damm singled, which put Aman at third. Dorado hit into a force out, which brought in Aman,
and scored two batters later on a single. Just like that, we were down 2-0.

Kolodziej led off the bottom half for us, playing first base. On the first pitch he saw, he deposited a ball into the gap, which died at the track. He motored around the basepaths, sliding into third safely with a leadoff triple. Aaron Taylor grounded out, and Walter trotted home. We trailed 2-1.

The score remained that way until the 4th. After Simoneaux grounded out, Hull walked. Gober flew out, which Martinez followed with a hard single to right. Cancio stepped up, and took a hack at a 2-1 pitch he liked from Odle. The ball jumped into the air, and the crowd roared up with anxious cheers. Damm chased the ball as it looked to die in the gap in right-centre, but it just stayed up long enough to drop over the wall. The bench pumped fists and yelled as the crowd deafened us. With Cancio’s 12th jack of the year