It is late April–spring bursts through every dingy, tired office in St. Louis as the NHL gives way to major league baseball. In one of those offices sit the spring-bearers themselves, TONY and WALT. In the cramped, neo-Buschian office a ceiling fan’s drone is the only thing to distract from the important wheeling and dealing going on. Suddenly, a break in the tension–Tony leaps out of his chair. Walt waits, transfixed.

TONY: Go fish! That’s like fifteen in a row, you suck at this game.

WALT: (Throwing his cards down.) I know, I know–yeah, you’re The Genius, etc. etc. Look, was there something else you wanted to tell me about? I’ve kind of got some business to take care of otherwise.

TONY: The business of losing to me at Go Fish! Okay, okay, yeah. Walt, we need an outfielder; that beanpole you signed us is neither productive nor Italian, and I’m not going to stand for that.

(Walt reaches down for his laptop and sets it atop the unsorted pile of cards.)

WALT: You know, you could’ve brought this to my attention a little earlier. I mean, there aren’t many talented outfielders just floating around in late April.

TONY: I know, I’d've told you sooner except I was too busy killing you at–

WALT: I get it. Anyway, I searched WebCrawler for “Available Outfielder Who Can Hit”, and it’s not looking promising. What about one of those minor leaguers?

TONY: Did you put the search terms in quotes? I mean, that helps for me, but–

WALT: Yes.

TONY: Okay, fine. Who we got?

WALT: Okay, let me bring up Memphis’s roster. We’ve got… Chris Duncan.

TONY: After Dave spoiled Poseidon for me? Fat chance, that.

WALT: Next up, Shaun Boyd.

TONY: Well… I suppose I could play him out of position at second base, and he is fast, but… keep going.

WALT: Ah… Larry Bigbie?

TONY: (Thinking) Hey–I’ve heard of that guy! But keep going.

WALT: John Gall?

(There is a prolonged silence. The ceiling fan stops spinning. After a few minutes, things suddenly spring back to life, and Walt and Tony go on as though nothing has happened.)

WALT: Larry Bigb–wait, no, did him. Uh, who’s next… Prentice Redman?

TONY: Redman. Redman. Is his brother Tike available? Tike. There was a guy. Fast, and… and, he was fast. Vrooom.

WALT: Let me just… nope. Minor league deal.

TONY: Ah, man. Well, I guess we’ll just have to make due. Before we get back to the Go Fish, I don’t suppose you could check Alta-Vista for anybody similar to Tike? Speedy.

WALT: Well, I suppose so. Let’s see, I’ll just go to advanced search. We want a guy who’s fast, but can’t get on base; plays the outfield poorly in spite of that speed; doesn’t hit for power; and… has an adolescent-sounding name that starts with T. Did I get everything?

TONY: Yeah.

WALT: All right… wow. Didn’t expect that. This guy fits every category. How does Timo Perez sound?

TONY: Amazing. Get the Reds on the phone! They can have Reyes, or Wainwright, or Rasmus, or or–

WALT: (On phone.) –yeah, cash? You sure? Great, I’ll PayPal it right over. Thanks, Wayne. (Sets phone down.) We got him.

TONY: Man, this just–it really makes my day. Almost as much as the Go Fish. Get Dunc on the phone, I want to see how he can feign happiness.

WALT: (To audience, with a knowing wink.) Almost as well as me!