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The Florida Marlins: Behind the Scenes

Guest FlummoxedLummox

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Guest FlummoxedLummox

So, my roommate and I were joking about McKeon, and what a hard ass he is. And while drunk after the All-Star Game we made up this fake scenario.




Admin Beinfest walks into Jack McKeon's office. Nervously, he begins to speak.


"Uh, Jack...um...well me and Jeffrey were talking, and if it's okay with you...we'd like to...uh....f-f-fire...let you go."


McKeon, who is smoking a cigar, walks over to Beinfest. He looks up and down, and then stares at him until Beinfest looks away.


"Is it okay with ME? You prick, you have a lot of f***ing nerve. Do you know who the f*** I am??? f*** NO it's not okay with me!!! I own your ass. Get lost. I'm the f***ING alpha and omega!!! You are nothing!!! I was winning baseball games while you were still sucking at your mommy's tit!!"


At this point, Jack picks the General Manager up over his and throws him against the wall. Hunched in the corner, Beinfest begins to talk pleadingly.


"Jack, please!!! I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, I swear. You can stay, you can even have a raise. 200% It was Loria, Jack, it wasn't me, I promise. He never liked you. Who do you think brought you here in the first place? Jeffrey never thought you could do it. He said you were too old. I think you're perfect Jack. Perfect. Honestly."


Seemingly mollified, McKeon turns his back to walk away. As he does, Beinfest speaks up and calls his name. McKeon turns around menacingly.


"J-J-Jack. See, I have a problem. Well...Loria, wants something done, Jack. Something has to change, he doesn't like how the team is responding. He says that someone has to take the fall and that Robinson needs to go. The fanbase is agitated that we've been so inactive."


Beinfest is still hunched up against the wall. McKeon strolls over to him and squats beside him, holding his lit cigar in his hand.


"Admin, you know I've always thought you were a good kid. But good kids sometimes need to learn a lesson. Look at that catcher, that f***in' Williston kid. He was uppity, thought he knew everything, so I taught him a few things. 'Batting practice accident...' Ha!! He'll play ball again. Not this year and not with me, but he'll play. Now open your shirt Admin."


Beinfest pleads with McKeon.


"No Jack!!! Please!! Not again. Please, not that."


McKeon shakes his head.


"Don't make this worse for you than it already is. Like I said, you're a good kid Admin."


Beinfest unbuttons his shirt to reveal a chest riddled with pink circular scars. With his cigar in hand, McKeon leans in towards Beinfest. Beinfest screams. The cigar makes a sizzling noise as he presses it into his skin. Smoke rises as Beinfest's skin gets singed.


"AHHHH!!! Jack, I'm sorry!!! I didn't mean anything by it. Please! It hurts!! The team is yours Jack, it's yours. Don't worry. You have our complete support. If you want Bill to stay, he stays. If you don't want the rookies to play, they won't play. Please, no more Jack. You win."


McKeon gets up, walks over to his desk, where a batting helmet is sitting. Raising his fist, the Manager slams it down onto the Helmet, crushing it completely. He takes a deep breath, then speaks.


"Fine Admin. That's just fine. Now pick your f***ing ass up, and get the f*** out of my office, you son of a bitch. And if I hear one more word from you pricks, telling me how to do my job, you'll wish I was as kind as to you as I was today. Got it??? NOW, GET THE f*** OUT. THIS IS MY TEAM! THESE ARE MY PLAYERS! I AM THE FLORIDA MARLINS!!!"


Crying, Admin Beinfest scrambles out of the office, falling over himself as he runs out the door. His sobs echo througout the clubhouse.

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