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Cliff "Red" Jones


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This is my last attempt to start a dynasty that people will like. I will probably update this as much as possible, althogh I should just stick to 2 games a day max. I intend on doing this dynasty in a roll playing mode. So here goes.

Hello. I am Cliff Jones, better known as Red to my friends. I am 35 years old, and I'm divorced with two children: Johnathan Bruce Jones, 17, and Shelby, 7 years old. John was once a great player as a little leaguer, but his baseball talents fell by the way side right around the time his "music" career took off. Currently, his band plays about three shows a year, at run down clubs for low rate pay. Angela and I divorced after our third child, Eugene, died three weeks after birth. He just fell alseep one night and he never awoke. We were heartbroken, and thats when our marriage started breaking apart, four years ago. She always blamed me for it, because I didn't wake up during the night to check on him when the 2 AM alarm went off. Even John blamed me for what happened. So that didn't help my healing process.

Since then, I have quit my job as a Land Developer, and retired from baseball. That is until my good friend Charlie called to see how I was doing. We went to college together, and were good friends. We dormed together, played baseball together, we even dated the same girl once. He called to tell me that he was working for the Cleveland Indians now. I couldn't have been happier for him, and I hated him for it at the same time. The furthest I ever got on the Baseball ladder was coaching a college team, a local college team.

"Red, I got an offer for you." Charlie told me.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"How would like to work for the Indians?"

At this point, I thought he was offering me some pathedic pen pushing desk job."Well, I dont know..."

He paused, then replied"Well, dont you want to know what the job is?"

"Sure, why not."

"Well, you'd be doing what you do best, working with young talent."

"Yeah?" This peaked my interest. "Doing what?"

"Well, you'd be working with the Kinston Indians."

"As what, a Clubhouse Manager? Assistant Coach?"

"No, better."

"Batting Coach?"

"Nope. Red, how would you like to be the manager of the Indians, the Kinston Indians that is?"

"I was so shocked that I nearly dropped the phone. I tried to say something, but I was just so suprised. I just stod there, like a fool, with the phone in my hand.

"Hello? Red are you there?" And still, I paused. I wasn't sure if I wanted to take the job or not.

"Red? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Wow, I dont know what to say."

"Say yes."

"Well, when can I get a look at them, when's their season start?"

"In two weeks, you can get a look at them next Friday, when the report for a few practices before the season starts."

"Ok, I guess I'll see you there. Pick me up from the airport?"

"Um, I'm sorry, I cant do that. tell you what, I'll have one of your coaches pick you up and you'll handle it from there."


"Dont feel pressured to start coaching them right away, take some time to think about it first, alright?"

"Ok Charley, I'll do that."

Before I knew it, I was on a plane and headed for Kinston, North Carolina to meet the squad of the Kinston Indians. I was picked up at the airport by the Batting Coach, Pedro Vazquez, a short man who by looking at him you would have never guessed that he was a ball player in his prime. He played in the Dodgers farm system in the early 1980's. But now, he was just another old, fat has-been trying to stay in the game. Whats even worse is that he cant be anymore then seven years older than myself.

The stadium was in fairly good condition. Usually the A league stadiums are run down and two stepd from condemed. I walked into the locker room, and saw three players sitting at a table playing poker, one was smoking a cigar. Two were fully dressed with the excetion of their hats and jersey unbuttoned, while the third, the one smoking the cigar, was wearing only the pants and his hat. I could tell from the get-go that this guy is going to be trouble. He was a tall, hispanic player with a large tatoo on his left shoulder and chest. What it was, I couldn't make out. To his left, sitting between the three, was a small guy. He nodded to me, smiled a faint smile, and continued. The third, was short, but chunky. He not only turned to acknolege me, but got up and walked over to shake my hand.

"So, this must be the new Skip. How's it goin'?" He then grabbed my hand and clasped it in both of his and shook it violently.

"Fine, and yourself?" He must not have heard me, because he turned around, and went back to the table to continue the game. I turned to Pedro, and asked where the others were.

"There outside stretching."

"Then what the hell are these guys doing here? Get them the hell outta here!"

Pedro went over to the table, and asked them to get out on the field for practice. The two dressed players went to get up when the punk raised his right hand, and they sat back down. In a thick spanish accent, he said "Were not finished yet. We finish, then we play."

This did it for me. I went over to the table and I overthrew it with such force that cards, chips, money, and even the cigar went flying and scattered across the floor. Pedro ran over to pick up the cigar and flushed it down the toilet in the shower room.

"Next time someone gives you an order Paco, you take it, got it!"

"Who do you think you are to-"

At that, I slapped him acroos the face. A punch would have been too much, and I wasn't going to listen to his mouth anymore. "GOT IT!"

"Alright, I got it!"

"Good, now get ready and get out there on the field." I turned towards the other two players, and said "And as for you-" but they were long gone.

When I walked out onto the field, I saw that the players were already running sprints, so I introduced myself to the other coaches. There was Frankie O'Neil, the pitching coach. he was a tall Irish man, with bright red hair, considering that he must have been near fifty. There was Roger Smith, the Bullpen Coach. He was about my height, black, and bald, and about the same age as me too. And there was Henry "Busher" Scott. he was the Bench coach, who even as a player never made it out of A ball, and it seems that he still wont do it even as a coach. He was very pale, almost albino, about 5'8, and with short greyish-blackish hair.

Practice was smooth, with the exception of the punk almost hitting me twice with a thrown ball. After practice, I spoke with him.

"Whats your name?"


"Juan what?"

"Juan Dellaero."

"Ok, Juan, for your nice preformance and tardiness today, I'm fining you $500."

"You can't do that, your not even the manager yet."

"You bet your *** I am." And with that, I pulled out my cell phone, and called Charlie to tell him that he has a new manager for the Kinston Indians.


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Overall, I was suprised in Hall's preformance. I didn't think he would do as good as he did. Maybe this job wont be so bad at all. But during the game, it was terrile. Whenever the team would be on the field, I was stuck with Pedro, Juan, and Jarvis. Jarvis was funny, but after three or four innings, he'd tell the same stories and jokes over and over again. Makes my want to start him for the next game. Juan and I didn't say two words to eachother, in fact, we never even made eye contact. After the game, I stuck around the field to talk to the umpires, then when I entered the clubhouse, I saw that there was a buffet table set up with the main course being buffalo wings. Most of the clubhouse was silent. I expected to hear some form of celebration, but none. Either this team had a real problem with me, or with eachother. This is when I met "Steps" Morgan. He was the Clubhouse Manager, and the man who's appartment I'd be sharing. He was an older man, at least fifteen years my senior. There were pictures of him in his playing days behind the bar. Pictures of him swinging a bat, diving against the wall for a fly ball, and even one of him shaking hands with Ted Williams.

Just as I was about to turn out the lights for the night, the last player out of the clubhouse, Duncan, walked towards me, and said "Good game coach. Dont worry about the other guys, they'll come around. They just dont know you yet."

"I'm not worried, just dont stay out partying all night, we got another early game tomorow."

"Coach, this is A ball, all our games are early. Unless were in the playoffs, which probably wont happen."

"Alright, we,, take care, and see you here tomorrow at nine."

"Aight' coach, see ya then."

It was ten minuets before game time, and Juan Dellaero still hasn't shown up. I was going to start him, but I think I may just sit him out for a week. Then, I hop the fence in LF, and run to the dugout. "Sorry coach, I-"

"I dont want to hear it. I was going to start you today, but I'm thinking I'll sit you for a week, and fine you another $500."

"But I-"

"Save it. Now sit down, and dont say a damned word." Juan threw his equipment on the bench, and sat down. The team rushed out onto the field, and then the National Anthem was played. Then the pitcher winded up and threw the first pitch. It fell in for a....


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The first pitch fell in for a strike. It looked like Benji Cairo would have a good preformance. He winded up for the second pitch, and it was tagged. Furthest ball I seen hit since I came. From there, it got worse. I sat next to Pedro on the bench, and listened to his old baseball stories. Some of them were interesting, others, not so much. Juan walked over to me when I was at the water cooler during the second inning, and he told me why he was late. "Skip, my girl, she was in an accident last night, and thats why I was late. I was at the hospital with her. I'm sory for being late."

"No, no, I'm sorry, for acting like a jackass before before as well. Take as much time off as you may need. How's she doing?"

"She's in CIU."

"ICU. She's in ICU, Intensive Care Unit. I dont think there's a CUI. Ok, well, if you want, I could put you in for an at-bat."

"No, it ok. Can I leave to be with her?"

"Sure, its ok."

"Thanks Skip."

The game went smooth for the most part until the 6th, when Cairo allowed two back to back homers to start the inning. I went out to talk to him, and he seemed to calm down, and retired the next three batters. But the damage was done. We were down 4-0, and the way Wickman was throwing, I wouldn't be suprised to see him on Sports Center in a few years. His fastball was in the ow ninties, and his breaking stuff was much slower.

After the game, I decided to walk around town for a little, to see my new "home." I was just about to walk into Scotties Bar, when I heard a woman laughing. I turned to look, and I did a double take. There was a man tickling her, and then kissing her. I thought to myself, "Get a room." Then I realised that it was Juan. That SOB, he gave me a sob story so he could fool around with some girl. I wanted to walk over and say something, but Insted I took out my cellphone, took a picture, and headed inside for a few beers.

I opened up the medicine cabnet in my offiice, and hollered to Pedro if he had any asprin.

"Sorry Red, I dont think we have any. Rough night?"

"No, I just got my *** kicked by a guy named Jack Daniels last night."

"Oh. Maybe you shouldn't do that, its a bad example for the team."

"Why, they do it anyways. Is Juan here, send him into my office."

It took about five minuets, but he came.

"You asked skip?"

"Yeah, hows your girlfriend? Any changes?"

"Oh, no, nothing yet. She sad thank you for letting me go early."

"Yeah, then whats this?" I opened up my phone, and showed him the picture. You know, I've had it with you. The next time you pull that ****, and your off the team!"

"You cant do that."

"Yes I can, I just wont play you, then you'll quit. Which is what this team needs."

"You know what, **** you!"

"Thats it, you wont pick up a bat for at least a month. See if that makes you happy." He stormed out of my office, yanking the phone off the wall. That SOB.


By the way, is anyone reading this? Because if not, I'll stop writing it. I thought that this would be one that people responded to.

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Medric this is better than 90210!! Awesome work! So then do you actually

put Juan on the inactive list for a month or how do you maneuver that?

Also, what if "Red" gets called up to the majors? Details are sweet!

BTW---I am reading this so keep going!

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Well, in the real world, I doubt that a unknown manager will be called up to the MLB managing roll after a few games. And yes, I'm going to sit out Juan for a weeks worth of games.

So, you guys realy enjoy this, it aint boring you yet? Should I add more baseball, and less outside life (fluff)?

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Yeah, sorry I havent been able to write any more, but since last night around 6PM (NYC), I've been violently ill. Vomiting and the poopers. I finally stopped vomiting around 3:45 AM, but still feel woozy. So, sorry.

The term "sick" would have been sufficient.... :razz:

Get well soon. I like what you're doing.

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Yeah, sorry, I took a few days off. I'll probably do only one a day for a while, until I'm sick of my X-Box 360. Which will make the newspaper seem more realistic. I'm also going to start putting the date of each game on there, as well as MLB standings, and A standings.

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Sorry for the delay folks, but I'm back now. Ok, I kinda messed up with the paper for today, so bear with me.

Today, after the game, I got a little visit from Mr. Joseph Bain, owner of the Kinston Indians, and mayor of Kinston. He is also the man in charge of my salary, as well as my job.

"Mr. Jones, why did you pull Mitch out of the game today?"

"Well, the kid allowed eight runs, and my tolerance is limited to a max of six. If I left him in there, it would have been worse."

"He may have pitched his way out of it."

"How? Strike a few guys out, and the ump takes a few runs off. You know as well as I do that he was terrible. Why do you keep asking about it?"

"Because Mitch is my nephew, and you embarrassed him in front of our hwole family when you took him out in the middle of an inning. We all wanted to see him pitch seven firm innings today."

"Well, ****. I dont care that he's your nephew, I could care less if he was my own damn kid. If you get wacked from sun rise to sun set, you aint going to win ball games."

"Do I have to remind you that I didn't want you for the job as manager. I was doing this as a favor to your friend. He pritty much begged me for this job for you, and althought I cant fire him, I sure as can fire you. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Also, I got a complaint from another player of yours, Juan Dellaero. He wants some playing time. He said that you dislike him because he's hispanic."

"Oh, come on, thats bull****!"

"Is it? I have heard from Mitch that it isn't. As far as I'm concerned, I can dismiss you right now, but I'll give you another chance. But listen up you slimeball, next time you screw up, and its your ***. GOT IT!"

"Yes sir."

"Good." And with that he walked out of my office.


"Yeah?" I looked, and it was Randy Cody, my third baseman. "Oh, hi, great game today, four for five, single, two doubles, and a homer. You were our teams MVP. Keep playing like that, and you'll be a MLB All Star in no time."

"Thanks Skip. I overhears what went on in here, and dont worry. He's a *****, but if you do what he asks, he'll go to hell and leave you alone. Also, Mitch is a baby. He probably teamed up with Dellaero with that story. Just dont sweat it, ok?"

"Oh, dont worry about me. I'll see you tomorow. Alright?"

"Alright Skip."

On my way out of the clubhouse, I saw Dellaero joking with Mitch and Bain. They were all laughing, and doing some weird dance. "Is this what these God Damned hicks do down here?" I wish I never came now."


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