Story code: ST-001151
Part 2: The Clause in the Contract
I unfolded the paper Toby had slid across the laminate counter. It wasn’t the training contract his father had demanded he sign. It was a formal, printed roster withdrawal notice, already signed by Toby, dated for tonight.
‘Process it, please,’ Toby said.
I looked from the slip of paper to the master league files on the shelf behind me. As the assistant field coordinator, I handled the team registrations, the roster certifications, and the corporate sponsorships that kept our municipal league running. I knew the contents of those folders by heart. Specifically, I knew the details of the Vance Logistics sponsorship.
Marcus Vance’s logistics company paid for the new electronic scoreboard on Field 1, the batting cages, and the branding rights on every outfield fence in the complex. But that contract wasn’t just a charitable donation. It was a performance-linked marketing agreement. Section 4.2 of the league bylaws, which Marcus himself had insisted on drafting to showcase his family’s athletic dominance, stated that the ‘Vance Logistics Showcase Branding’ remained active only as long as an immediate family member of the sponsor was listed on the league’s active, primary showcase roster.
If Toby withdrew, the league was legally required to tear down the Vance banners before tomorrow’s televised regional showcase. More importantly, the league would have to refund the pro-rated portion of the sponsorship-nearly twelve thousand dollars-and Marcus’s business would lose the prime advertising spot right when his company was bidding on the county shipping contract. Marcus needed Toby’s name on that roster far more than Toby needed the trophies locked in the SUV. Without Toby on the field, the entire marketing apparatus Marcus built around his son’s pitching arm would collapse.
‘Toby,’ I said, keeping my voice low. ‘If I enter this into the database, it’s final. The system sends an automated notification to the league board and the sponsors within five minutes.’
‘I know,’ Toby said. He didn’t blink. His breathing was slow, even. ‘Enter it.’
Outside, the car door of the SUV clicked open. Marcus had noticed Toby standing at the equipment window for too long. He walked across the gravel, his leather shoes crunching loudly in the quiet night. He pulled open the screen door, his chest out, a tight, patronizing smile on his face.
‘Time’s up, Toby,’ Marcus said, not looking at me. ‘The gates lock in ten minutes. Sign the training agreement, get your bag, and let’s go. Stop making a scene.’
Toby didn’t look at his father. He kept his eyes on me. ‘Is it processed, Gabe?’
I clicked the mouse, the blue light of the monitor reflecting off the glass of the display. ‘It’s in the system, Toby. You’re officially removed from the showcase roster.’
Marcus’s smile vanished. He stepped closer to the counter, his hand coming down flat on the wood. ‘What did you just do?’