'Nobody Here Knows Anything'

The phone rings.

"New York Mets, may I help you?" asks the receptionist.

I explain that I am looking for confirmation of a published report that the Mets will be sold early next week, possibly as soon as Sunday, when a board meeting will be held.

"Nobody here knows anything," replies the receptionist, innocently. "Wait, let me connect you..."

"Yeah?" says a gruff voice.

"Yes, with whom am I speaking?" I ask.

"What do you want?" he answers.

I explain my search.

"Sunday?" he chortles. That's Super Sunday--you don't expect them to have a board meeting on Super Sunday, do you?"

"But," I protested," Dick Young in the New York Daily News..."

"Listen," the unnamed source interrupted confidentially, verbally putting his arm around my shoulder, "I worked for the New York Daily Mirror for thirty years,...and I still laugh at the newspapers."

"What did you say your name was?" I asked the old warrior.

"Ochs. O-C-H-S. Charlie Ochs."

"Well, do you know where I can..."

"No, we don't know anything." Click.

Let's go to the top, I muse, What about M. Donald Grant, minority stockholder, board member and former general manager--he would know.

"I have nothing to do with it," replies Mr. Grant. "Call Robert Riggs."

Mr. Riggs, who is "handling the legal matters of the sale," is located after a long day.

"Yeah, they're for sale, but we're not talking about the details," Riggs reveals.

"Is there a meeting Sunday?" I inquire.

"Well, no."

And what about Dick Young's article?

"We just don't want to get into details of this thing," Riggs begins, and I mumble my good-byes.

Next I try Bob Abplanalp, the man who supposedly is the top contender to buy the team. I ring a Yonkers, N.Y., exchange.

"Precision Valve Company, good afternoon," says a pleasant voice.

"Bob Abplanalp, please."

"He's not in--I'll give you Leo Murray."

Leo Murray arrives. Who is Leo Murray?

"No, I don't know anything about a board meeting Sunday," he says, "but I do feel that the story will break within a week." Obviously another ex-newspaperman.

"What's taking so long?"

"Well, if you were buying a house, you'd check out the oil burner, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"All the offers are in and have been in, it'll be over pretty soon."

I decide to check this out with my new-found buddy, Charlie Ochs.

"New York Mets, may I help you?"

"Charlie Ochs, please?"

"Who?"

"Charlie Ochs--O-C-H-S?"

"I'm sorry, he doesn't exist. There's nobody here by that name."

"But that's impossible," I reply, "I talked with him an hour ago."

"Oh you did? Well...(a pause) I'll connect you."

I hear the now-familiar voice:

"Yeah?"

"Mr. Ochs, I spoke to you before about the sale of the club..."

"I told you, don't believe what you read."

An idea strikes me.

"What is your title?" I ask.

"Well, uh..." he is obviously on the ropes. "Let's just say I work in the office."

"May I talk to Joe McDonald (Mets General Manager)?"

"Mr. McDonald is not in."

"Where can he be reached?"

"He's out. He's on the street somewhere."

"And Ms. DeRoulet (Mets Owner)?"

"She's out--she might be on the street too."

One final try. "Can you give me any information on..."

"Listen,"--the same confidential tone--"nobody here knows anything."