“You’ll have to accept, and sign a contract to manage the team.”
Lefty gasped. “But,” he said, “I can’t do that! You–”
“I’m out. He wouldn’t have me, even if I’d do the work for no salary.”
“But I can’t agree to Weegman’s terms. I couldn’t do anything of my own accord; I couldn’t sign a player unless he agreed. He made that plain.”
“But he wouldn’t dare put anything like that in the contract. It would be too barefaced. The minute you have the authority you can get to work savin’ the remnants of the team by signin’ up the players the Feds haven’t grabbed already. I have a line on a few good youngsters who went back to the minors last year because there wasn’t room for them. Put proof of Weegman’s treachery before Collier, and Weegman’s done for! It’s the one play that’s got to be made in this here pinch.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” called Kennedy.
Bailey Weegman entered, smiling.