[SelzShoes]

On time as usual, Leland MacPhail arrived at the Stadium's office. The Dodgers, the team he left, the team he built, had just finished sweeping the Yankees. In a flash, the most expensive team in the history of baseball was under .500.

As MacPhail strode through the office the clusters of worker bees broke quickly towards their individuals desk. Work started the moment MacPhail entered the office and woe unto the desk jockey who was caught tardy to his desk. Nothing infuriated the General Manager more than the lack of effort.

He stopped at the entrance to his office, door already open, lights turned on. Whip fast his body snapped to face the sea of desk. Purple with rage, Leland's teeth clinched so tightly no one understood the question he asked. The puzzled looks in response to his gurgling only angered him more.

"Larry, get in here," the voice of co-owner Dan Topping came from his office. For no reason, MacPhail wagged his finger accusingly at the office, as if warning of hell to come.

"Dan. Mel. How lovely to see you this morning," MacPhail's voice had the sickly sweet aroma of bourbon. "Let me guess, that p---y McCarthy cried to you again to save his job."

"You can't fire a manager for losing a game or a series Leland," Mel Webb, usually the quiet of the two went on the attack. "Joe McCarthy is one of the finest managers in baseball, he needs time with this club."

"I am the General Manager, I need the authority to fire the manager whenever I want." MacPhail made his way to his sidebar and started to pour a drink. "First you take my budget and now you take my authority." Topping and Webb, since the start of Spring Training had tried to be more involved in the day-to-day operation than their original intentions indicated. If they wanted a war for the soul of the team; then war they would have.