ISSUE 28.5

“You wanted to see me, coach?”

“Yes, thanks Brian, come in, take a seat. I just wanted to chat with you about a few things before you start warm-ups. Excited about your first start of the season?”

“Sure, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, could you, uh, close that door please?”

“Oh. Uh, sure.” The young pitching phenom Brian Woo closed the door to Smear Man’s office in the Mariners locker room complex area thing at Safeco Field and sat across the desk from his coach, who was leaning forward in his chair looking him over suspiciously.

“Is it really closed?”

Brian glanced at the door. “Uh, yeah of course.”

“I mean… really?” ‘Dan Wilson’ leaned back and looked meaningfully at the pitcher, who was a little confused.

“Yeah, coach, it’s…it’s closed. What do you mean, I just—“

‘Dan’ leaned forward conspiratorially. “Look, Brian, I just want to make sure no one hears anything we’re talking about.” He leaned back and raised most of his eyebrows. “Got it??”

Woo did not get it. Now quite confused, he said, “Uh yeah. I— got it. Door’s closed. Look, I gotta get started on—“

‘Dan’ got right to the point as he leaned forward. “So who are you really?”

“I— uh, what?”

The coach leaned back and looked out the non-existent window, feigning an air of impatience. “Let’s cut the crap. I know who you really are.”

“Who I really—? I guess I don’t know what you’re talking about, sorry coach.”

Jerry pointed a finger firmly on the table and leaned forward. “Look. I’m clued into what’s going on here! A little bird told me that every player in baseball whose first or last name starts with W is not who he says he is.” He leaned back and remembered he was supposed to be quiet, adding in a chilling whisper, “And that would include you, Mister quote unquote Woo. So tell me. Who are you really?”

The pitcher was seriously confused now. “I’m sorry, I don’t—“

Smear leaned forward again. “Don’t play dumb with me! W-Man told me all about it years ago! I didn’t believe him of course, and forgot all about it. But recently, a few strange things have been happening around here.” He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the pitcher with squinty eyes. “I’ve been noticing a lot of strange things. For example, did you notice during spring training, way in the back of the stands, almost every game, a huge floating red orb with a face, maybe 15 feet wide, hovering over the stands? Most people didn’t pay any attention to it. But ever wonder what that might have been about?” He leaned back in his chair awaiting Brian’s answer.

“Well, I just assumed it was a fan. I didn’t want to be judgmental and just wanted to concentrate on working up those off-speed pitches. I really think the splitter is coming along. I might try it out a few times today.”

“You just thought it was a fan!??”, Smear leaned forward in his chair and pointed a finger directly at Woo’s face, specifically a few inches to the right of the bridge of his nose. That would be his right, not Woo’s. But what matters is that it was pointed at Woo at all. “What kind of fan is that? He wasn’t even wearing Mariner colors! He was completely red!!”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t want to blow money on overpriced official MLB gear. Or maybe he--”

“Maybe this, maybe that! And maybe he’s an all-powerful being cloned from someone in the future! Did you ever think of that? Huh? Or do you just conveniently choose to rule out the most obvious explanation?” Smear leaned back in his chair.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, ok? I don’t really know what you’re even talking about. I have a start today. I’ve got stuff to do. I’m going to just leave now.”

“Don’t you move a muscle, mister.” The coach suddenly leaned forward and again pointed at Woo’s head. “No more cat-and-mouse games here. I know you are from the future and your real name was changed by none other than W-Man!”

“Who’s W-Man?”

Smear leaned back in his chair. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me. I know his game. Everyone from the future who comes back to our time and gets involved with major league baseball runs into Mr. Man before long. He gives them a new identity, and as his calling card, makes sure one of their names starts with W. Don’t pretend any longer. You are really going to sit there and tell me you don’t know him? Let me refresh your memory. All white, about 4 feet tall, head shaped like a W? Ring any bells?”

“Uh… Are you ok, coach?”

‘Dan’ leaned back in his chair. “OK, ok, I get it. You don’t want to talk. Let me just put this out there. I know you came here from the future, and I know W-Man gave you your identity. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, with a name like ‘Woo Deep’. Come on, you think I’m stupid?”

Brian’s eyes flashed a little at that. “They called me that as a kid because I could pitch deep into games.”

Jerry leaned forward, “Yeah, I bet that’s the story Dub told you to say. I know, he gave me a whole story too. University of Minnesota, drafted by the Mets, the whole bit. Now I don’t know what game he’s playing at with all this, but I know he has some sort of plan. Seems like he’s been working on it for decades. But something tells me he’s just about ready… for something. And I think you’re a big part of it, Mr. Woo.” He leaned back in his chair. “Do you really think it’s a coincidence that both the general manager and our number five starting pitcher both have last names that start with W? What are the odds?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s a coincidence. And not even that much of one. You’re insane. I’m gonna go warm up now.”

Smear leaned forward in his chair. “Sure, go ahead, go warm up. Have a great game.”

Before opening the door to leave, Woo spun back around to his manager. “Coach, are you ok? I mean, opening day you were fine, but since then you’ve been very distracted around here, and the team’s performance shows it. We’ve sucked, and you have barely been present enough to even notice. Everyone’s talking about it. I don’t know who this W person is, and the giant floating orb in Peoria was probably just a fan. There’s no secret time travel or whatever going on. I’m just Brian Woo, a pitcher from Alameda, California. I’m not from the future, for frick sake! Man, you need help. It’s a long season. Get your head in the game.”

The coach leaned back in his chair. “Sure, sure, Mr. Woo Deep. Go with that story. I know W-Man got you where you are today. I just want to know what he’s up to, that’s all.” Jerry leaned forward. “And I know you can tell me. Now get. And have a good game out there.”

Woo opened the door to leave.

“But before you go,” Smear said, leaning forward in his chair for emphasis, “Just know I’ll be watching you today. Because you know what? I think I’ve rattled you. I think you’re scared! You’re scared that Dub’s whole scheme might come crashing down. And I think it might just affect your game today. But I want you to know I’m going to be watching you very closely this afternoon. And when I come out to the mound, I promise you I’m going to ask you about it, point blank. So you’ll get a few innings to decide whether you want to come clean. You know you can’t hide the truth forever.”

“Yeahhh, ok, you do that. I can tell you I’m going to pitch a gem today. You just watch.”

“We’ll see… we’ll see. Tell you what. I’ll make a little deal with you: If you manage to retire, say, the first six batters you face, that’ll show me you aren’t rattled, and I might just believe you. But give up even one hit, or one walk in those first six batters, and I’ll know. Brian, I’m telling you I’ll know you’re lying to me, and that you know a lot more than you’re letting on. You’re from the future. I just don’t know what you have to do with whatever W-Man’s plans are.” He leaned back in thought and added, “But there’s another consideration. Perhaps you want to tell me the truth, but for whatever reason you can’t. Maybe W-Man has something over you. So, if that’s the case, I’ll give you a chance to come clean, and no one needs to know. OK? All right then… what signal could you give me that no one else will notice…., OK, how about this. If your very first pitch of the game today is a fastball, I’ll take that to mean I am onto something, that you are from the future, but you just can’t say anything out loud. I know that W-Man can do some fancy things with his ears. Who knows if that’s part of it.” His voice dropped to a very quiet whipser. “He may be listening to everything… Soooo…. if your second pitch of the game is also a fastball, that means you’re willing to talk to me about it in private. If that happens, I promise I’ll keep it confidential and will set up a secret meeting. See, I think you’re terrified of the awesome power that W-Man seems to have over major league baseball. Look, I get it.”

Woo said nothing more and left the office. As he turned to close the door, Smear Man noticed a little sweat was running down the pitcher’s face. Am I right? Is he scared? He leaned back in his chair and glanced again out the non-existent window. This should be interesting, he thought. I think I’ve scared him now. Interesting game today. Most interesting...