(This post is intended to be solely for humor. It is unrealistic, not intended to be an accurate representation of the personalities involved, nor to defame any individual involved. The personalities attached to the names are extreme caricatures chosen primarily because, well, they're funny. Views given by said caricatures also do not necessarily have any relation to the views of the author(s). Conversation posts were inspired by the hilarious conversation posts done by Orson Swindle at Every Day Should Be Saturday.)
(Dave Dombrowski, general manager of the Detroit Tigers, sits in a large throne chair behind the desk in his office clad in a gray, pinstriped suit, white shirt, and gold power tie. He furiously flips back and forth through scouting reports while gulping down coffee. There is a knock at his door.)
Dombrowski: “Yes, come in. Who is it?”
(Jim Leyland pushes the door open and slowly walks through. He is wearing his managing uniform, which looks as though it hasn’t been washed in weeks. Leyland looks disheveled and is smoking a cigarette.)
Leyland: “You said you wanted to see me, sir?”
Dombrowski (without looking up from his scouting reports): “Ah, yes, Jim, come in, sit down.” (Leyland ambles forward, taking a few relaxed puffs on his cigarette, and sits in the folding chair opposite Dombrowski.) “I hope that chair is comfortable. I’ve been meaning to get a replacement, but with the budget and all… I’m sure you understand. Now then, I want to talk to you about your suggestions for improving the team.”
Leyland (puts out his cigarette and immediately lights another, exhaling smoke as he speaks): “Yeah. Our offense was strong as hell last year… Better than when we went to the World Series two years ago. I feel like our pitching faltered down the stretch so we should go try and get a few more hurlers.”
Dombrowski (his nose twitches as he glares up at Leyland): “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Jim?”
Leyland (takes another drag of his cigarette without breaking Dombrowski’s gaze): “Not at all, Dave, it’s just – ”
Dombrowski: “You do realize who I am, right? Dave Dombrowski?”
Leyland (Takes a long drag and sighs out the smoke): “Yeah, Dave…”
Dombrowski: “The Dave Dombrowski that was hired as the youngest ever GM in baseball history? Tell me, who is that statue in the back corner of?”
Leyland (turns and notices a full-size statue of Dave Dombrowski in the back corner of the office for the first time): “Why the hell did you have a statue made of yourself and put in your office? Is that marble?!”
Dombrowski (with a smug smile on his face): “Hell yes it is. Pure gold was too expensive; budgets again, Jim. All great leaders have statues made of them. Lincoln, Washington, Roosevelt… and Dombrowski. Soak it in; let the greatness of the Dombrowski flow over you. Now then, the regarding the team… We’re going to give up Maybin, Miller, Rabelo, Badenhop, de la Cruz, and Trahern to the Marlins for Miguel Cabrera and Dontrelle Willis.”
Leyland (lights a second cigarette and takes his first drag before putting the other cigarette out): “All those prospects for Cabrera and Willis? I mean, Cabrera’s a great ballplayer, but we need pitching and that Willis kid –”
Dombrowski (slams his coffee mug on the table, splashing coffee over the scouting reports. His face turns red and a vein starts throbbing in his forehead): “What did I just tell you about my job, Leyland? It’s my job, I do it. Who made that 2006 World Series team for you? Who made it so all you had to do was sit and watch the games from the bench? Who got you those players, Jim??”
Leyland (rolls his eyes slightly as he lets out a puff of smoke): “Okay, I get your point Dave.”
Dombrowski: “Who got you those players, Jim?!?”
Leyland: “You did.”
Dombrowski (rising to his feet and leaning forward onto his desk, and yelling at Leyland): “Who did?!?”
Leyland (sighing indignantly, thinking to himself “goddamn kids these days.”): “The Dombrowski did.”
Dombrowski: “Damn straight he did.” (Dombrowski pauses momentarily to kiss his closed hand, hit it against his chest and salute his fist towards the Dombrowski statue before sitting back down.) “Inge killed us last year. Cabrera at third gives us an offense explosive that even their elderly, sedate manager has to get excited over.” (Leyland fidgets uncomfortably in his folding chair.) “The Dombrowski will be known for creating the best offense ever seen. Don’t screw this up and you’ll be in Cooperstown, Jim. This team is going to hit opponents harder than Frank Dux in the Kumite tournament.”
(Leyland sighes again and thinks to himself: “This guy is insane.” He slowly gets up and starts to walk out the door.)
Dombrowski (continuing, eyes wild as he pores over his now coffee stained scouting reports, oblivious to Leyland walking out): “It’s going to be beautiful, Jim! Never doubt the Dombrowski!! Think of the adoration… Everyone will know that I created this team! Me! The Dombrowski! DOMBROWSKI!!!”
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