Fast Ball!...an American Legend

[ariosto]

Brandon Bolt, 'Lightning Bolt' or 'The Bolt' to his loyal and fanatic fans made 19 million dollars last year from his salary and from endorsements. His salary was paid by Mister J.R. Wrigley, longtime owner of the Chicago Cubs and this sum was not considered exorbitant for a man who had won 20 or more games for northside boys these past 15 years or so and had kept the Cubs in pennant contention for most of that time.
His endorsements were from soft drink manufacturers, sports clothes manufacturers, Ford Motor Company and Viagra to name a few.

This year he would make even more.
It was his last year in professional baseball. He'd announced his retirement at training camp a few weeks back. At 40 years of age the 'Bolt' had little left to accomplish. The mountains had all been climbed and he'd lost 2mph from his fastball. It was time to settle back and enjoy the fruits of his talents for it had never been a labor to him. Nothing but a pure joy of playing ever since his grandmother, a rabid Yankee fan, had taken him out behind the tenement building in Waterbury Connecticut when he was five and put a bat in his hand...

"Is that true?"
The pretty Eurasian woman asked, hitting the pause control on her recorder.

Brandon smiled his big white smile and winked.
"You bet it is", he said. "She was a grand old lady."

Miss Sakai, Kim Sakai crossed her long legs...she was wearing slacks but he knew good legs when he saw them.
"So your grandmother taught you to play ball', she said.

She was here to write his story, to ghost write it that is. Lytton House Publishing had sent her with a quarter million dollar advance for his 'auto'biography. It was his idea to have her actually travel with the Cubs for a month or two as the book was developed. His idea after he'd taken a good look at her that is.

"Yes she did. She did indeed."
That smile again. It always worked.


Another Season is underway!

Can the Cubbies do it this year? They better try hard if indeed Brandon Bolt holds true to his promise to retire. The lynchpin of
Dusty Baker's starting rotation showed all his old pizzaz in spring training and will probably deliver one more twenty win season to the boys in blue.
Next year?...who knows.
We asked his wife Veronica who accompanied BB to the airport last night if there was a chance hubby would don a big league uniform of any kind next year and she just smiled and patted their two sons on the head.
"Next year is ours." she said.
"It's out turn to have him now."
So Dusty, put him to work down there in Tampa. Pinella's boys maybe a less than formidable challange but we better strike while the Bolt is HOT!

Ryan O'Neil Chicago Sun Times



Closed thread for Chanaud and Ariosto

 

[chanaud]

Kim Sakai had made it! At least, in her career. This is what she’s always dreamed of doing, writing somebody’s famous story. She’s never wanted credit, she’s always wanted to hide in the recess of another name. And Lytton Publishing Co. knew it, that’s why they gave her this assignment. They knew she was safe. She would write this story and give Brandon Bolt all the credit. They just hoped she wouldn’t fuck it up.

What Kim Sakai didn’t like…was baseball. Being a football fan herself, she’s always regarded baseball as too dull and definitely not America’s national sport. She loved action. Real men played football. Not like these pansies in tight uniforms that play a childish game called baseball.

Brandon Bolt was the dullest of them all. His so called winning smile made her shudder. His smile was too wide, too fake and his teeth were too white. He was overweight, or so Kim thought. His uniform didn’t do him justice for his massive built. Despite all that, she sat there smiling and batting her eyelashes as if she was another adoring fan. She knew Brandon Bolt was adored by many, young and old, women and men. She just had to find out why, so she can write in that beloved voice of his.

“Your grandmother sounds like an interesting person. Can I interview her?”
She asked. She bet there was no grandmother.

“Yeah, sure. She’ll be around this Sunday. Hey!” Brandon’s eyes flew open. Uh oh…a bright idea! “Why don’t I pick you up and we’ll ride over together to see her.”

“Uhmm…sure. Sunday you say? Yes, I’m free.” Now that was a shocker! There really is a grandmother! Maybe this story won’t be so dull after all. “Will your wife and children come along too?” Kim asked sweetly.

“Naw. They’re down in Tampa, where they live. It’ll just be you and me, babe.” His eyes leered at the cleavage hiding behind her conservative pink sweater. “And oh yeah, my grandmama.”

“Excellent. Well, why don’t you take me give me a tour of the grounds. I really would like to get a feel of where you work…I mean play.”

Kim stood and so did Brandon. He slapped her ass, awarding a squeal from her delicate mouth.

“Can’t babe. Coach is here.”

Kim turned and fell instantly in love...

 

[ariosto]

'Oh God,' He thought looking at himself in the mirror of the airport VIP lounge, 'another one.'
She was atractive in a kind of lean way, a few more curves would do her some good...but she was eurasion and that was cool. He liked that combination a lot.
Hell yeah, he'd give her a tumble, maybe tomorrow night even after the game.... take her out, eat Italian then go to his room at the Plaza and they'd fuck all night.
He smiled at the tanned reflection, 'still have the magic don't ya boy?'

"Who's the beaver with Bolthead?"
Lance Erikson veteran third baseman leaned over and whispered in Dusty's ear as the celebrity pitcher stepped aboard the plane ushering in a tall, leggy young woman.
"I dunnoe..hush hush stuff I think. Front Office says keep him happy one more season..."
The Cub's manager spit a sunflower seed into the ashtray.
"I can tell you though, she ain't just another 'groupie'.

"I'm not just another groupie Mister Bolt. I hope you know that and we can get right down to business."
She slipped quickly into the overstuffed chair beside him, two stewerdess were breathing down her neck.
"It's Brandon, Kit. Only those idiots out there call me Bolt..Brand's fine, just call me Brand...
Bring us each a gin and tonic doll..that okay Kit?"

As the attentive 'stews' fell all over themselves producing the drinks, she looked at him and grinned, "It's Kim, not Kit and a drink would be fine right now. To be honest I'm a bit nervous."
She crossed her legs, his pulse quickened.
"I've never tried something like this before."

"You have great knees honey, " his finger was slowly and delicately tracing an oval on her right patella.
"Just ask me anything, anything at all. Brandon Bolt is at your service."

 

[chanaud]

“Anything?” She asked.

Brandon nodded and added a lecherous wink. “Sure, anything for you, doll.” His large hand rested on her delicate knee. She shifted suddenly, knocking his hand off. Gawd, is he like this with all women?

“Is Philip married?” The eagerness in her eyes exploded with her question.

“Huh?”

“Philip. You know, your pitching coach. Philip…” With round brown eyes, she leaned forward waiting anxiously for his question. Brandon didn’t miss a beat. His eyes rolled down and got a quick peak at the constrained goods.

“Oh…him. Yeah…he’s married. To a looker, too!” Kim’s face fell with the corners of her mouth. She shrugged and crossed her legs, away from Brandon.

When their seats were announced, they both stood. Brandon picked up her bags as well as her own and followed Kim on board. They sat in first class, of course. A blonde flight attendant greeted them warmly, and directed them to their seats. Her Barbie blue eyes were fixated on Brandon, though she spoke to both of them.

“May I offer a drink?” She asked, her voice suggested more than a drink while her hips leaned against Brandon’s arm. Kim was soon ignored. She shrugged her shoulders and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

 

[ariosto]

The 'stews' were no challange. In fact he was pretty sure he'd spent a night or two with the blonde one in a steamy Houston hotel room a few years back. Maybe that's why she'd looked so eager and expectant when she'd brought the drinks.
Oh well...fuck. Ya can't remember them all.

Now this little fortune cookie next to him was another story. Sleeping? Shouldn't she be asking him questions? And what the hell is this shit about the pitching coach! So what if he looks like Clint Eastwood, he's old enough to be her father and then some for chrissake!
His fine brow wrinkled at the thought of the craggy faced Shep Carson. The bastard never understood just how good 'the Bolt' really was.
Hell with him, let's see who makes Cooperstown first.
That thought brought a smile to his face.
He gently laid his hand on Kim's knee again.

'That SOB doesn't remember me!'
Bambi Foster would have cried if she wasn't so damned mad.
As it was she almost spilled the Michelob onto Carson's lap.
"Careful Ma'am."
The pitching coach's southern drawl was obvious.
"You okay?"

'Goddamit Bambi, you must be broadcasting to everyone aboard. Get a hold of yourself.'
The buxom blonde stewardess smiled brightly,
"Why I'm just fine Mister Carson, just a bit nervous at serving all you terrific athletes."
She bent low over him and poured the beer slowly.
"Where are ya'll gonna be staying in Tampa?"
'Good girl, there's more than one fish in the sea and more than one ballplayer on the team.'

 

[chanaud]

Feigning sleep, Kim could imagine the waitress with her double DD’s spilling out of her tight navy blazer while she leaned over to offer Brandon his drink. It took all she had to control the grin from forming on her face or to prevent the roll in her eyes. She didn’t know hot to react. It was pitiful scene. Even with her eyes closed. But Kim knew it was something she had to get used to, especially if she’s going to tour with Brandon.

Just write the book and walk away, she noted to herself. He’s married and he’s a player, and he has not respect for women.

“You asleep, dollface?” Kim’s eyebrows curled, as she wondered who he was talking to. She felt the intensity of his eyes on her. Opening her eyes, she stretched.

“I was just taking a catnap.” She answered.

“Catnap, eh? Don’t we have work to do?” He asked, while handing her a beer. Kim thanked him and sipped it. An import. He does travel in style.

“Yes, yes, we can start. I just thought you were busy.” Kim straightened her back, adjusted the front of her blouse, and pulled out her constant notebook.

“I’m never too busy for you, dollface.” Brandon reassured her with a squeeze on her bare knee.

 

[ariosto]

"You want to know about my Grandmother!?"
Brandon asked as the plane rocketed south six miles above Atlanta.

"Yes..Isn't that who you said taught you the game?"
She clicked on her recorder.
"Seems a good place to start."

The ace hurler pondered a moment, gestured for another beer and started...
"She's a Yankee fan. Far as I know never saw them play in the flesh till I bought her a ticket to the series a few years ago but she followed 'em on the radio and TV. Goin' all the way back to DiMaggio and Berra. She's a tiny little thing barely five feet tall and worked hard for a livin'. My Grandpa was no good, a real boozer left her with two daughters to raise..."

Kim interupted, "Your Mother?"
"Yeah, one was her..anyway one day he just went out for a smoke an' never came back..."

His voice trailed away, was that a tear in his eye!

"So your real close to her, your grandmother I mean."

"Hell yes I was...hey how 'bout that beer beautiful, I'm dyin' of thirst here."
"Yes Mister Bolt, right away." Bambi thought briefly of tossing it in his face but she had a career to consider and besides she could feel the Carson's blue eyes following her. Don't make a scene girl...don't'

By the time the plane began it's descent to Tampa/Saint Pete, Kim had almost two hours on tape of which she estimated about 5 minutes were usable. Bolt seemed incapable of straying very far from the center of attraction...himself. Though she had discovered a soft place in his armor of arrogance and strongly suspected that Brandon Bolt had had a very miserable childhood.
But was that what his fans really wanted to hear?