Baseball's Night at the Movies, Part One Bob's Backstop for October 11, 2005

Hollywood is missing out. Instead of recycling old TV Shows or making yet another Gladiator clone (didn't they understand that it wasn't the swords and sandals, it was Russell Crowe? If they can't figure that out, I'm sure there are lots of Belfry wives who can set them straight. The other night, my wife watched some obscure Australian WWII movie starring Bryan Brown (of "F/x", "Cocktail", and "Breaker Morant" fame) just so she could get a ten-minute glimpse of the aforementioned bohunk) , they could be combining baseball with some classic movies themes, like the old mansion with its mysteries, or a take on a certain classic gangster film...

The Budfather

A paneled room, shuttered against the daylight. Well-dressed men glide about the smoke-filled room. The clinking of ice in heavy glasses and the occasional murmur are the only sounds. An older man sits upright in an overstuffed leather armchair at the room's center. A lieutenant approaches and bends over, cupping his hand over the older man's ear as he whispers. The old man nods, and the lieutenant withdraws.

The heavy wooden door opens. A well-dressed man stands, hat in hand, rhythmically turning the brim of the expensive hat in his sweaty fingers.

The old man gestures him closer. "Come in, come in, Mister Lerner. You are always welcome in my house. My hospitality is at your disposal."

The man approaches, bows slightly at the waist. "Mister Selig. I have come to you this day to ask a favor."

"And what might that be, my friend?"

"It is this man that has come to town, this...Jeff Smulyan."

"Go on."

"Well, he's gathering his forces for a hit on us. William Collins has been here longer than anyone, and I've been working in this territory for years. We've both worked hard to please you, Mister Selig. We've done everything you've asked...bid fees, dancing girls...I even bankrolled that Dukes of Hazzard movie you asked me to. I even hired that bimbo Jessica Simpson, the one that found Daisy Duke to be a stretch..."

The old man nods as he chuckles. "Yes, yes, the Dukes. I always loved that Boss Hogg. Yes. I remember all that. What does that have to do with Jeffrey?"

"As I was saying, we've done everything you've asked. I know you can only pick one of us to be the Boss of the territory. I know that, and I've agreed to abide by your decision, whether it be Collins or me. But this Smulyan, coming out of Indianapolis with his mob, trying to make some local alliances...it just isn't right. Everyone saw when he did when he was in charge out in Seattle. He was cheap, petty...nothing turned around out there until he was gone. and now you're going to consider him for the Washington territory? What have we done to deserve this?"

"Jeffrey has some good points, Mister Lerner. He knows the media, for one thing. It's his business. And he knows when to keep quiet. I like that. You and Mister Collins, you make people nervous. You talk too much."

"So you are behind his bid to take over, aren't you?"

"Let's say that Jeffrey's interests...are my interests. He keeps his mouth closed, and I know he doesn't give any players a twenty-million-a -season seven year contract. My people don't like it when that happens. It upsets things." The old man shrugged. "Let's face it, we don't know what you or Collins would do. I do know what Jeff Smulyan will do. And Washington is a cash cow. I could put my idiot son Fredo in charge. Not even he could screw up the Nationals' cash flow."

"You're not going to get away with this!"

"Oh, no?" Sighs. "Look, Mister Lerner, you've been a decent guy about all this, but you're out of your league. Did you notice the way the Boston sale went down? Or the swap of the Expos and the Marlins?"

Lerner's head droops. "Yes. I did."

"and you think we can't control the DC situation?"

The old man sighed, and went on. "You feel cheated. As if you've lost something that belonged to you. Let me ask you a question. Have you ever invited me to your home? To have dinner with you and your wife?

"Why, no!"

The old man nods. "What about cars? Have you ever bought a car from me?"

"No, I haven't!"

"Jeffrey owns communications companies. Every reporter, every anchorman, every technician, every manager in his companies drove one of my cars for many years. His entire fleet would be shipped out of Milwaukee. No haggling. No questions.

Then you come in here, with your hat in your hand, begging for justice. From me. The man that has never received the hospitality of your home. You don't even call me Budfather."

"Budfather?"

"Yes, Budfather. You're not going to tell me you're surprised, are you, Mister Lerner?"

"I...I knew you were powerful, but -"

"Ever hear of a company called Emprise?"

"No."

"Thanks to me, you haven't. In 1972, a Congressional investigation learned that my Milwaukee outfit, as well as a couple of other territories, had gotten loans from these fellows at Emprise. They were a concessions company. Later on, they were convicted by a Federal Grand Jury in Los Angeles of of conspiracy for hiding loans to mobsters. One of them was a personal friend of mine who owned a Michigan racetrack at which Emprise did the concession business.

"Emprise used the money to buy an interest in the Frontier Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. I'd always wanted to get into Vegas.

"I couldn't help the company with the L.A. investigation. We weren't big enough on the West Coast in those days. We had this crazy guy out there running things in Oakland, and he was always gumming up the works.

"But I handled Congress all right. Kept our name totally out of things.

"There was an unfortunate incident in 1976." The old man smiled, the muted overhead lighting reflecting softly off of the lenses of his glasses.

"Wh-what was that?"

"There was this reporter snooping around Emprise again, working for the Arizona Republic, name of Don Bolles. He got his with a car bomb."

"W-why are you telling me this?"

"I just want you to know that if you think that these D.C. political hacks you think are your friends, the ones who are going to put on the pressure to keep Jeff out of the territory, are big enough, smart enough, and connected enough to take me on, you're mistaken. Those steroids hearings? Just a smokescreen. We pick our battles, Mister Lerner. And we always win the war."

"Is it...too late for me? Can I call you...Budfather?"

The old man extends his left hand. "Never too late to try. What will it take for me to put you in a new Cadillac today?"

NEXT TIME: THE OLD DARK WAREHOUSE