Welcome to the Show, Kyle Seager

After tonights offensive apocalypse, Eric Wedge walked into the club house tonight to address his heartbroken squad. "Team, that was a rough one." he said, stroking his awesome mustache. "that kid out there had his shit going. There were times tonight when I found myself praying for the rapture because of how ineffective we were. Against that KID." Wedge made a point to emphasise the fact that he kept calling him "that kid" because he legitimetly didn't know what the fuck his name was and was embarrassed that his squad made him look like Greg Maddox.

(editors note: his name is Guillermo Moscoso (I had to look it up on ESPN), a 27 year old righty who had made 19 career appearences before tonights start. Truth be told, his season stats paint a picture of a possible top prospect (50 innings pitched 2.16 era). His age being 27, however seems to disagree adamently witht that point. Regardless, all signs point to the Mariners just got the salad tossed for the second time this week by a shitty spot starter. Sweet. Now, return to my story.)

Wedge took a moment to evaluate the mood over the team as a whole. The team was somber. They looked collectively as if they were but a little boy who had watched his treasured puppy get sodimized by their mean, drunken uncle. Which in reality, getting shut out by the shitty Oakland Athletics is absolutely in the same ball park. "I'm sure we'll get them back tomorrow."

Just then, as if he was waiting to piggy back Wedge's brief 'get em next time' speach, and to use it to segway his entrance, a noticibly drunk Jack Zduriencik stumbled into the lockroom and over to where Wedge was speaking. His bald head and cheeks were as red as the ink on Frank McCourts bank ledger. He awkwardly put his arm around Wedge, and whispered into his face. Not his ear, but his whole face. An expression of repulsion over took Wedge, who apparently doesn't appreciate the smell of whiskey sours on the breath of someone taking up his personal space.

The players sat in silence as Jack Z and Eric had a private conversation right in front of them. After a few moments, Jack stepped away from his uncomfortably close postion in front of Wedge, and walked away.

"Well, that was interesting. " Wedge started, again addressing his players. " Z just informed me that starting tomorrow we will have a new teammate. Kyle Seager will be joining us from Tacoma." Dustin Ackely fist pumped to the news, while the rest of the team just returned a blank, confused stare.

"Oh you guys remember him, he's an infielder and was in Spring Training with us for a cup of coffee. We sent him to Jacksonville where he pillaged the pitchers enough that we recently promoted him to Tacoma. Long story short, the kid will be here tomorrow." The revelation of the kids defensive skill set was all the team needed to know, to understand the promotion. Wedge then confirmed their suspicions by saying, "Z says, 'He'll be playing 3rd for the foreseeable future'. "

23 of the other players joined Ackley in celebrating the former 3rd round draft choice from 2009, even Jose Yepez, the catcher who would eventually find out it was his demotion that would make room for Seagers arrival. This Mariners, a team who has struggle so mightily offensively this year ( in particular at the 3rd Base position) that it seemed like an answered prayer at long last when they were reminded Kyle Seager is a 3rd baseman. Everyone was happy, except one.

Off in a secluded corner of Oaklands visitors club house, sat a half naked Chone Figgins. He knew what this meant for him. His abismal play had been a constant hot button subject in the Seattle media, and he knew that Seagers arrival meant that his .186 season average had finally out weighed that abortion of a 9.5 million dollar contract that kept him in the lineup.

It wasn't long before the rest of the team was dressed and exited the locker room. Chone Figgins, who once was good enough to start for a World Series Championship team, still sat in his little corner. Most of the lights had since been turned off, except for one by the exit and the one in the managers office where Eric Wedge still occupied. No one had said anything directly to him since the news, but he was pretty sure he over heard Felix Hernandez and Doug Fister talk about how big of a fag he was as they walked passed.

The more he thought about it the more it made him want to cry. He thought he could just go through the motions and collect a paycheck and everything would have been good. He might've been right if the Mariners pitchers didn't pitch like the lives of their families depended on it every night. Close, competative games magnify every little thing about how a team opperates. In Chone's case, batting .189 is normally bad, but since the M's are in just about every game, it feels like he is batting .025. He could feel the tears starting to stream down his face. Like a selfish child deciding he wanted to play with a toy only after seeing another kid play with it.

"Chone, you're still here?" Eric said, walking out of his office.

"Coach, I gotta talk to you. I feel like I can still contrib-" Eric held up his hand stopping Chone mid sentence.

"Chone, stop right there. I gotta tell you, with out a doubt, you are the worst baseball player I have ever coached. And I've been on two different teams with Milton Bradley." Chone was shocked. He has heard some evil things from fan's and the media about his play over the last two years, but nothing from a coach. Nothing that hurt quite like that. " You make what, 9 this season?"

Chone nodded. " Wow. That's alot. In my mind, thats robbery. You are getting paid more money then Miguel (Olivo) Justin (Vargas) Adam (Kennedy) Justin (Smoak) and Brandon (League) combined. Yet, instead of feeling like you owe the city and franchise something- ANYTHING- for giving you that undeserved contract, you found a way to not only give NOTHING, but take things away too."

Chone began to sob uncontrolably. The kind of crying where he can't catch his breath. " Stop. Stop crying right now. You look like a little bitch. Look Chone, I'm going to be honest here. I was so excited when Jack told me that, that... I can't even find the words. I was so happy that when I went into my office, first thing I did was I called up my wife and had phone sex with her. PHONE SEX! AT MY AGE! Can you fucking believe it?!? I haven't ejaculated like that since I was in my 20's. So I guess you did that for me."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, bring a book tomorrow. You have a better chance at making the Hall of Fame then seeing any playing time tomorrow." And with that, Wedge put his coat on and exited the locker room.