[SelzShoes]

“Relax! Relax? Larry, the season hasn’t opened yet and we’re already $300,000 in the hole?”

MacPhail seethed at his partner. Topping and Webb had brought money but no baseball sense to the matter. Now, sooner than expected, one of the money boys was trying to run the club too. “Everyone had restarting costs; ours are just a bit higher. We’ll be in the black by seasons end.”

Dan Topping placed his hands on MacPhail’s desk, as if trying to intimidate the General Manager, “Not everyone has close to a million dollar payroll! And you’re trying to trade for Dixie Walker? Another $17,000 in salary?”

“Actually he makes $16,600. We need a centerfielder and those chumps in Portland won’t trade their guy to us.” MacPhail loved to catch people on details, made it seem like he was the only on paying attention to the conversation. In reality it just made the other person angrier.

“Del and I agree you have been far too casual with the payroll.”

MacPhail said nothing.

“We have decided that until this club is showing a profit, you are forbidden to add payroll.” Topping and Webb entered into this partnership with MacPhail because of the allure of owning, and profiting from, the most popular ball team in the world. Leland MacPhail seemed only concerned with winning.

The smug started rising from MacPhail, “the Yankees do not cut payroll.”

The money man shook his head, “This isn’t a church—there is nothing sacred about a f-----g baseball team.”

In one swoop MacPhail swung his arm and cleared his desk onto the feet of Topping. Glass, paper and metal hit the floor in a symphony of chaos. Topping jumped back startled. His aggressive stance had evaporated. MacPhail’s reputation for moments of insanity pushed with tremendous force.

“How many pennants are you responsible for Dan?” The words dripped with acid. “I built the Reds that won in 39 and 40. I won in Brooklyn in 1941. How many pennants can you take credit for?”

Topping tried to speak.

MacPhail was too quick, “That’s right zero. Z-E-R-O. Now when we lose because you refuse to open the purse strings, don’t blame me. I know I’ll get no credit when we win.” Topping was so focused on MacPhail’s eyes and words; he did not see Leland grab the lamp.

The lamp shattered against the wall producing a flurry of glass. Dan fought his instinct to run. “You are to make no more moves without the approval of Webb and I.” Topping eased out towards the door, careful not to completely turn his back on MacPhail.

“Slink on out like the girl you are Topping. When I line your pockets with wads of cash, remember who made it possible.”