RETURN OF THE MACK
In the first three installments of this satirical short tall tale (links here—Part I, Part II, Part III), the re-animated Philadelphia A’s owner-manager Connie Mack (b.1862- ???) has hitchhiked to Oakland and hired a lawyer to lay claim to his former team. Baseball Commissar Roi Mangled and neglectful A’s owner Joe Fissure were getting mercy-ruled in the PR battle, and it seems that with a flood of GoFundMe dough, Oakland fan groups just might have a toehold on the revolving door vortex that’s been sucking their squads to the desert. Rocky Balboa ain’t got nothing on Connie Mack—he’s the ultimate underdog from six feet under. (illustration: Gary Lucy – IG: @instagarylucy)
FINALE – Part IV:
“What Color Is Your Parachute (Pants)?”
When the “Nightline” camera crew is snickering at your ass, you know that any semblance of dignity has left your building. MLB Commissar Roi Mangled had just been humiliated by an undead icon who pointed out that he shouldn’t be afraid of zombie ownership, since he himself had brought “ghost runners” to the game.
Mangled tried to climb off the canvas and score points by reminding folks that Mr. Mack’s nose had fallen off recently. How could he possibly keep it together as owner, if he couldn’t keep it together, period?
But body-shaming a zombie will get you nowhere, fast. Howard Gumption, the mercurial Oakland lawyer, cut in and said that his client had recently undergone a procedure by celebrity plastic surgeon Brad Chiselder to take care of “that little schnoz issue,” and flippantly added that there were many current owners who might want to upgrade various drooping appendages of their own as well.
Message boards had his back. Fans pointed out that with such a stinky on-field product, maybe Mr. Mack was just being sensorially sensible.
It got to the point where the Oakland players, already surprisingly vocal about their dismay with management’s plans, rose up and took their civil disobedience next level. It was impossible to tell if longtime infielder Stoney Camp planned to rip his pants when he slid into second on a double, but the fact that it revealed green underwear with “Sell” lovingly embroidered on the backside sealed the deal. Plus, it earned him a standing ovation from the Green Moon Odom posse out in left.
But the real capper was in Sunday’s home finale. When closer Tremayne Vork was warming up in the 9th, his usual thunderous rock-and-roll prelude suddenly switched to Johnny Paycheck’s “Take This Job and Shove It.” With that, Vork strode off the mound, unfolding a piece of paper from his back pocket that simply said, “Bye Bye Billionaire!” He moseyed past the protective netting down the right field line, climbed into the stands, and exited the stadium, high-fiving delirious fans on his way out. The “Norma Rae”-meets-Lou Gehrig moment was the sport’s first in-game retirement. Vork later confirmed his decision on a podcast but reiterated that he would happily come back if Mr. Mack was in charge.
Public opinion polls were overwhelmingly in favor of Mr. Mack being able to purchase his team back. The “contract” he’d produced, an agreement scrawled on a cocktail napkin from a Waldorf-Astoria owners’ meeting in the 1950s, seemed to be growing sturdier by the day.
While the grand jury was being seated, cascades of currency flowed into the GoFundMe, eventually landing at over $3 billion, more than double the franchise’s estimated value. Despite it all, owner Joe Fissure, the scion of an acid-washed jeans empire, told the Las Vegas Review-Journal that he had “zero interest in selling the A’s, as they are a treasured folder in my family’s portfolio.”
The very next day, Green Moon Odom had printed out “Treasured Folders” to pass out at the team’s last home series. Zelda Gumption interviewed fans outside the gates for her skyrocketing TikTok account, asking “What’s in your family’s portfolio?” The answers ranged from the vague to the vulgar, but the consensus was clear.
