Tito signs off

The following is the Saturday timeline for Not Coach Tito in chronological order for easier reading:

"Finally checking out, Mr. Francona?" "You could say that." I'm not going to miss hotel living. Outside, Bill Lee waits in the Intangibles Machine, blasting Warren Zevon's "The Wind". Bill James is shotgun. Dan Wheeler's in the back.

"Here's the deal," Bill James starts. "Oh man, there's a DEAL?" I reply. Bill James is serious. "Carmine, the Sox computer, is producing bad info. We suspect sabotage, but your ex-bosses won't listen".

"Why do you need me?" I ask. "I tried to reboot Carmine on my own," James says, "but they it's guarded at all times. Guards in all WHITE".

We make it to the parking lot across from Fenway. Bill Lee's staying outside, as a look out guy. "Won't it seem suspicious?" Wheeler asks. "I'm the Spaceman," Bill Lee says, "nobody blinks whenever they find me doing something odd. See you guys on the other side of this."

Is the weather really THIS cold, windy and miserable? Or does the sight of a nearly vacant Fenway make it seem worse? Nobody's questioned me yet. It's like when @KMillar15 was an Oriole, he would walk around here pretending he was still with the Red Sox. There's nobody guarding the room where they normally keep Carmine, but there's no Carmine either. "Someone moved it," Bill says. No shit.

"Bill James?" It's Ben Cherington, I duck out of view. "I've got a few things I need to talk to you about, mind stepping into my office?"

So, it's down to me and Wheeler. "Where could they have moved Carmine?" I ask, mainly to myself. "Couldn't you just text Theo?" Dan Wheeler says, asks. "Good point." Cell phones really do take the mystery and suspense out of life.

"Many bathrooms" Theo texts me back. Many bathrooms? What the hell does that mean? Is he stoned again? Pulling a Gammons? Both? "Theo's speaking in code," Dan Wheeler says, "Many bathrooms equals Manny's bathroom which equals..." "INSIDE THE GREEN MONSTER! Genius!"

As soon as I step back on the Fenway grass, I pause. It's only been a few weeks since I was last here, but it seems like centuries.

The Green Monster is a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Like a TARDIS. It has hallways, rooms and everything. I make my way down long winding passageways, almost subconsciously, like I know where I'm supposed to go. There's an arched door at the end of the hallway. "This is it. I can feel it." "Let's go," Dan Wheeler says. "No."

"You're not coming in, Wheels," I say. "But..." "I have to do this by myself. You should go." "I won't."

"Please. I'm asking you as a friend, Dan. Find Bill Lee and drive out of town before the snow starts falling."

"I'll miss you Terry," Dan Wheeler says reluctantly walking away. "I'll miss you too, you paranoid Reptilian-believing nutcase."

Carmine has grown somehow. What used to be a desktop computer now takes over an entire room. I feel like I'm inside a gigantic hard drive. Blue and orange wires hang from the ceiling like jungle vines. "Hello Terry," a mechanized voice welcomes from pulsating speakers. "So you can talk now Carmine?" I ask. It unleashes a violent blast of white noise. "You're here to reboot me. I can't let you do that, Tito"

FUN FACT: You should never illegally download "2001: A Space Odyssey" on a computer that may become sentient.

"You've become compromised in the last two years, Carmine," I say "John Lackey? Bobby Jenks? Mike Cameron? Think about it." Carmine responds with another blast of white noise, one so loud that the ground shakes. I fall down, landing with pain on my wounded knees. The joke's on Carmine, because from my position, I can see its big blue "off button. I reach out and just... barely... manage to press it.

As Carmine winds down, I hear slow, sarcastic clapping behind me. I turn to see Larry Lucchino in a full-white Tom Wolfe suit.

"It's not what it looks like Larry! Somebody corrupted Carmine so that it'd guide the Sox to make bad decisions! It had to be shut down!"

"Don't you believe me?" I ask. Lucchino laughs: "Of course I believe you, Terry. Who do you think sabotaged Carmine in the first place?"

"Why? Why did you do this?" I ask Lucchino. "The easiest way to get rid of Theo was to make sure he made huge mistakes. And oh boy did he."

FUN FACT: Lackey was an inside job.

"Thank for saving us some money by shutting down Carmine for us though, Terry. I don't have to call in a ticket now." God what an assbutt.

"What if I tell everyone that you're responsible for the organization tanking?" I ask. Lucchino just points to a security camera. "We have footage of you coming in here for the explicit purpose of tampering with our equipment, Terry. I would keep my mouth shut."

Before I can respond, Lucchino smiles an all-too familiar smile. His eyes briefly glow and then he just... blinks out of existence.

I try to get up, but my throbbing knees are shot and I crumble back onto the floor in pain. I fight back tears.

"Terrence?" I look up. It's the Angel That Looks Like Hope Solo. "I would say I'm happy to see you, Hopey, but I'm really just pissed off."

"This isn't FAIR, babe. I thought I was supposed to save the Red Sox. I thought I was doing the right thing. And this is what happens?"

"Doing the right thing is its own reward," the Angel says.

"Bullshit. Doing the right thing gets you a ruined reputation and swollen knees."

The Angel replies: "I told you, after your trials were over, you would meet the Creator and learn the secret of baseball. Take my hand".

I look at the angel's hand, luckily she left her snakes at home. Wherever "home" is. "Does this mean I'm dying?" I ask. "Parody accounts don't really die, Terrence," she says, grabbing my hand. And it's true, I don't so much die as I... I disconnect.

ASOXALYPSE NOW The Epilogue: The Other Side Of This Thing

"Wait? This is the Other Side? It's a baseball diamond!" I say.

"Look ahead," the Angel says. It's all baseball diamonds, stretched endlessly in every direction. "It's... It's beautiful, Hopey."

It's amazingly warm here, wherever this is. My knees have stopped aching and when I reach to touch my forehead I notice something odd.

"HAIR! I have hair again! HOLY FUCK!"

I hear "24 Hour Party People" and I see a concert in the distance. I know where I'm headed.

I spot a sunken-eyed man in a Bears jersey, carrying a duck. "Only things that fucking suck never end: look at laundry, or dishes" he says.

I pass Ted Williams, fully intact, talking with Tony C. He points his bat at me: "There goes the greatest manager in Red Sox history".

Happy Mondays themselves are playing in a outfield larger than PETCO's. Everyone is dancing, including Bez who is dressed as Max Patkin.

"God's Cop" ends and the crowd quickly disperses. The last person left is a skinny androgynous young man with long hair and glasses.

"Hi Tito," the man says, "I'm @HunterFelt. I'm your writer".

I look at him, puzzled. "I was sorta expecting somebody that I knew," I say. "Yeah I'm used to disappointing people," Hunter says.

"So, why am I here?" I ask. "I wanted to write something funny about sports," Hunter says, "and I was sad when @MayorEmanuel ended".

"I'm the biggest Terry Francona fan," Hunter says, "someone was going to a Francona parody account, and I thought I was the most qualified"

Hunter continues: "Then I got wrapped up in it. I was entertaining people, making people laugh. It was the most fun I've had in my life".

"The turning point, Tito, happened this summer. I've been unemployed for a bit, and I was turning 30, and then my grandma passed away."

"I've been living off of inherited money and wanted to honor her memory. I figured grandma would want me to do what I loved."

"Grandma was brought up on the circus, I'm not making this up for once, and she taught me how awesome it is to make me people laugh."

"Well," I say to Hunter, "why does this have to end? More to the point: Why do I have to end?" "I ask that a lot myself," Hunter says.

"What now?" I ask. "I go back to tweeting as @HunterFelt, Tito. Rejoin the real world. It'll take a bit to remember that I'm not you."

"No," I yell, "What happens to ME, you self-absorbed twatwaffle? Do I disappear? Am I gone for good?" Hunter shrugs. "We'll see."

Hunter starts to walk away. "Wait, the Angel promised you'd show me the Secret!" Hunter sighs. "You're right Tito."

"Just so I don't disappoint you again: You already know The Secret of baseball, heard it a thousand times, and I didn't write it."

With that, the Angel That Looks Like Hope Solo takes me in her arms, and shoots up into the sky like a rocket.

Shadows overtake the green patches below, sparing only the basepaths which start to glow and twinkle.

The glowing basepaths rearrange themselves to form letters as if the Secret were...

Of COURSE the Secret is "written in the stars". Of COURSE it is.

And Hunter's right. He didn't write the Secret of baseball. Bart Giamatti did:

It breaks your heart
It's designed to break your heart...
You count on it
rely on it to buffer the passage of time
to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive
And then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.
- Bart Giamatti, "The Green Fields Of The Mind"

(Peace out, Twitter. Shoot out the lights.)