Beagle League Confidential Episode 30
September 15, 2003
Written by Dan Bogey

(Read the Previous Beagle League Confidential Episodes here)

After dropping off Jason Eminem I wiggled out of the heavy goombah coat, popped a Mentos into my mouth, cranked up the volume on the radio and sang along with Warren Zevon, "Send lawyers, guns and money. Dad, get me out of this." While I admit to feeling a bit of apprehension about the method used to obtain my evidence, any desire to utilize Warren's triumvirate of foolproof problem-solvers quickly dissipated under the giddy knowledge that I finally had the goods on Biggie.

I was wary of screwing things up by moving to rapidly so I decided to wait for the opportune time to use my damning evidence to the greatest effect. Just as Billy Martin had long realized George Brett's unhealthy propensity for pine tar but waited until the revelation would help him the most, I decided to bide my time for a few days. My buoyant spirits rubbed off on my team as hitherto season-long stiffs like Shawn Green, Edgardo Alfonzo and Craig Wilson suddenly sprang to life, hitting home runs and knocking in fistfuls of RBIs. My exhilaration reached its greatest height one day when I checked the online standings and discovered the top three teams ½ a point apart, with my name was first.
I would have been grateful if the season had ended there, but it still had two and half weeks to go. Then Nomo was shelved for a couple of starts and the loss of Jose Reyes began to burden my stolen bases points. Suddenly the Jason tape started whispering, "Don't blow it." So I set about calling league members to arrange a mass appointment with as many as possible, to spill the disturbing beans. I soon discovered that everyone was either out of town, in a meeting or otherwise indisposed.

It seemed that the only way to get an audience with a league member was to use the personal approach. My best bet was Teddy, the used car dealership notary. I knew where he was and he was a captive audience. I breezed by the receptionist's upturned hand into Teddy's grubby office, one step ahead of his slamming the door. I slapped $8 down on his desk and said,

"Teddy, eight bucks for a half an hour of your time, right?" He sighed and sagged down in his chair as I pressed play on the tiny tape recorder. The tape played perfectly and Jason clearly and painstakingly enunciated each vile point in his unholy alliance with Biggie. When it was over Teddy stood up and said,

"That doesn't sound like Jason to me."

I jumped up and began screaming that I made him talk slowly and clearly so he'd be understood and how the two of them had ripped off the entire league last year and were close to doing it again this year. I admit I was a bit overwrought, what with the strain involved in coercing the confession and my disappointment in his reaction to the tape. The commotion I caused resulted in the room being quickly filled by the receptionist, a salesman and a couple of burly mechanics. I decided it would be best to try my luck elsewhere and as I bulled my way past the muttering crowd and into the hall, I heard Teddy yell,

"The word's out on you, Wanker, you're out of control!"

After driving around aimlessly, as luck would have it, I spied the Lamuel Septic Service truck and none other than Beagle Leaguer Samuel Lamuel himself standing beside it monitoring the flow of waste from a homeowner's tank into the truck. I took the opportunity to play him my tape and as it ran, I told him all about the reaction I got from Teddy. I was relieved when the tape ended and he said,

"That seems possible, but what do you see happening with this?"

I explained that at the best Biggie would be drummed out of the league in disgrace and at the very least the trade would be voided and he'd lose the accumulated stats, ensuring him a finish out of the money.

"Never happen," said Samuel Lamuel, "Nobody wants the job of commissioner. It's a lot of work keeping a league together. Most of these guys are into football by now, anyway, and if they happened to finish in the money and pick up a few bucks, it'd just be a bonus. These guys are in it for fun."

Fun-getting ripped off and manipulated by an egomaniac is no way to have fun.

I had one more card to play and the only place to play it was the O'Hara Funeral Home.