'A Bud Selig Christmas Carol,' Stave 3: The Final Spirit and the End of It

The Christmas season means it's time for Christmas Carols and Christmas stories. One of my personal favorites has always been Charles' Dickens A Christmas Carol. This is part three of Bud Selig's Christmas Carol. Click here to read Stave One and here to read Stave Two.

The specter floated towards Selig. As it approached, the air seemed to get colder and Selig felt as if what little joy he had in him was being sucked out. The ghost was shrouded in a deep black cloak that covered its head. The cloak was so black that the figure itself seemed nearly invisible in the darkness. As the tall figure approached Selig, Bud was filled with dread. In a stammering voice, he spoke: "Am I in the presence of the Ghost of World Series Yet to Come?"

The spirit did not speak. Instead, it simply pointed one bony finger at the ground. Selig felt compelled to keep speaking. "You're here to show me the shadows of World Series that haven't happened yet? Is that why you're here?" He thought he saw the phantom nod in agreement, but there was really no way to be certain in the darkness.

After the second ghost visited, Selig thought he would be prepared for the third, but this spirit terrified him. He told it so, but as it was wont to do, the ghost said nothing. Instead, it began to float, and Selig saw no choice but to follow it.

Soon, he realized they were no longer in his luxury suite in Citizen's Bell Park, nor were they anywhere in the park at all. They were walking on a busy New York City street on what seemed to be a brisk fall morning. Two men stood talking and Selig overheard them.

"Yeah, I caught a bit of the Rangers game last night," the first man started, "Bit of a rough start, but, hey, the Flyers should be a good team this year.
At least hockey's finally back, it seems like it's been forever since the season ended and we had sports to care about."

"Well, amen to that. And hey, even though LeBron never came, the Knicks might not suck this year."

Both men laughed hysterically at this. Despite the uncannily expository nature of their conversation, Selig was puzzled. With the whole future at his fingertips, why was the ghost showing him this? The ghost began to float again and Selig followed. And, again, they approached two men talking.

"How did the Yankees do last night?" the first asked.

"The Yankees? How should I know? Why should I care?" the second asked, "No one's cared about the Yankees for 10 years!"

The first man grumbled away as Selig gaped. He and the ghost continued through the busy streets, listening to snippets of conversation. The weather, the Knicks, the Jets, the Giants, the upcoming election, the Rangers, even the New York Red Bulls were all on the lips of the people that morning. Baseball was barely mentioned at all.

"Spirit, is it not October? Can you show me no one that cares about baseball? Take me to Yankee Stadium! Surely someone there will see things differently."

Selig and the ghost walked to the stadium. As they approached it, night somehow fell. They entered the sparsely populated stadium. On the field, the Yankees played the Mets. After several minutes, Selig realized he was watching a World Series game between the Yankees and the Mets that was only attended by about 5,000 people. He was confused and horrified.

"Oh, ghastly spirit! I take your meaning well! Some poor soul has destroyed baseball and if I'm not careful, the same thing may happen to me! But I must know, why has this happened? What is it that has brought baseball to this sorry fate? Please, spirit, tell me!"

The spirit remained mute and again only pointed. Selig saw a copy of the Daily News crumpled up in the corner. He turned it over to the Sports page and the headline made his stomach churn:

BUD SELIG, DEAD AT 90

-- Milwaukee (AP) On the day after the most sparsely attended World Series game in 125 years, the man responsible for killing the Series is dead himself.

Alan Huber "Bud" Selig Jr. was born on July 30, 1934 in Milwaukee and is best remembered for his reign of terror in Major League Baseball, first as acting Commissioner (1992-1998), then as Commissioner (1998-2012). In that span, he oversaw a tie All-Star Game in 2002, a World Series that ended with a 5-inning, rain shortened game in 2008, the first ever neutral-site, tape-delayed World Series game in 2012, and the steroid scandal that ripped the sport apart shortly after the turn of the century.

The story went on, but Selig could read no further. "Am I the man that's ruined baseball?"

The spirit pointed to the field, then back to him.

"No, spirit! Oh, no, no!"

"Hear me, spirit! I am not the man I once was! I will not become the man I must have been for this to occur! Why show me all this if I am past hope?"

The spirit's hand, which still pointed at him, began to shake.

"I will honor the World Series and all of baseball in my heart! I will live in the past, present, and future of the game! The spirits of all three shall live within me! I will not forget the lessons you have taught me! Oh, please tell me I may erase this dreadful obituary!"

He reached up and grabbed the spirit's hand. The spirit attempted to rend itself free and, though Selig was strong in his desperation, it did so. The commissioner threw his hands up in a final prayer to save him from his awful fate and he saw the spirit collapse in its hood and become an empty chair.

Selig look over from the chair. He was back in his box, and in his time with a chance to make amends. He looked outside and saw the rain pouring from on to the un-covered field. He reached for a phone and called down to the umpires, "I will live in the past, present, and future! The spirits of all three shall reside within me! Oh, Marge Schott! We must suspend this game and resume it when the weather as cleared! We must do it for the sake of baseball!"

Home plate umpire Jeff Kellogg was puzzled and responded, "Uh, sir, the game is tied. It's allowed for within the rules to suspend the game. We were going to cover the field right now, as a matter of fact and we just wanted to tell you that we were going to do it."

"Yes! Yes! Do it!" Selig sprinted out of his box and towards the press conference he knew would be waiting for him.

"I don't know what to do!" Selig cried breathlessly in joy to the gathered reporters, "I'm as light as a feathers, as happy as an angel, as merry as a schoolboy! I am as giddy as a drunken man! A happy World Series to everyone! Hallo here! Whoop! Hallo!"

The gathered reporters looked puzzledly at each other. They'd never quite seen a man so happy to make a non-decision a full inning after a decision needed to be made, but they weren't about to try and understand Bud Selig at this point. He sprinted out of the room and the reporters shrugged and began to write whatever they felt like writing anyways. In the privacy of their mom's basements, the bloggers savaged Selig for not making a decision, but he didn't care.

As the grumpy, wet fans began to file out of Citizen's Bank Park, Selig sprinted to greet them, shouting, "Happy, World Series! You'll get a true ending now! And Tiny Tim will get his turkey!"

A large man with a larger mustache gave him the finger. Another man in a faded Ron Jaworski jersey gave him a wet willie. Someone yelled, "What are you so happy about? This should've ended two innings ago!" Selig still didn't care. He returned to his press box and began to make plans for the World Series to begin at an earlier date in 2009. He talked to the FOX executives about moving the start times of the games back.

The series ended two nights later in an exciting, dramatic three-inning sprint to finish, and when the FOX executives pressured him to play the playoffs in two-part installations in 2009 with only the second half televised, he told them no. They were surprised to see him use some backbone.

Would he see the spirits again? That cannot be said for sure, as he has years ahead of him in which he must prove that he's learned from the lessons of the three spirits. Many men would do anything for the second chance that Bud Selig received on that fateful October night, but only he can take advantage of it.