A forlorn figure is slumped over the edge of his flimsy cot, his head bowed toward the floor. Around him were the small luxuries afforded the long-term incarcerated - books scattered over a makeshift orange-crate desk, a crude birdcage fashioned out of popsicle sticks, assorted pencil-and-charcoal sketches, and on the far wall, a large poster of Bill James.

The cell door sprang open with a metallic clang. "Jeckyl. Hey you, Sabermetrics Boy. Visitor."

Within minutes, the orange-jumpsuited scientist shuffled into the visitor's center, hands and feet bound by manacles. His face was covered in a catcher's mask. The hulkish figure awaiting him stood and smiled. "Jeckyl. It's good to see you, old friend. What's with the catcher's mask?"

The aged figure slid into the bench opposite the larger man. "Oh, it's nothing. Their idea of a joke. Just because I threw myself at Peter Schmuck last month and took out a chunk of his cheek and swallowed it whole, they seem to think I'm dangerous."

"Well, you never did like him, Jeckyl."

"How could I? The man thinks that the Orioles removing 'Baltimore' from every scrap of their identity is a reasonable marketing idea. Besides, he was just too plump and delicious. When I get out of here, I'd love to have him for dinner some night with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Would you like to join me, Hydegrove?"

"Um, what's happened to you, Jeckyl? You're in here for lying to Congress about your designer drug clients, and you've turned into some lifer, raising birds and trying to escape through sewage pipes. You were only sentenced for six months until you started acting like Jimmy Cagney. Now it's three years!"

"My plan would have worked, too, if I hadn't taken that wrong turn in the pipe and ended up in the Anacostia. How was I to know I was going to come out right next to the Nats' new ballpark? In the movies those pipes always end in the middle of nowhere with maybe a hound dog or two barking in the far distance. I didn't even have time for the money shot with my face extended skyward and the musical crescendo before those security guards paused from their late-night donut scarf to nab me."

"Don't you think you're taking this all a bit too seriously? I hear you went insane in the mess hall the other day and slugged a guard, and they had to carry you out of there because you were raving like a madman."

"I'd just gotten word that Davidson had busted my bracket wide open. I was counting on those cigarettes to bribe the screws so I could get a copy of the new Baseball Prospectus."

The large man sighed and shook his head. "Jeckyl, you've got to stop living this prison term like you were in a movie. Just behave yourself, and it'll all be over soon."

"Oh? And what's left for me, Hydegrove? The feds took my lab. Baseball has clamped down on the players. Jose has a new book coming out; he plans to tell everyone I slept with Miguel Tejada. Exactly what will I do on the outside? I'll be bagging groceries in some supermarket, asking the bossman when I can take a leak."

"Don't be foolish, man." Hydegrove leaned forward and cupped his hand to his mouth. "There's always the NFL."

The slight man's weathered features brightened. "You think?"

"Jeckyl, they will welcome you with open arms. Oh...have you heard about Jay Gibbons?"

"Never heard of him. He's never even been to my lab, not once."

"You can cut the crap with me, Henry. I'm not the feds. Anyway, the Orioles cut him loose."

"Wow. So there's hope after all."

"Yes, Henry, there's hope. That's why I came here, to tell you. Andy MacPhail is for real, and so is the new Peter Angelos. I know I come here and taunt you every year, making fun of your Jim Hunter-ish outlook on all things Oriole, but not this year. I want you to have hope. You've suffered a long time, Henry, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It's distant, to be sure, but it is there. And hopefully you won't have to crawl the distance of three football fields through knee-deep shit to get there."

"But the Orioles are going to be really horrible this year. The starting pitching is a mess and the lineup is anemic, though I do think they might score as many runs as a year ago if they aren't giving at-bats to Gibbons and Payton, even after giving up Tejada. Whom I never slept with, by the way."

"Never thought you did, old friend. I don't think you have to worry about Jose's book, though. From what I'm hearing, with the exception of a certain blue-lipped Yankee, there isn't a lot of interesting material in there. It appears to mostly consist of Jose going 'Nyah-Nyah-Nyah-Nyah-NYAH-Nyah, I was right about steroids."

The old man shook his head. "I'm sorry what happened to him. Those were some heady days when Jose and Mark were first using. No one knew then that the brain cells would shrink as much as the testicles."

"Well, that's all over now. I hope you take the Orioles news to heart, and stop this foolish behavior. By the time you get out of here, the Orioles may not be good, but they will be legit. And that's a far cry from what they have been."

"Thanks for the news, Hydegrove. I appreciate it. Now, if you'll excuse me, Escape from Alcatraz is on the rec hall schedule for this afternoon and I want to get a good seat. By the way, next time you come, can you bring me a mannequin?"