Ken, Mike, and Sergei: A Fable

Sergei often thought about the open road. “Oh, the things I could do out there. Boy, howdy. What I could do out there. I’m stuck in Motown. I could be living it up in the sun.”His parents, Ken and Mike, provided the best they could for him. They bought him automobiles, gave him endless amounts of money, because they cared about their son.

They didn’t understand the kind of people Sergei hung around. “Pat understands me, Dad!” he screamed after a fight. Pat Brisson, the no good punk who just moved in next door. Ken, the “Dad” of the relationship got his temper stirred, yelling “Fine, go out there. See what you get! No one is going to provide for you the way we do!”

So Pat and Sergei loaded up into a Ferrari onto the open road. The found a pond in South California with a nice view, but when their people listened to Pat’s demands, they wondered if they should take such a risk. “I don’t know, $12 million? Seems mighty steep. Give us some time to think about it?” Pat left after they exchanged AIM screen names, but the people from California didn’t answer back.

Next, they visited the millionaires in New York. Sergei thought, “This isn’t sunny. And I wouldn’t be the only big guy here.” Pat responded bitterly, “But now you’ll be FREE! No obligations to win!”

“Sorry, kids, but we’re losing money fast. We just can’t afford to keep you here. Come back and see us in a while. We’ll have a spot open after Eric suffers a severe head trauma.”

Dejected, but still hoping to find the proverbial El Dorado, Sergei and Pat went to St. Louis.

The man from St. Louis wearing a blue suit said, “I’ll give you a load of money, but for one year, ’cause we’re gonna bail outta here after 2004. You understand, see? Every man for himself?”

Sergei had seen it all so clearly. There was no promised land. There was no land of riches. “Pat, I’m sick of travelling all over the place. I–I wanna go home!”

“No! It’s not too late, I–we can still beat them!”

“I don’t want to beat anyone! I just want to get paid.”

“Fine, but I’m taking the Ferrari, jerk.”

And off Pat drove into the Missouri sunset. Sergei hitched a ride on the back of a farm truck all the way back to Motown. He returned to the footsteps where he grew up with his friends, where he had his best memories. There were his parents, sitting on the front porch with a contract. Ken and Mike smiled. “We knew you’d be back.” The dirty and pathetic Sergei fell to his knees, crying, signing his name to the 4 year, $34 million deal. “I’m sorry, Dads.”

Clearly the qualitity of this fiction isn’t that good, but make no bones about it: money talks and Sergei listens. Detroit is the only team ponying up reasonable numbers for him. Unless other teams start clearing up room, Sergei, despite the appearance of burned bridges, could make a reluctant return to Motown.

–MC


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