Field of Dreams?

Strange phenomenon sends CBA into a fit of confusion

– Samson Barnes

I don’t feel the need to offer a lot in the way of descriptions of what is mockingly being called the “Time Knuckler”. That’s been covered in every major news and sports outlet in the world heavily for the last few days, almost all of it dismissively. If somehow you missed it, what basically might have happened is that there has been a large world wide shift in consciousness. One of those Mandela moments maybe. Do you remember a couple of years ago when all of those millennials got on Twitter to swear that the Berenstain Bears was spelled Berenstein Bears and rather than just admit they were wrong, they came up with this convoluted theory about alternate past timelines? Well, they may have been on to something. For the CBA experienced something not dissimilar this very week.

Let’s be clear, officially, we still have a week of games to close out the 2060 regular season. There are no records or recordings of games taking place. While there are a lot of people around the CBA that are reporting a weird feeling of being a bit shuffled in time, and numerous reports of fragments of memories of these games that have yet to be played, there is no concrete evidence to suggest any such thing has occurred. But, folks, I can’t shake this feeling that they did, and I’m not alone.

“No. We won the Bronze League. I am as sure of that as I am my own name.”

Nathan Garrison looks bewildered. A lack of sleep perhaps. I’m told that the GM of the Atlanta Swarm has spent the last few days pacing about in a daze, as if looking for something he misplaced.

“I don’t care if you call me crazy or not. We won. I’m sure of it. We were getting ready to go to celebrate. Do you remember that cute little kid that dressed up in that bee costume in that Blind Melon video all those years ago? Well I found her! I hired her to come back and join us for the party IN BEE COSTUME. It was awesome. I had just confirmed with her that she was en route to the stadium and then… nothing.”

“That music video was from like 1995 or something. Do your players even remember that? Most of them weren’t alive?”  I ask cautiously.

He just looks right past me.

“Was that a lie too?” He wanders off.

Jayden Foney has been all over the CBA landscape this season, and I called to ask him what he remembers.

“Well, I remember I got traded to Minnesota. I told some rando regen looking mother f**er to suck his own d***”. I pitched some games. I thought I pitched another one against those asshole Gremlins. Ian Lamberson can suck his own d***. You can print that by the way. I insist you print that, but I don’t remember what happened.”

“He said that? Well, you asked me a few weeks ago why I traded him and I told you I didn’t want to get into internal matters. Well, there you go. I’ve never seen my team so happy as when he cleaned out his locker.”

Gremlins GM Ian Lamberson, also reports having some fragmented memories.

“No, and also I’m pretty sure we beat them because we stayed up. I know that much. We were in a race to stay out of the relegation playoffs and we went 4 and 2 in the final week against some really tough teams. It was incredible. I was so excited for the guys. Quincy pitched. You don’t remember that?”

I can only shake my head sympathetically.

“I remember… that he was GOING to pitch.” I say. “I remember that. We were all surprised when you called (Juneau Huskies Pitcher Quincy) Budgell up from AAA to make such an important start.”

“Yeah! No, I’m pretty sure I pitched a good game and we won. It feels like a dream, but a really vivid one you know?” Quincy Budgell is an earnest guy. At CBA Prospectus he’s frequently been mentioned as a “player to watch” for his performances down in AAA. He’s not the kind of player that’s going to put you away with mind blowing stuff, but he knows who he is and what he’s good at. Now, he looks as if he’s been lost at sea.

“I was really excited when Mr. Lamberson called me up. I couldn’t believe it. I assumed I’d just hang out in the bullpen, but any trip to Galveston is a privilege. Then he told me that I was going to start and it just made my head explode. But then the game came around and I pitched well and we won. I thought maybe I’d get a chance to stick around next year, but now I’m looking at my phone and I see that he only called me two days ago and the game isn’t for another couple of days. It’s very confusing.”

“We won the Premier League man. I don’t care what anybody else says. I was there.”  Ricky Calleja has been a revelation for the Toronto Mythics this season and is the presumptive Premier League MVP. More than any of the dozens of players and staff I’ve spoken to, Ricky is the most confident that something isn’t right.

“My mother didn’t raise a liar.” Ricky crosses himself. “We won the Premier League. I don’t know about any of this “Time Knuckler” stuff, I don’t care about any of that. We won. That’s it. You all are going to make us play the last week again? Fine. We’ll do it again.”

“Nobody is talking about this, but this isn’t the first time you know?” Mexico City has made Dustyn Richardson seem a bit calmer, a bit tanner. His Texan drawl is even more pronounced.

“It’s not?” I am skeptical.

“Nope. Happened two years ago. A couple of us talked about it, never very seriously. Certainly didn’t blow up like it has this time. Probably Twitter or something.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.” I offer.

“Oh yeah, no skin off our backs. We’re just rebuilding anyway. Nothing exciting for us at the wire this year. Believe me, if we had something on the line I’d be just as bewildered as the other guys. Hell, I was way more interested to see if Ian could manage to not get my championship team relegated.”

“He says he did.”

Richardson laughs. “Well, isn’t that something?”

It’s a strange thing to write and report about. The possibility of some alternate timeline of the CBA existing where six games happened and nobody remembers exactly what occurred. I spoke with some old college friends. Sciencey types. The guys who can sit down and talk about multiverses and infinite parallel timelines comfortably. Just thinking about it makes my head explode in an existential fit. They assure me that it’s certainly possible. Likely even. They tell me that our brains aren’t built to be able to comprehend the full weight of those implications. After spending the week talking to the best minds in baseball, I have to agree.

So we’ll do it again. Or we’ll do it for the first time. I don’t know that I’ll be able to shake these little pieces of recollection. Maybe they’ll dissipate with age like so much else has. Maybe there aren’t alternate timelines. I guess it doesn’t matter because the one we have is the one we’ve got, but I have to admit there are some things I like about that one. I’d like to imagine Budgell’s heroic start to keep an underachieving team from hitting rock bottom. I like to imagine Ricky Calleja taking a victory lap in the last week of his towering Premier League season. I like to think about that girl in that bee costume tap dancing away to Blind Melon showing up to Panera Park confusing the hell out of  a lot of delirious champagne soaked 20 somethings.

And then, I take it even further and think about the other alternate timelines. The one where Kyle Turner doesn’t quit baseball to play golf. The one where Simon Wearne doesn’t fall off a cliff. The one where Tony Trillo stays healthy and Jayden Foney isn’t an insufferable asshole. The one where Dustyn Richardson doesn’t leave Galveston, and Travis still runs the Bay Area Pandas. The one where Paul Brown and Justin Burton never get hurt.  But that’s CBA baseball I suppose, the list of what-ifs will always dwarf the list of what-happeneds. I like all of those timelines, but no matter what happens when we play these six games again,(or for the first time), I’m sure I’ll love that timeline too.

Samson is a lifelong CBA fan and former high-school JV player. In addition to his regular contributions to CBA Prospectus, he also hosts the weekly podcast “Heading Home”, which you can find on your podcast app of choice.

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