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Taking Matters Into My Own Hands


der meister

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               Time and again I have made a conscious effort not to get involved in what is going on with the players I'm covering as a journalist. There are some inevitable instances where that policy is untenable, but by and large I sincerely try to stay out of the affairs of the players.

 

               This was the thought that kept repeating in my mind as I waited in a small room outside of the office of Mr. Frostbeard, the General Manager of the D.C. Dragons, who had just acquired the player I've been embedded with, Ryuji Sakamoto. Sakamoto, for his part, was and is unaware of my actions, and I suspect that will remain the case unless he suddenly takes interest in the articles I've been writing about him. At this point, after half a dozen seasons together, that seems unlikely.

              

               Mr. Frostbeard's secretary, a lovely young woman, petite, with remarkably pale blonde hair and high, narrow cheekbones, sat behind a desk in the same small room, busied herself with filing, typing, and answering the occasional phone call. Aside from greeting me when I entered, she had kept to herself, which left my mind free to contemplate exactly what I wanted to say to Mr. Frostbeard once I was admitted into his office.

              

               The words had only barely begun to form when the dark stained wooden door to Mr. Frostbeard's office opened, revealing the man himself. I had expected an aged man, someone in his mid-50s at least, so you can imagine my surprise when I saw a young man, probably not even 30 yet, though with the hint of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, a touch of wisdom unbefitting his youth. Like his secretary, his hair was so pale as to almost be white, and it struck me that perhaps the duo were of Scandinavian descent.

              

               I rose from my seat and approached Mr. Frostbeard, extending my hand in greeting. "Thank you for meeting with me, sir," I said as he took my hand in a strong grip. His hands were large and surprisingly calloused, as if he spent many hours chopping wood with an axe. "I am here on behalf of Mr. Ryuji Sakamoto, and I believe what I have to tell you will be beneficial for everyone involved."

              

               Mr. Frostbeard nodded sagely and gestured me into his office. It was not as spacious as I would have expected for a VHL executive such as himself, but it was sharply decorated, with a great deal of polished wood making the room seem to glow. Once I situated myself in the chair at which Mr. Frostbeard directed me toward, I took a deep breath. I had to tread carefully.

              

               "Allow me to be blunt," I began once Mr. Frostbeard was likewise seated. "In the past month or so, back in Seattle, Mr. Sakamoto became rather accidentally involved with some particularly unsavory individuals. He's a tremendous hockey player, someone truly dedicated to helping his team succeed on the ice, but he is also impulsive, and prone to acting before considering consequences." No reaction from Mr. Frostbeard, which I took as indication to continue.

              

               "In my line of work, I always have to pay attention to the details of a thing," I continued. "I notice things. For example, your left lapel pin is almost ready to fall off, and you have a small ink smudge on the outside of your left pinky finger, which tells me that you are almost certainly left handed. You were writing something earlier today, whether a series of directives to your staff or a crossword puzzle, I cannot say, but the repetitive movements likely led to your pin." Mr. Frostbeard, for his part, reattached his lapel pin and gave me a lazy smile of acknowledgement. "So with that in mind, I ask you to believe me when I say that you would be best served by trading Ryuji Sakamoto away, ideally outside of the United States."

 

               Mr. Frostbeard's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, he spoke. "You are suggesting that the trade I just made less than a week ago to acquire Sakamoto was a mistake?"

 

               "No, no," I replied quickly. "Not a mistake. But also, not ideal. Allow me to explain, please. There was, during those last few weeks in Seattle, a very real possibility that Sakamoto was on the radar of local authorities. I don't know exactly what he was up to, but I noticed surveillance vehicles more than once, and I know his recounting of his exploits grew increasingly vague."

 

               "Perhaps he was dating a married woman, and her husband hired a private investigator to tail him?" Mr. Frostbeard's scenario, I could see from his perspective, was entirely plausible. But I knew it to be nothing more than wishful thinking.

 

               "That would be a considerably easier situation to deal with, Mr. Frostbeard," I replied. "I have sufficient suspicions that Sakamoto began working as a freelance operative on a series of underground operations. I don't know if it was gunrunning, smuggling, breaking and entering, and I don't want to know. But I believe that's the type of activities he found himself roped in to." At this point, I noticed that my scheduled time with Mr. Frostbeard was nearly up, and I had to move quickly.

 

               "To be frank, I think Sakamoto was doing things that could lead to jail time, and a perhaps not insignificant amount of it. I also believe that the Seattle authorities likely contacted federal agents, and being stationed in Washington, D.C. is probably the worst place for Sakamoto to be, at least until the federal government wraps up their investigation of the Seattle underground scene. I hope, for his sake, Sakamoto is passed over in that wrapping up process, as long as he is outside of the borders of the United States of America."

 

               "To put this another way, Mr. Frostbeard – you could lose the services of Ryuji Sakamoto very suddenly, and receive nothing in terms of compensation. Not only that, but trading for a player who is imprisoned shortly thereafter might be a public relations disaster for your franchise. I only ask that you consider my words, and to know that I am presenting them only in an effort to protect Sakamoto, myself, and your franchise, from future complications."

 

               I rose from my seat and reached across the table to shake Mr. Frostbeard's hand. "I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today, and I hope that you decide to act on what I had to say." I pivoted and left the office, passing the young blonde woman, who did not look up to acknowledge my departure. Now, all I could do was wait.

 

 

 

 

 

***Claiming for this week and the week of April 3, 2023. Including some amazing AI-generated art based on a prompt from this piece***

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I do have to say that this is surely the exact situation that happened and there is in no way a possibility that this chain of events is fabricated, even more - I dare challenge anyone who believes differently and follows disgusting gossip. 

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