Trevor kept glancing at the outfield. Sly smile or not, you could see he was nervous.

“What did you do?” I said.

“I should place blame on your tea,” the giant said.

Trevor again watched centerfield.

“What are you looking for?” I said.

Proctor and I both watched the outfield. If this giant was worried, I thought I probably should be worried too.

“Hammy,” Trevor said. “After what happened… he followed me.”

I threw up my hands, and I glared at the giant with wide eyes. He wasn’t taking the hint.

“And?” I said. “What happened?”

“I may have given him some of your magic,” Trevor said. “He has a mind.”

My upper lip curled. I squinted at the big man. “I don’t follow.”

“He is smart… now,” Trevor said, hesitant. “I cannot think of a better way to say it.”

[ATTENTION!

This is the System speaking.]

No sooner had this text interrupted things, then the cute orange kitty arrived in the outfield. It jumped from behind tall, brown grass beyond where we’d planned to build the outfield fence. The cat trotted onto the turf, walking to centerfield where he sat, and curled his tail.

Before the three of us near the infield could walk out to greet Hammy, the System continued with its message.

[Be aware of your newest hire.

Please welcome, your new Bullpen Coach: Hammy.]

Uh…

Hammy watched us walk out toward him. He stood, and his tail swished slowly. Trevor smiled at his cat, and the cat squinted at him, a look of affection.

Proctor narrowed his eyes at me as we walked. “Care to read that sentence again, please?” Proctor said.

I repeated what the System had said.

“A cat,” Proctor said. “Bullpen Coach.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t get it either.”

“I told you,” Trevor said, “he’s smart now.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

We walked up to the kitty, and he accepted a head scratch from his giant owner. Then, I pretty much had a heart attack.

“Meow meow,” the cat said.

I understood every word. Proctor’s slackened jaw told me he could too.

“See?” Trevor said. “Smart.”

“Meow meow,” Hammy said, and he was looking right at me.

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Meow meow meow.”

“Right,” I said. “That’s what the System’s telling me.”

“He’s talking,” Proctor said. “This is a cat.”

“I told you… he’s smart!” Trevor said. “It’s the tea!”

“Bullpen Coach?” Proctor said.

“We don’t have a choice,” I said.

“Meow meow,” added the cat.

“No, you’re fine,” I said. “We… we’re just surprised. I mean, I’m talking to a cat right now. No offense.”

“Meow meow meow,” Hammy said.

“Well, you’d be in charge of the bullpen during games,” I said. “You’ll work with the relief pitchers.”

“Meow.”

“Yes, that would include me,” I said. “It’s a very strange situation.”

“How is he doing this?” Proctor said.

I’d never seen him so shaken.

“Look around you,” I said. “Everything that’s happened. Are you really that shocked?”

Then to add to our mini state of chaos, Barkley the smarmy merchant arrived at the ball park. This time he was on foot, and he didn’t have his bodyguard with him, which I found odd.

“Warm weather,” Barkley said. I noticed a bead of sweat on his receding hair line.

Trevor and his talking cat left us, and walked toward Trevor’s underground bunker. Proctor stuck around, likely curious what Barkley had to say.

“An occurrence brings me your way,” Barkley said. He brought a gloved hand from a fold in his fur coat, and showed a few gold coins. “These arrived from the ether. Then a message came to me. Whispered from on high. It seems I’m to be your manager.”

We strolled the outfield grass, the three of us, our hands clasped behind our backs.

“Right,” I said. “You’ve been hired. This is the System’s doing.”

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“I’m a business man,” Barkley said. “Now I’m being told I must divest. I’m to be your full time manager.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have no say over this.”

“This is quite a thing,” Barkley said. “And, I’m not completely down on it.”

“You’re not?”

Barkley subtly shook his head.

“‘Tis more gold promised to me every week, than I’ve ever made from whichever endeavors,” he said. “Nor was I afforded much choice in this matter, mind you.”

“Same here.”

“But, it brings to mind an important question,” Barkley said.

“You want to know what a manager does,” Proctor said.

“Precisely.”

I blew out an exasperated breath. Think, I told myself. What did you see on TV?

“They sit over there,” I said, pointing at the home dugout adjacent to the infield. “They’re in charge of managing the players during a game. So, you choose who’s playing what position at any given time. I mean, the players have their positions already figured out, but when there’s more than one player available for a given spot, you have to decide who plays there, and who sits on the bench. Then during games you make changes based on what you observe.”

“I see,” Barkley said.

Did he really see? I didn’t know. I was kind of grasping at straws too.

“He manages the pitching staff as well,” Proctor said.

“Oh, right,” I said. “That’s right, you have to decide who’s going to pitch starting each game, and who will pitch during the game as well. You have to watch the pitcher, and if it looks like they’re getting tired, you have to bring another pitcher in… someone fresh who won’t give up runs to the other team. Understand?”

“What I fail to understand is why I was chosen for such a task,” Barkley said. “I know nothing of this baseball.”

“I think we’re all feeling that,” I said. “Why us? Why me?”

“All we can do is do our best,” Proctor said.

“There is much I’m going to have to learn,” Barkley said.

“We’re all learning as we go here,” I said. “I’ll try to help you as best I can. Fair?”

“As long as the gold is flowing, more than fair,” Barkley said.

His greasy smile returned to his face.

“Good,” I said, and we shook forearms.

“I’m told my residence will be moved out here,” Barkley said. “I suppose I shall see you soon.”

After Barkley walked back toward the village, Proctor and I agreed having that man in the dugout every game managing the team might prove to be a hassle.

[ATTENTION HUMAN:

Almost all franchise employment exists on a grid.

These positions begin at Level 1 with the potential to reach a higher level, with the aim of gaining promotion to a higher position, and a higher salary grade.

Your franchise employees occupying the following positions will have the ability to level up:

Field Attendant (potential to promote to Equipment Manager)

Field Laborer (potential to promote to Groundskeeper)

Food Vendor (potential to promote to Concessions Manager)

Ticket Taker (promotes to Concessions Manager)

Security Officer (promotes to Security Manager)

Physical Trainer (promotes to Team Doctor)

Bullpen Coach (promotes to Pitching Coach)

First Base Coach (promotes to Hitting Coach)

Third Base Coach (promotes to Hitting Coach)

Pitching Coach (promotes to Manager)

Hitting Coach (promotes to Manager)

Manager (promotes to Assistant General Manager)

Assistant General Manager (promotes to General Manager)

General Manager (promotes to President)

These improvements in levels will be achieved through performance benchmarks outlined, and announced by us at a time of our choosing.

Yours truly,

The System]

Mora arrived soon after receiving the System’s latest message. She was more confused than Barkley had been.

“Have you seen my son’s cat?” Mora said.

“We have,” I said. “Do you know-”

She cut me off, waving her arms enthusiastically. “He speaks!” She shrieked. “Hammy. What witchcraft is this? A cat?”

She clicked her tongue, her hands planted on her hips. “And what is this, Hitting Coach?” Mora said. “I don’t know Hitting Coach! What is a Hitting Coach? I’m a seamstress.”

“I get it, I understand,” I said. “We’re all trying our best here. We have games coming up. A tournament, in fact. The System’s forcing the team together in a hurry.”

“The team? Baseball?” Mora said. “I do not know these things. Will I wear the costume as well?”

I nodded with my teeth grit together.

“I’m sorry, Mora,” I said. “But, yes, I believe the Hitting Coach wears a uniform, just like the players. You’ll be in the dugout with them. Over there.”

“And what will be my task?” Mora asked.

Hag arrived soon after Mora. Her wrinkled face looked just as bitter. Though she was quick to point out the gold in her pocket.

“Pitching Coach?” Hag said. “What’s a pitch?”

I had both ladies standing defiantly before me, demanding answers.

“Why must we listen to this System?” Mora said. “You tell me that.”

“I understand you’re both frustrated,” I said. “We’re frustrated too. Aren’t we, Proctor?”

Proctor adopted a pained smile.

“I suppose we’re improvising,” he said.

“Thing is, ladies, if we don’t go along with what they tell us, then we could wind up in serious danger,” I said.

“Ha!” Mora bellowed. “I will show them danger. You tell me what is a Hitting Coach.”

“What is a pitch? How must I coach this?” Hag said.

“Alright,” I said. “Here’s how I understand it. The Hitting Coach helps batters improve their approach at the plate. The Pitching Coach assists pitchers in how they go about pitching to batters. They help them get better. You’re going to watch things as they progress within ball games, and you’ll help the Manager make decisions about player personnel. You’ll decide if certain players should stay in a game, or if you should replace them with someone else. And, you’ll mentor players, teach them.”

“No,” Hag said.

“Do you understand a word he says?” Mora turned to ask Hag this.

“Eh,” Hag muttered. “I understand your cat more than I understand him.”

“Your jobs will be positive ones,” I said. “You’re going to have a big impact on the team. This is great news! You’ll interact with the guys every day, and you’ll practice with them, show them a few things they might be doing wrong.”

“They don’t know baseball though,” Proctor pointed out.

“I know, but, this is what the System wants,” I said. “Ladies, you’re going to have a chance to earn a lot of gold. You’re going to be able to make a positive impact on your community. You’ll have enough money to improve your housing, your wardrobe, the food you eat. You’ll be able to give to charity. And, you’ll be traveling with the team, going to exotic places. This is something to get excited about.”

My words sat with them both for a few moments, and then Mora laughed right in my face. She clearly wasn’t buying what I was selling.

“Bah,” Hag said, apparently in agreement with her friend, and she spat on the ground. “Your System.”

Both women marched away. It looked like they were off to find Trevor and Hammy.

“That went well,” I said to Proctor.

“Growing pains,” he replied.

Then the watch tower’s big bell swung in alarm. Ding ding! Ding ding! Ding ding!

“What now?”

“Riders!” Came a shout down from the tower. “Riders at the gate!”

Minutes later, when we’d jogged over to greet Munk Weir near the tower’s base, he met us - out of breath, and holding a parchment.

“‘Tis a wagon, or so the flags tell us,” Munk said. “A wagon on the bridge. It flies Blue Lake colors!”

My mouth formed a perfect circle, and my eyes popped wide. I couldn’t hide my excitement.

“It’s time!” I said. “I love it! We’re getting rid of this creep.” Then I yelled at the sky. “Someone tell Jorn Quallon his ride is here!”

What I didn’t realize is Jorn wasn’t far off, near the entrance to the equipment bunker. He’d heard every word I’d said. He dropped the ball glove from his hands, and marched straight toward me.

He squinted at me like a gunfighter.

“What did you just say?”