I returned to the office on the day after the All Star game, and jumped back into the business of running a baseball team.

We had a four-game set with the White Sox starting on Thursday night, and the newspapers were hyping it as a "make-or-break" series for us. We had to snap our three-game losing streak. The Indians were on a rampage and closing fast.

The pressure was on, and all of us felt a little testy. At the close of Learn to Listen class, I had told everyone to listen to the fans, and they had done so. Some of them now expressed misgivings about the policy. Our customers had complaints. We charged too much for everything. Hot dogs were at the top of the list.

What should we do about it? That's what I asked my people.

If hot dogs are the major complaint then we should lower the price of hot dogs. That was what most people thought. Knock a quarter off the price, and then tell them what we've done, tell them that we listen to our fans.

Dick Reynolds pushed the concept further, suggesting a promotional theme based on the word "empowerment." Let the fans know we're empowering them. We could put suggestion boxes around the park. He envisioned a new slogan:

                                    YOU TALKED . . . .

                                                                        . . . . WE LISTENED

Late in the afternoon I checked in with Mike to ask him how his "project" was going. He gave me one of his maddening "okays." I tried to follow up, tried to press him for details, and he said only that "everything is proceeding on schedule."

Did this mean Skip had talked to Trust Me yet? Maybe it did, but if I persisted in questioning him he might take it as meddling or prying or showing a lack of confidence in him. I changed the subject.

"Some people think we've opened up a can of worms with this whole listening thing," I said.

"Millie's one of them," he said. "It upsets her when they complain."

"She's very nice," I said. "She's sympathetic and courteous, and she relates to the fans."

"You started it, Dad," he said. "If you tell people to listen to the fans, you'd better be ready to do something about it."

"You're right," I said. "But what the fans want is something for nothing."

"That should come as no surprise."

"What do you think I should do?"

"Let me think about it," he said. "Give me a day or two."

"Dick Reynolds wants us to empower the fans," I said. I explained Dick's slogan, his idea of suggestion boxes. I described it in a way that revealed my skepticism.

"You have to understand this about Dick Reynolds," said Mike. "We're a first place team and we're averaging 21,000 fans a game."

"Is he worried about his job?"

"Well, what do you think? We're down from last year's 24,000, and way off our target."

"I'm disappointed," I said. "But I'm hardly blaming him for it. Not yet anyway."

"A team like ours should be drawing thirty," said Mike.

"Thirty easy," I said.

"Easy," he said.