DISCLAIMER: Possible long write up.
December 28, 2015
7:46pmMST
Somewhere outside Phoenix, AZ
His hands were sweaty as he grabbed onto his car keys. “Come on baby … just start,” he begged his car.
He cranked it.
It struggled, the engine in it slowly starting up, and then cuts off.
His fist collided with the steering wheel. “Dang it!” He got out of his car and stood off it, staring. “Just start already!”
His silver 1995 Honda Accord, with the backseat door dented on the driver's side, did nothing to answer him.
He began to pace, his eyes looking out into the distance. Nothing but desert and here he was, stuck on some abandoned back road, with a busted car.
He was late for a front office meeting and this was his first one ever … this was the thing he was looking forward to all week. Things were looking up.
He took out his Samsung Galaxy and grimaced. Still no service. Then suddenly thunder sounded and it was like boat load of water poured down on him.
He was dead out here unless he got his car to cooperate.
He hurried back into the car and shut the door, his hands firmly on the steering wheel. “All right…I’ll make a deal with you.” He caressed it for a moment, trying to relax his car or himself: most likely both. “If you start now we can make the meeting before it’s over…we’ll be late but at least we’ll be there. If you do this for me I promise you I'll finally get that dent out.”
He grabbed the keys again and reiterated, “I swear. This is no joke. You'll be pretty again.” He took a deep breath and started the ignition. Again the engine rumbled to life and then it started to struggle...
It pulled through.
DJ Snake's Lean On blasted through the speakers and he sighed in relief. He buckled up and stepped on the gas.
It wasn’t more than thirty minutes later when his phone got service back. He was already an hour late to the meeting so he figured he’d have some missed calls.
He didn’t figure he’d have 47 of them! Most from family and friends.
Fear rose up inside of him. Had one of his family members had an accident? Was someone in trouble?
He glanced at the clock and saw that he was going to be cutting it close. Making the end of the meeting didn’t seem important now.
He pulled off into town at a McDonald's, a place he hated but it was the first place he saw.
He called his Mom up.
“Oh My GOD!” She screamed into the phone. He recoiled but she kept on. “Are you all right?! What happened?! Please, tell me you’re all right!”
“Mom, mom, hold on,” he yelled into the phone, annoyed. What was she talking about? “Why are you and everyone else calling me all of the sudden? What’s going on?”
There was a strange silence on the other end of the line. His mother’s voice got very quiet. “You don’t know, where are you?”
He winced at her, “Mom, what is going on?”
“…a huge stormed hit Jonny…near the Suns arena…there was a tornado.”
Jonny’s eyes widened. “What?”
“They’re saying lots of people were dead or severely injured some are missing… it’s all over the news.”
His throat went dry. “Mom, I got to go.”
“I’m sorry, Jonny.”
He didn’t answer, just ended the call. He leapt out of the car and sprinted into McDonald's.
Everyone there was transfixed on the TV.
The volume was on.
“ …and recent reports have confirmed the deaths of at least a dozen individuals in the aftermath of a devastating tornado, with at least seven more critically wounded. For those of you just joining us, the developing story is that a severe thunderstorm hit in Phoenix and a huge tornado with record breaking winds emerged from it undetected and hit near the US Airways Center...though the arena was not severely damaged the surrounding area took the worse of it. Citizens were still on the streets trying to get to a safe place most of being Suns' front office officials...This will go down as one of the most destructive storm in recent history in the Phoenix area.
Jonny stared at the screen as the images of people crying filled the screen.
He slumped down in a nearby chair.
One Week Later…
11:23amMST
This was a disaster. Robert Sarver sat in his private jet, his plane flying into Phoenix. He hadn’t slept well in a week now…the storm continued to surface from his mind. He was supposed to make an appearance at the meeting but skipped so he could play some golf.
He missed the storm. He was lucky.
But the thought that he could be dead…that he could be in some afterlife or stuck in a personal hell right now…it kept him up at night. It kept him from sleeping much at all. He had to turn to pills in order to get his rest.
He rubbed his forehead and poured himself a drink. Maybe it was too early in the day for this but he didn’t care at this point. He needed this drink to calm his nerves and shut his mind up.
“You really should cut back on that.”
He glanced over at his personal assistant and frowned at her, “Don't go and tell my wife.”
“Do I tell her anything?” The lithe blonde responded back with a smirk.
He rolled his eyes. Youth…ignorant. Stupid. Cocky. They were good at only one thing: Wasting money.
Sitting across from him she brought out an iPad and began to scroll through it. “You need to make a decision on the front office.”
“What front office?” He shot back angrily. After a moment he sighed and rubbed his forehead again. “Sorry, Katherine.”
She stared at him. “Most of your front office is gone.”
“I know.”
“Dead from the storm.”
He gripped his glass tighter. “I know.”
She leaned forward. “So what do we do?”
He set his glass down and stared out the window. Phoenix was below them. They’d be landing in ten minutes or so. “We’re going to pay the contracts to all those that died in the storm…their families will get money.”
“Really?” She asked surprised.
He looked at her and nodded. “It’s not about the money…not this time. If we start citing clauses and try to cut costs on this the PR nightmare will kill this rest of this season. People are still up in arms over how poorly the team has played.” He sighed. “So we’ll pay that. We just need a stop gap measure for this year.”
Katherine scrolled through her iPad. “Paying out those contracts to the deceased is going to take a good chunk of this year’s projected budget.”
He had done the math. He was aware of that. Why did she assume he wasn’t? “And?” He asked, annoyed.
“And…well, hiring even a temporary front office staff at usual league rates, for only a year, will put us almost over budget.” She looked up at him knowingly. “You hate that.”
“I do.” He poured himself another drink and knocked it down in one shot.
“What about that scout…the one who lived I think he missed the meeting too?”
She scrolled through her iPad. “Boss, Jonathan… he’s actually still working.”
Robert looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Really?”
“He didn’t take the leave granted to him…odd.”
“Maybe…maybe he’s what we need.”
She chuckled, “He’s a scout, not a GM. We have others who survived the storm more qualified.”
Ignoring her response he continued, “He’s paid like a scout…we can give him a modest bump in salary, give him the reins to the team for the rest of the year.”
She stared at him. “You're not serious are you?”
“Couldn't be anymore serious, Katerine.”
She put her iPad down and pointed at him, “You can’t be serious! He’s only 26…he’s younger than me!"
“He’s a temporary measure…he’ll get paid cheap." He sat back in his chair, a feeling of satisfaction rising up in him. “We’ll let him hire some people…we’ll keep the staff small and keep them on one year deals. After the season we simply cut them loose and start the process of looking for real talent in the front office.”
She cast a glance out the window. “And the fans?”
“The media will eat this up…26 year old scout, one of a few survivors from a horrendous event, the least qualified, being put in charge of a team? They’ll love it. We’ll win the PR battle and by the time the season is over everyone will have forgotten about this.”
"And if he does a great job other teams will jump on him and we'll look like fools."
"That's a big if, Katerine." He poured himself another glass and smirked at her. “However if he is good I'll look like genius and we'll get good front office talent for cheap.”
“Cheap…your favorite word.”
He shook his head. “My dear, it’s not about cheapness…it’s about playing it safe."
“And this is safe?”
He drank from his glass and set it down. “It’s a win-win either way…this is as safe as it gets.”
December 28, 2015
7:46pmMST
Somewhere outside Phoenix, AZ
His hands were sweaty as he grabbed onto his car keys. “Come on baby … just start,” he begged his car.
He cranked it.
It struggled, the engine in it slowly starting up, and then cuts off.
His fist collided with the steering wheel. “Dang it!” He got out of his car and stood off it, staring. “Just start already!”
His silver 1995 Honda Accord, with the backseat door dented on the driver's side, did nothing to answer him.
He began to pace, his eyes looking out into the distance. Nothing but desert and here he was, stuck on some abandoned back road, with a busted car.
He was late for a front office meeting and this was his first one ever … this was the thing he was looking forward to all week. Things were looking up.
He took out his Samsung Galaxy and grimaced. Still no service. Then suddenly thunder sounded and it was like boat load of water poured down on him.
He was dead out here unless he got his car to cooperate.
He hurried back into the car and shut the door, his hands firmly on the steering wheel. “All right…I’ll make a deal with you.” He caressed it for a moment, trying to relax his car or himself: most likely both. “If you start now we can make the meeting before it’s over…we’ll be late but at least we’ll be there. If you do this for me I promise you I'll finally get that dent out.”
He grabbed the keys again and reiterated, “I swear. This is no joke. You'll be pretty again.” He took a deep breath and started the ignition. Again the engine rumbled to life and then it started to struggle...
It pulled through.
DJ Snake's Lean On blasted through the speakers and he sighed in relief. He buckled up and stepped on the gas.
It wasn’t more than thirty minutes later when his phone got service back. He was already an hour late to the meeting so he figured he’d have some missed calls.
He didn’t figure he’d have 47 of them! Most from family and friends.
Fear rose up inside of him. Had one of his family members had an accident? Was someone in trouble?
He glanced at the clock and saw that he was going to be cutting it close. Making the end of the meeting didn’t seem important now.
He pulled off into town at a McDonald's, a place he hated but it was the first place he saw.
He called his Mom up.
“Oh My GOD!” She screamed into the phone. He recoiled but she kept on. “Are you all right?! What happened?! Please, tell me you’re all right!”
“Mom, mom, hold on,” he yelled into the phone, annoyed. What was she talking about? “Why are you and everyone else calling me all of the sudden? What’s going on?”
There was a strange silence on the other end of the line. His mother’s voice got very quiet. “You don’t know, where are you?”
He winced at her, “Mom, what is going on?”
“…a huge stormed hit Jonny…near the Suns arena…there was a tornado.”
Jonny’s eyes widened. “What?”
“They’re saying lots of people were dead or severely injured some are missing… it’s all over the news.”
His throat went dry. “Mom, I got to go.”
“I’m sorry, Jonny.”
He didn’t answer, just ended the call. He leapt out of the car and sprinted into McDonald's.
Everyone there was transfixed on the TV.
The volume was on.
“ …and recent reports have confirmed the deaths of at least a dozen individuals in the aftermath of a devastating tornado, with at least seven more critically wounded. For those of you just joining us, the developing story is that a severe thunderstorm hit in Phoenix and a huge tornado with record breaking winds emerged from it undetected and hit near the US Airways Center...though the arena was not severely damaged the surrounding area took the worse of it. Citizens were still on the streets trying to get to a safe place most of being Suns' front office officials...This will go down as one of the most destructive storm in recent history in the Phoenix area.
Jonny stared at the screen as the images of people crying filled the screen.
He slumped down in a nearby chair.
One Week Later…
11:23amMST
This was a disaster. Robert Sarver sat in his private jet, his plane flying into Phoenix. He hadn’t slept well in a week now…the storm continued to surface from his mind. He was supposed to make an appearance at the meeting but skipped so he could play some golf.
He missed the storm. He was lucky.
But the thought that he could be dead…that he could be in some afterlife or stuck in a personal hell right now…it kept him up at night. It kept him from sleeping much at all. He had to turn to pills in order to get his rest.
He rubbed his forehead and poured himself a drink. Maybe it was too early in the day for this but he didn’t care at this point. He needed this drink to calm his nerves and shut his mind up.
“You really should cut back on that.”
He glanced over at his personal assistant and frowned at her, “Don't go and tell my wife.”
“Do I tell her anything?” The lithe blonde responded back with a smirk.
He rolled his eyes. Youth…ignorant. Stupid. Cocky. They were good at only one thing: Wasting money.
Sitting across from him she brought out an iPad and began to scroll through it. “You need to make a decision on the front office.”
“What front office?” He shot back angrily. After a moment he sighed and rubbed his forehead again. “Sorry, Katherine.”
She stared at him. “Most of your front office is gone.”
“I know.”
“Dead from the storm.”
He gripped his glass tighter. “I know.”
She leaned forward. “So what do we do?”
He set his glass down and stared out the window. Phoenix was below them. They’d be landing in ten minutes or so. “We’re going to pay the contracts to all those that died in the storm…their families will get money.”
“Really?” She asked surprised.
He looked at her and nodded. “It’s not about the money…not this time. If we start citing clauses and try to cut costs on this the PR nightmare will kill this rest of this season. People are still up in arms over how poorly the team has played.” He sighed. “So we’ll pay that. We just need a stop gap measure for this year.”
Katherine scrolled through her iPad. “Paying out those contracts to the deceased is going to take a good chunk of this year’s projected budget.”
He had done the math. He was aware of that. Why did she assume he wasn’t? “And?” He asked, annoyed.
“And…well, hiring even a temporary front office staff at usual league rates, for only a year, will put us almost over budget.” She looked up at him knowingly. “You hate that.”
“I do.” He poured himself another drink and knocked it down in one shot.
“What about that scout…the one who lived I think he missed the meeting too?”
She scrolled through her iPad. “Boss, Jonathan… he’s actually still working.”
Robert looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Really?”
“He didn’t take the leave granted to him…odd.”
“Maybe…maybe he’s what we need.”
She chuckled, “He’s a scout, not a GM. We have others who survived the storm more qualified.”
Ignoring her response he continued, “He’s paid like a scout…we can give him a modest bump in salary, give him the reins to the team for the rest of the year.”
She stared at him. “You're not serious are you?”
“Couldn't be anymore serious, Katerine.”
She put her iPad down and pointed at him, “You can’t be serious! He’s only 26…he’s younger than me!"
“He’s a temporary measure…he’ll get paid cheap." He sat back in his chair, a feeling of satisfaction rising up in him. “We’ll let him hire some people…we’ll keep the staff small and keep them on one year deals. After the season we simply cut them loose and start the process of looking for real talent in the front office.”
She cast a glance out the window. “And the fans?”
“The media will eat this up…26 year old scout, one of a few survivors from a horrendous event, the least qualified, being put in charge of a team? They’ll love it. We’ll win the PR battle and by the time the season is over everyone will have forgotten about this.”
"And if he does a great job other teams will jump on him and we'll look like fools."
"That's a big if, Katerine." He poured himself another glass and smirked at her. “However if he is good I'll look like genius and we'll get good front office talent for cheap.”
“Cheap…your favorite word.”
He shook his head. “My dear, it’s not about cheapness…it’s about playing it safe."
“And this is safe?”
He drank from his glass and set it down. “It’s a win-win either way…this is as safe as it gets.”
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