Reliever

I wish I had a bullpen for my life.

It would be extremely cool if, when I find myself out of energy or ideas, that the lifestyle equivalent of a flame-throwing youngster could step in and finish things up for me.

So, for instance, on those last few miles of my ride home, when the hills are getting especially steep, some kid with fresh legs would pedal up the slope while I retired early to the showers.

Or, in my teaching, for those times I’ve only an hour’s worth of material for two hour’s worth of class, some bright-eyed enthusiast could fill in while I retired to my office to read and prepare for another day.

I could have the short reliever, the “closer” to fill in during the final few minutes of meetings when I want to get out and on my way home quickly.

And I could have the long reliever, the “mop up” guy to do all the dishes and vacuum the floor after parties. He’d also be ideal for half-day “strategic planning” meetings, too.

Sandy Koufax used to call the Dodgers closer at the time, Phil Regan, “the vulture,” because Regan would pick up all these wins in short relief that Koufax and others had done the heavy lifting for; I wouldn’t begrudge my relievers their glory, though, especially if they were willing to erase the boards and bring my books and materials back to my office after class.

Of course, it would be a drag if I turned things over to them and it all went to hell; I’d be upset if I had ridden all the way from, say, Bothell, to the U, and my reliever bonked on the bike in Montlake, but I guess that’s the occasional price to pay for comfort.

Ultimately, the benefits would likely outweigh the downside; best of all, I could count on a much better finish to a piece like this that just peters out.