"No, don't stop...please don't stop..."
Pat Gillick wasn't yelling at JRol rounding third. He was dreaming. Dreaming about how he and David took The Rocket to dinner at Chickie & Petes and convinced him that Philly was the place to be. What with the King Tut exhibit, the Constitution Center, and Kenny Chesney at the Linc, well, come on. Are you kidding me?
The Rocket was about to put the pen to paper when he stopped...
Gillick was out like a Pat Burrell strike on a two-seamer that razored off a half inch of the plate, making the pretty outfielder buckle at the knees and look to the heavens like he was talking to God and God said, "Pat, get the damn bat off your shoulder."
The Phillies GM finally woke from his slumber on the tenth ring of his cell; reaching for it and knocking it off the nightstand, he managed to get it and open it on the 14th and final ring.
"Pat, that you?"
"Yea, who the hell is this?"
"It's Brian, Pat, Brian Cashman. How's it going buddy? Did I wake you?"
"No," Gillick told him, "I was going over some minor league rosters." Gillick looked at the clock. Holy hell it was 3 a.m.
"Listen Pat, you know the problems we are having with our fans and A-Rod. And I know you've been trying to unload Pat Burrell. What would you think about a swap. A-Rod for Burrell straight up."
Gillick was trying to get his bearings. It was only a few hours since he was sucking the last few drops of Jack Daniels from the ice in the hotel bar. His head hurt and things were blurry. He managed to stumble over to the bureau and open the Yankees press guide and he put his hand on the roster. His finger slid down to the list of outfielders.
"Throw in Cabera and you've got a deal, Cashman."
"Pat, what are you smoking? I'm offering you perhaps the best player in the game for guy who can't hit his way out of the Tampa Doll House and you want Melky Cabera, too?"
"We threw in Lidle didn't we, when you stole Bobby? Come on Brian, fair is fair. Sure, A-Rod might be the best, but he's also the highest paid. Plus we got Helms at third and Jimmy at short. We'll have to make some adjustments."
"Who's Helms, Pat, I don't think I've ever heard of him? Look, it's late. Why don't I call you later this afternoon, like around 4 o'clock. Think you'll be up by then?"
"Sure," Gillick said. "Hey, how's Johnny Damon doing? We hear he hurt his wrist again. Brian, you need any starters? We got some extra ones."
"Pat, get some rest. You sound tired. I'll be back to you."
To be continued...