Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it down and apologized.
"Now I'm the last man to blow the whistle on another man's act," Bacon went on. "But we were in the fire last Sunday and if Jake hadn't cut the heart of the plate from left field, they'd still be running the bases. What we need is organization and direction. The show's got to be handled like a military operation, and Sachs isn't the man to set up the cadre."
"It isn't a question of talent," Borden said tactfully. "Nobody's attacking Sachs on the genius level. But Ned feels the show needs a man more experienced in—"
Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it down and apologized.
"More experienced in the aspects of handling talent rather than providing talent," he went on. He charmed Bacon with a tactful smile. "Editor's note: This in no way implies that you can't or won't provide talent when required."
Bacon swaggered up to Grabinett and stood over him. "Here it is, wrapped for delivery. Sachs had his turn at bat. He couldn't get on base. Now it's time for the clutch hitter to come up. Are you with me or are you going to throw the game?"
Grabinett squirmed in his chair. "God damn it! This is my Almighty show. I'm satisfied with Sachs."
"Your show?" Bacon laughed. "I'll read the fine print for you. Jake and I worked this up together. It was a smart panel show with demonstrated questions that had sell. You had Tom Bleutcher in your pocket and no show for him. Of all the crap Bleutcher saw, he liked our package best. But the network wouldn't sell the time unless they could put Mason to work in a musical. So we all joined the team and pooled the bats and gloves. Bleutcher let you shove a variety show down his throat. You let the network hang Mason onto your budget. And we let you chisel fifty percent of the package out of us. But what the hell did you contribute, talentwise, that makes you the Captain?"
"I'm satisfied with Sachs!" Grabinett shouted.
"The rest of us aren't, so Sachs goes."