The clothes were Mike's idea. Pete said that the new Shane London jerseys (Red Sox version) were selling like hotcakes, and Goldie said that shouldn't surprise anyone. "All the Shane merchandise in town sold out within twenty-four hours of his going to Boston."

"You can't buy a Champs jersey with Shane's name on it," said Pete.

"It's a collector's item," said Goldie.

We were on our way back from the airport. We— Pete and Goldie and I— were talking among ourselves, and I didn't think Mike was paying any attention to us. He was talking about his daughter to Renee, telling her that Amber looked up to her.

"I don't know if you realize it, Renee, but you're a role model now. Did you know that?"

Role model? How does he come up with this stuff? That's what I was thinking. I would never think of anything like that. Renee was very intent, listening to my son.

That's when he suddenly stopped short and said "Designer fashions!" Just like that. He turned around to face us. "That's what we need next."

"What?" asked Pete.

"For Renee," said Mike.

"A special vending outfit?"

"A designer vending outfit," he said.

"What do you know about designer clothes?" I asked.

"As much as I know," said Goldie. "Zero."

"Ahhh," said Mike. He turned to me. "How about it?" he asked. "Project?"

"Project," I said. Nothing that my son dreamed up surprised me any more. He turned around and resumed talking to Renee about what it took to be a role model.

When Renee started work that night, she was greeted by a big cartoon graphic on the center field scoreboard: WELCOME BACK, RENEE!

Two ushers accompanied her at all times, and kept the curious at a distance. In addition she was trailed by two brawny security men ready to manhandle any fan dumb enough to throw anything at her. Her return was a success.

Mike stopped by my skybox late in the game just after Pete and Goldie had left. He was very happy that Shane was winning his game in Milwaukee that night. "He's a cinch for Player of the Month," said Mike. "That's good for us."

"All it does is remind everyone of the trade."

"That's what we want."

"It's only August 30th, and he's winning his fifteenth game tonight," I said. "He can still make it to twenty." I did not want him to win twenty.

"Ohhhhh!" he said. "Shane, baby! If you can just pitch the Sox into the playoffs!"

"That's what everyone wants," I said. "Everyone except me."

"You want it as much as the rest of us," said Mike. "Admit it."

"No," I said. "Every time Shane wins, it's an excuse to trash me."

"Well yeah," he said. "There is that element to it. But what can you expect? You traded a Cy Young award winner for a peanut vendor!"

"Which makes me an idiot," I said. "A buffoon who's making a mockery of the game."

"But you got away with it!" he said, "You pulled it off!"

"If Shane knocks us out of the playoffs, I'll probably get run out of town."

He nodded. "It could happen." Another nod. "But right now we've got the happiest fans in baseball."

"Fans are always happy when you win," I said. "They won't be so happy if we stop winning."

"It won't affect us," he said. "Sell-out crowds for the rest of the season."

"They act happy," I said. "But they'll turn on us if we blow the playoffs."

"That's the chance you took, Dad. That's what was so gutsy."

"Gutsy?" I asked. "I don't know about that."

"And I was dead against it! Thought you'd lost your marbles! Cooking up this deal just to get back at Shane. Humiliate him."

"That's why I did it," I said. "I didn't think about Renee at all. I just wanted to get back at the Big Infant."

"And what a great way to do it! I still can't get over it!"

But it wasn't my idea. It came from a fat man in a golf cart.

"You would have done the same thing," I said.

"Oh no," he said. "I'm too conservative."

"You're too conservative? The guy who dropped my hot dog prices?"

"If you listen to baseball men it makes you afraid to take chances— that's what I learned from all this. You did it your way and you did it on your own."

"I'm glad you like it," I said. I should have mentioned the zoo then, but I told him that he was ten steps ahead of me. "Designer clothes. Role Model. Those aren't ideas that come natural to me."

"That's the easy part," he said. "You did the hard part. I just fill in the blanks."

Central City is supposed to have a good zoo— not that I've ever been there— but that's something a grandpa does, right?

"I connect the dots," he said.

He takes his grandchildren to the zoo. That's what I should have said.

"Identify all our options," he said.

He thinks I'm gutsy? His father?

"Exploit this to the max!" he said. "That's what we've got to keep on doing."

I was on the receiving end of my son's admiration, and it was the high point of the season for me.