Now Ilguaskas worked in the front office and as such had a wonderfully moderate salary, a rather plush Cleveland apartment that did not stray too far from the Rustic Masses, and the reputation of a solid, if clumsy and unambitious businessman. GM Danny Ferry was finally stepping down as Cavaliers GM to seek some job in European basketball. And his assistant, a middle-aged man known mostly for his persistance, would be named his replacement, presumably in the next several hours. It was eight o'clock in the morning, and any minute over the course of the day, Big Z or Mr. Ilguaskas as he was known as now, or what have you, would be named General Manager of his former franchise, the Cleveland Cavaliers of the National Basketball Association. Not to say it was official - but Mr. Ilgauskas's promotion was set in stone except for a contract. Mr. Ferry had promised him this promotion yesterday and this contract would only be the "logical conclusion of an existing fact", Danny Ferry had said. Ilgauskas sighed and opened the drapes of his apartment. "What is the logical conclusion of an existing fact?" he asked himself? Ilgauskas saw that dim shade of blood that iron can turn in the distances of Cleveland. The clock, he now noted, was eight oh five.
Some two hours after this, Mr. Ilgauskas was called into his office after a short nap of manifold little pleasant images strung together by the light of the morning and the smell of the hot coffee pot neglected in the kitchen near his sofa. Checking his hygiene and dress briefly, Ilgauskas put on a blue-and-red Cavaliers sweater and a perfunctory Indians cap and then he went out the door into the mid-morning of Cleveland in Spring, its bleak hues redundant upon his sweater. He smiled and breathed in the cool air. "Finally", he thought, "My recognition will be total and legitimate." His first title with Cleveland had been marred by a surreal trade. His franchise record for games played had been marred by a surreal benching on the very night he'd brought his family. His Lithuanian Olympics, his childhood dream, had been cut short by Ferry. But now, it was his turn to lead this organization, and there could be no doubt of the respect this position would carry. "And not too much more responsibility," he thought, "Just enough to keep me busy."
In the press room, raspily-aging horse Mike Brown sat on Ferry's left flank as the latter prepared to make his announcement, and waiting for five or so minutes for Ilgauskas to arrive, clapped heartily upon his arrival. Matching Ilgauskas with his own sweater and Indians cap, Ferry seemed to be on the ball, and summoned the larger man into his presence and invited him on stage.
Once Ilgauskas was on the stage, Ferry asserted himself on the podium and spoke directly to the media, the former players, the current players, and the rest of the coaching staff.
"In the long history of Big Z, let it be known: He has always been the first and last horse in every race." Applause seemed to come from inside and outside the building. "He has always built our bridges, he has always visited our charities, and in a way, " Ferry paused, "He is a symbol, for all of the injustices this team has visited upon others, and all the injustices this team has visited upon itself...."
Ilgauskas felt a little odd, but also felt vindicated. "They know me!" he thought, "And they have always wanted me to be happy."
"...And that is why it is sad to announce one more sad injustice to be visited upon him. You see, folks, the Cavaliers charter prohibits Lithuanians from our team, and in fact, always has."
A gasp from the press room. LeBron, in the front row, fainted.
"Therefore, let it be decided, that retroactively, Mr. Ilgauskas shall, until further notice, be stricken from our record-books."
"But, while this does mean that he cannot serve in any official position," Mr. Ferry smiled, "We can always have a helping hand, and Cleveland can always use another great man to lift us up. Oh wait, I messed up the sentence there. Okay. Cleveland can always use another helping hand, but Mr. Ilgauskas, let it be known, was never a great man. However, there is a great man ready to lift us up."
Just then Mike Brown put on Ferry's offered hat and sweater and walked across the iron stage towards the podium.
"That's right, everyone. Say hello to your new general manager. I'm gonna ride this horse until I die!"
While there was some suppressed applause, the real story that got the press room's attention was the stage holding all three men, which had collapsed in rust and disuse.
Some two hours after this, Mr. Ilgauskas was called into his office after a short nap of manifold little pleasant images strung together by the light of the morning and the smell of the hot coffee pot neglected in the kitchen near his sofa. Checking his hygiene and dress briefly, Ilgauskas put on a blue-and-red Cavaliers sweater and a perfunctory Indians cap and then he went out the door into the mid-morning of Cleveland in Spring, its bleak hues redundant upon his sweater. He smiled and breathed in the cool air. "Finally", he thought, "My recognition will be total and legitimate." His first title with Cleveland had been marred by a surreal trade. His franchise record for games played had been marred by a surreal benching on the very night he'd brought his family. His Lithuanian Olympics, his childhood dream, had been cut short by Ferry. But now, it was his turn to lead this organization, and there could be no doubt of the respect this position would carry. "And not too much more responsibility," he thought, "Just enough to keep me busy."
In the press room, raspily-aging horse Mike Brown sat on Ferry's left flank as the latter prepared to make his announcement, and waiting for five or so minutes for Ilgauskas to arrive, clapped heartily upon his arrival. Matching Ilgauskas with his own sweater and Indians cap, Ferry seemed to be on the ball, and summoned the larger man into his presence and invited him on stage.
Once Ilgauskas was on the stage, Ferry asserted himself on the podium and spoke directly to the media, the former players, the current players, and the rest of the coaching staff.
"In the long history of Big Z, let it be known: He has always been the first and last horse in every race." Applause seemed to come from inside and outside the building. "He has always built our bridges, he has always visited our charities, and in a way, " Ferry paused, "He is a symbol, for all of the injustices this team has visited upon others, and all the injustices this team has visited upon itself...."
Ilgauskas felt a little odd, but also felt vindicated. "They know me!" he thought, "And they have always wanted me to be happy."
"...And that is why it is sad to announce one more sad injustice to be visited upon him. You see, folks, the Cavaliers charter prohibits Lithuanians from our team, and in fact, always has."
A gasp from the press room. LeBron, in the front row, fainted.
"Therefore, let it be decided, that retroactively, Mr. Ilgauskas shall, until further notice, be stricken from our record-books."
"But, while this does mean that he cannot serve in any official position," Mr. Ferry smiled, "We can always have a helping hand, and Cleveland can always use another great man to lift us up. Oh wait, I messed up the sentence there. Okay. Cleveland can always use another helping hand, but Mr. Ilgauskas, let it be known, was never a great man. However, there is a great man ready to lift us up."
Just then Mike Brown put on Ferry's offered hat and sweater and walked across the iron stage towards the podium.
"That's right, everyone. Say hello to your new general manager. I'm gonna ride this horse until I die!"
While there was some suppressed applause, the real story that got the press room's attention was the stage holding all three men, which had collapsed in rust and disuse.
I actually like this piece in the wake of Z being sent to the Wizards. Sneakily one of my favorites that I've written. Inspired by "The Giving Z" by John Krolik. I hope they retire his (and Krolik's for that matter) jersey number someday.
ReplyDelete