NEW YORK, NY – Six months ago, deep in the jungles of the Caribbean island of Saint Lucia, farmer Rex O’Rourke was tending to his banana plants when he heard a voice whisper, “If you build it, he will come.” Rex looked around, puzzled. He’d dropped out of civilization when he dropped onto the island three years ago, and owns neither a computer nor a TV (the lack of the latter in particular facilitated the amicable but sad break-up with his friend and lover Sofia Vergara). He scratched his long beard, and went back to his pruning. “If you build it, he will come.” Well, never one to turn down cosmic messages, Rex put down his banana trees and started putting up a baseball field. The neighbors all thought he was another crazy gringo, but what did they know…besides the local economy and the volcanic terrain and about a dozen other things that meant this was a bad idea. Of course, Rex didn’t know anything about bananas, either, so maybe it wasn’t a total loss.
Present… the sun bakes down on Korak, Rhubarb, and David Wright, all floating in a raft on the ocean. “I told you we should’ve avoided the Bermuda Triangle!” Wright says, for the four hundredth time. “And please, Rhubarb, we’re in an inflatable boat, try not to use your claws.” Rhubarb ignored him, staring off into the horizon, at a green peak peeking up over it. Korak followed his gaze and quickly snatched up two of Wright’s over-sized protective batting helmets, went up to the front, and with his long ape arms start paddling a breast stroke that quickly propelled them through the water like a knife. David Wright clung to the bottom and watched nervously as Rhubarb gripped to the boat’s bladder with his nails, and he wondered, for the four hundredth time, why he’d told Fred Wilpon he’d come along on this trip. He thought they were going down for an extended spring training at Port St. Lucie, at least that’s what Wilpon had told him as he handcuffed a briefcase to wrist and sent him off. However, the Mets’ plane, dubbed “the Title Hopes” by the crew (who also painted a sexy Mrs. Met on the nose), crashed and burned into the ocean. At least he’s still got the briefcase, though at one point a shark tried to bite it off and Korak barely missed a stroke as he reached back and bonked it on the nose with one of the Gazoo helmets.
Soon Korak was pulling the raft up out of the surf, breathing heavy, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. The sound echoed across the lushly green island, soon replaced with a cacophony of nature as they looked around for any sign of civilization. Wright picked up a conch from the sand and announced they should head to the highest peak to light a signal fire. “We must remain civilized” he says as he steps into the jungle and immediately clutches at his hamstring and falls over. Korak cradles him up and carries him into the canopy of trees, and with Rhubarb on his shoulders they march for miles in the overgrown brush. The vegetation has thick thorns. The mosquitoes are relentless. There’s a downpour of rain…but suddenly they break through into a clearing and the sun breaks the clouds, shining down on a pristine baseball field, flat green grass and a beautiful black volcanic infield. Even the great ape gapes at the sight…but not at the field so much as the man sitting in a lawn chair at home plate.
“What took you so long?” Rex O’Rourke asks.
Big Al Sternberg/Fake Sandy Alderson, tomorrow.
