Two Minute Drill (Bases Loaded Jam Series #2)

Ch. 4: Scout (Scout)

The Colts' quarterback takes a snap and then kneels in a victory formation. The clock strikes zero. The final play of the season has just happened. Thank God for that. But I now know what's to come. There would be a chorus and it wouldn't be pretty.

Judging by the final score of the game (38-21), you would be doing the same thing if your team had just won fewer than five games for the second season in a row. The crowd booed the players off the field. They booed the coach off the field. I sat there and I watched with disappointment. This was clearly a terrible and horrible season. That's life for a Texans' fan these days.

Excuse the injuries and excuse the fact that some of our games have been closer than our record indicated. But the truth was our team suffered a bad season because we just flat out weren't good enough. The quarterback controversy that had plagued us all season long blew up in our faces. The defense gave up more yards and points than anyone. Our receiving players could hardly catch anything, and the running game was a total mess. With all this in mind, things needed to change.

And they would change. I get a text from my boss Brett Mills. My heart beats as soon as I get the text for a few reasons. Number one, any text from Brett is urgent. Whatever my boss wants goes.

Meeting in the owner's box. NOW!

I knew instantly what that meant. This was to be a meeting to let us know now was the time to do what we were hired to do. Brett and I had been brought in to help build the Houston Texans from the league's laughingstock into champions. But so far, our process wasn't being met. In our defense, it was only our first year together.

When we first arrived to Houston, we instantly realized that the talent level wasn't there and that we would need to weed out the players from the previous administration and rebuild the new talent to potentially reach our goals. To say we were being watched would be an understatement. We were dealing with paparazzi minus the cameras everywhere we went. Everyone that saw us had the look of intimidation and bewilderment.

Which brings me to the second and perhaps the most important reason why a text from Brett Mills was important. I rushed to the owner's box right away and there at the door was my boss, who was wearing a black business suit with a blue buttoned-down shirt. Brett was on the phone talking with some important people about an upcoming meeting regarding a charity event. As soon as Brett saw me, my heart burst and she had the biggest smile on her face.

"Scout," she said.

"General Manager," I replied.

You read that right. Brett Mills, my boss, was the general manager of the Houston Texans. The first female general manager for the franchise. Blonde-hair, aged 32, about 6'3, she was the perfect example of what a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model would look like. However, the odds of seeing her in a bathing suit were the same as me going on a date with one of our NFL cheerleaders. Not likely to happen.

For starters, my name is Scout Ranger. Really, it was Scott Rangel at my birth date. But, my kid brother and sister had trouble saying that and instead came up with Scout Ranger. I would assume they were talking about the park ranger from the Yogi Bear cartoons growing up and they assumed I was Scout Ranger.

For another, I was a pretty decent-looking guy. Not exactly a smoking hot man with muscles. I was two inches shorter than Brett, a little over 210 pounds. But I wasn't exactly a ladies' man myself. Even so, I still wonder why Brett took a liking to me. If it hadn't been for the business management class we took at the University of Northwestern, we wouldn't be in this mess. What started off as partners for a project had turned into a partnership for life.

Both of us worked as interns for the Chicago Bears during one season and we made an impression on the Bears' organization so much that the owner of the team said we would both be successful general managers in the sports world. Now, when that was said to me, I already had begun to think of my plans to be a general manager of the team of my choosing, which I would leave up in the air.