The Ex Files: Former Crew Help Unravel International Conspiracy
By Steve Sirk, Columbus Wired Columnist

I don’t remember exactly what triggered my suspicions that something was horribly peculiar and unsettling about some of the player moves made by the Columbus Crew, but having come to suspect that sinister forces were at play, I began an obsessive quest to find the truth. At first I vowed to leave no stone unturned, but the only truth I discovered from that was that anything with more than six legs is obscenely gross should remain hidden from view.

Anyway, I’m not naïve. I read the papers and watch TV. I know pro sports are a cutthroat business, where the players are mercenaries, the owners are barons, the press are jackals, and the fickle fans alternately extol and eviscerate the players they’ve paid to see.

I knew this. And I knew I knew it. This made my nagging suspicions all the more foreboding. On the surface, one could say Dante Washington wasn’t re-upped due to age, salary or roster composition. One could say Brian Dunseth was traded to Dallas due to salary, tradability, and/or to clear a starting spot for a newly signed central defender. Agree with the deals or not, these are quite plausible explanations, and ones easily bandied about to the press and public. After all, business is business. Players come and players go. But my gut was telling me something sinister was afoot.

I should have dropped it. I should have let it go. But I couldn’t. Sleep became a luxury I could no longer afford. I could concentrate on nothing else but the little voices of nagging suspicion that lingered in my head. And then I finally started to connect some of the dots. Little did I know that when all of the dots were connected, they’d paint a picture of evil. Pure evil.

***

Thursday, August 28th, was the day I made the fateful connection that sent me on my path to imminent peril. I had finally come to the following realization about the Columbus Crew roster, which I hastily scribbled on a nearby piece of scrap paper:

LIST A: People Who Always Made Fun Of Duncan Oughton In Print
- Dante Washington
- Brian Dunseth

LIST B: People Who No Longer Play For The Columbus Crew
- Dante Washington
- Brian Dunseth

LIST C: People Who Still Play For The Columbus Crew
- Duncan Oughton
- A bunch of other people not on List A


Having a eureka moment, I shouted “bingo!” I was pretty sure I was on to something. Duncan Oughton was being protected. That much was clear. I was positive I had the “what.” I just needed the “why.”

***

After Sunday’s match against the Kansas City Wizards, I decided I’d approach Oughton. Sure, I suspected that he’s a dodgy character integral to this plot, but we seem to get on all right, so I thought there was an outside chance he might inadvertently give something away.

In a joking tone of voice, I suggested that maybe Dante & Dunny were shipped out because they made fun of him a lot.

“I think it basically comes down to karma,” said Oughton. “Dunny talked way too much (bleep). At the and of the day, higher up people are reading this stuff and saying that they can’t have a guy putting down teammates like that, even if it’s in good humor. Dante, he also talked a little (bleep), and he got the old kick out too. I’m sorry to see those two guys go, but karma is a rotten thing, isn’t it?”

I tried to build empathy. I suggested he was too nice a guy to endure such ridicule.

“I’m a lovely guy,” he agreed. “I love those two guys and wish they were still here, but I guess they serve as a future warning to anyone else. You shouldn’t talk so much (bleep).”

Cleary I was pushing some buttons. I tried to further align myself with his point of view by suggesting he did nothing to warrant the abuse.

“Maybe I egged it on a little bit,” he allowed, “but not really. I was just trying to do the right thing and be a nice guy, and look what happens, you know?”

“So you’re a victim?” I asked.

“At the end of the day, they were the victims,” he said, his voice suddenly chilling.

“So they were victims of your victimhood, which they themselves created?”

“Exactly. I wish they were both here, but they did kick me a few times…in the ribs…and then hid.”

His words were those of a victim, but his nonverbal cues were those of the cat that ate the canary. I half expected him to burp up yellow feathers.

I knew I was on to something. But I didn’t know where to turn. Fortunately, fate turned to me.

***

It was Monday morning, and I was checking my email. Buried amidst the solicitations for free college degrees, super-low mortgage rates, and herbal appendage enhancers, I saw a peculiar email titled “SIRK!!!!!”

I clicked it open. There was no return address, but the message was as explicit as it was cryptic. “SIRK. yes about out/in. call xxx-xxx-xxxx from secure line. infernogeorge.”

Puzzled, I dialed the number as instructed.

“Who is this?” whispered the voice of Dante Washington.

“It’s Sirk,” I said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Dude, it’s me. Doesn’t it sound like me?”

“They can do anything with technology nowadays,” he admonished. “You’ve seen that they already have the ability to turn Barry Bostwick into Halle Berry in those Pepsi Twist commercials. It’s nothing to alter a voice. I’ve looked something up to test if it’s really you. You must answer instantaneously or I will hang up. Who was Cleveland’s starting shortstop in 1983?”

“Julio Franco hit .273 in his rookie year,” I blurted. “I was in third grade then, and that mofo is STILL playing!”

“So you are Sirk,” he said, relieved. “I heard about you & Duncan last night. Word travels fast when you’re caught up in all the wrong circles. Once you’re in, you’re in, and I’m afraid you already know too much.”

“Wha-“

“Just shut up and listen. I am going to give you some background that you will undoubtedly find useful. The most recent statements from Mr. Oughton really seem to make sense. Why would someone expect him to think of himself as anything but a victim? He never did anything to warrant such treatment, now did he? I can understand why he would be so defensive. If I were from New Zealand and had to live under the wings of Australia, I would feel like a victim too. Australia, one of the present superpowers in the world, exerts so much influence on tiny, poor little New Zealand. I read recently that since New Zealand beat Australia to win the Oceana Cup, Australia has done a number of things to punish the Kiwis, including limiting the amount of ‘herding’ time that each shepherd may spend with his flock, as well as reducing New Zealand’s colonial allowance from $4 million/month US to $40/month US. The latter should definitely cut into their expenditures for the maintenance of their sheep. I find it very ironic that a country known for its sheep doesn't have a dog named as such. Why is their not a New Zealand Shepherd, but there is an Australian Shepherd?”

I wasn’t sure what was going on, or why this was important, but I was taking in every word.

“We also fail to remember that as a part of the Kiwi fight for independence, there were many war atrocities committed. I know we haven't forgotten about the great civil war between the two countries. In fact, the tearing down of the Berlin Wall pales in comparison to The Great Snip of the fishing line that connected New Zealand to Australia. It's amazing how they were able to fend for themselves and be weaned off the Aussie teat so easily. We all forget that had it not been for New Zealand’s iron will, there very well could have been a third world war. It is widely known that Jimmy Carter made numerous trips to New Zealand and was in full support of their government. But the war crimes atrocities are very evident in Duncan himself. It only takes one look at his legs to realize that he was forced to walk on his ankles for miles on end. And he obviously spent lengthy periods of time being suspended in the air by his nose.”

I didn’t know how to interrupt, so I just let him continue on.

“It's just a wonder that he's able to compete at such a high....at such a level on the soccer field and is even considered by many young girls to be quite a cutie. Of course, it's a shame that these young girls are only now allowed out of their houses. Their houses have no electricity nor any of the finer things we have all come to take for granted. I love how Duncan allows them to ride in his station wagon instead of their horse-and-buggies. Those Duncan-lovin’ young girls sure do make good furniture and all-natural food though.”

“Dante, what is the point to all of this????”, I shouted.

“Chill,” he admonished. “I can only speak for myself, but I totally understand and recognize who the victim is here. It’s poor, poor Duncan. It’s enough to make a man….it’s enough….”

“What? What is it?”

“It’s enough to make a guy do some awful things,” he said.

“Like what?”

“I’ve already said too much,” he declared. “But I thought this might be useful to you in sketching a mental framework that will aid you in the search for the answers that you seek.”

“Tell me more, Dr. Lecter.”

“Haha. Joke all you want.”

“Dude, seriously, just tell me what the (bleep) is going on.”

“Listen, Sirk. We’ve had some fun in the past, but the time for joking around is over. I can’t say anything else. I have the playoffs to think about and I can’t let my teammates down. That’s why I can reveal no more than what I’ve already told you. It would be very bad for the Mariners if I went out for a jog one morning and never came back.”

“Then can you at least point me in the right direction?”

“Sure. Talk to someone who, unlike me, doesn’t have to worry about the playoffs.”

***

“Oh (bleep), it’s Sirk! I thought you’d forgotten about me already, you (bleep),” said Brian Dunseth. “You called at just the right time too! I’m at the mall checkin’ out the hot women in Dallas. The chicks down here are (bleepin’) HOT! Like this one walking by right now, she’s wearing –“

“Dunny, you fool!” I bellowed. “I don’t have time for this crap right now!”

“I thought maybe I’d describe the ten hottest girls I’ve seen today, and you could do an article about it,” he said.

“Maybe some other time, but I’d need pictures. Good ones too. Anyway, we need to talk. I just spoke to Dante.”

“Awesome. How’s D-te doing?”

“We talked about Duncan. He gave me a New Zealand history lesson and said I might find it useful. He suggested that I talk to you.”

“(Bleep),” he muttered. “You’re in now too?”

“I’m afraid so,” I said.

“Okay, we’ll talk, but first let me get out of here. I’ll call you back from my car. I can’t talk about this stuff in public. Besides, driving’s boring and I could use the distraction.”

***

My phone rang a few minutes later. It was Dunny.

“So did Dante tell you all about The Great Snip and the war crimes?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, the Great Snip was a significant factor in shaping who would eventually become known as ‘The Beaker.’ I just don't think that anyone would have realized the significance of it at the time. As for my own theories, I must thank a certain someone who cannot be named because of necessary future professional situations, but this someone has brought something to my attention…”

“Is it serious?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s deadly serious, “said Dunny. “The old, decrepit undercover New Zealand terrorist group AL KIWI, a remnant from the Great Snip era, has been infiltrated by a double agent who is helping the US government in opening up America’s eyes to the dangers of vegemite. Not only is vegemite a disgusting, salty, so-called New Zealand ‘spread’, it also works as a catalyst for warping young American minds into not only accepting everything Kiwi, but forcing us against our will to actually enjoy, if not love these second rate Australians.”

“So it’s Duncan?” I asked. “And he’s helping the US government?”

“Yes, it’s Duncan,” he confirmed. “But unbeknownst to the American government, this wannabe Aussie is actually a double-DOUBLE agent, who is still trying to corrupt the minds of these impressionable young people. I mean, who else thinks a white ford escort wagon with a spider web windshield is hot?? I won't even mention anything about his water pump, which was still thirsty after seven water bottles.”

“Huh?”

”Nevermind. Now, back to the protection plan that the shadow government has implemented. Due to Mr. Washington and myself getting a little too close to the truth, we were shipped out to Virginia Beach and Dallas, respectively. We now cannot walk down the street, go to practice, or even to therapy without an eerie feeling of what we know from the movies as being tailed. Trust us, it's not a fun feeling knowing everything you say or write is being looked over and that your trash is being sorted through.

”This protection plan also explains to many why we were sent away and Duncan is still wearing his famous, due to massive vegemite consumption, #8 Crew jersey. And I won't even discuss how this plan gets him on the field. His famous nose has accumulated many ‘fans’ who have been brainwashed so badly that they make signs showing how much they adore him. It's disgusting isn't it? Trust me. I know. It makes me sick too.”

“I believe you Dunny,” I said. “You’ve never lied to me. But I can’t print this. Nobody will believe it. People will assume you’re just bitter about be shipped off to some blazing hot hellhole where the playing field is busier than the t-shirt designs at old Grateful Dead concerts.”


“I know there will be skeptics,” he said with a sigh. “Some may attribute jealousy on our parts to these conclusions. I know it’s easy to look at it that way, but instead I ask the people to look for the truth. I’ll ask just one question: WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN IN THE LEAGUE FOR THREE YEARS, LIVED IN THE US FOR SEVEN YEARS AND EVEN DATES A BEAUTIFUL SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA GIRL TO GET A GREEN CARD????????????????? Hmmmm.... he even has international experience, if you choose to recognize New Zealand as legitimate country, so what's the problem here?”

“Oh my God,” I stammered. “You’re right. The public must know!”

”Sirk, I must issue a warning,” he said, gravely. “If you choose to see the truth, as we have laid out for you, be aware of the consequences. Some of us have been sent away or traded….and some just plain disappear. We're still not sure what happened to Pelusa or Ansil. They were trying to get something across to us, but because of the language barrier, with Pelusa speaking Spanish and Ansil speaking something other than English, we could not understand them. Also, let's not forget about Oscar Pisano. I will be having lunch with him tomorrow to put some more of the pieces together.”

“I’m not afraid, Dunny!,” I said. “The truth must be told!”

“You should be afraid,” he warned. “Odds are TheCrew.com will some day post a press release about your bullet-riddled corpse being scraped off the bottom of the Olentangy River.”

I said nothing.

“Hopefully CSI will notice the boomerang lacerations on your throat,” he said, trying to look on the bright side. “Good luck. Hopefully you can pull the shades off so everyone can see what's really happening here. The truth is too strong to ignore. Fight! Pull together! You all shall see! Ban vegemite! Go back to peanut butter! Don’t live the AL KIWI dream! Live the AMERICAN dream!”

Just then, the line went dead. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Dunny for nearly 48 hours. I’m almost afraid to get the Burn’s weekly press release, for fear the injury report may say “Brian Dunseth-- out (political assassination.)”

But as a dedicated investigative journalist, I shall not be restrained by fear. Although I sometimes have nightmares about the chilling “pit-tew” of the assassin’s blowgun, and although it is inevitable that I will feel the sting of that poison-tipped dart, the story must be told. Dunny shall not have died in vain! I shall use the power of the PC to expose the vegemite menace! To all the members of Al Kiwi, I'll see you in the fiery furnace of hell!


For the free world to be saved, and for peace and prosperity to reign, someone has to uncover the sordid geopolitical underpinnings of certain Crew roster moves so that this international conspiracy will finally unravel. If I pay the ultimate price, so be it. I regret that I have but one life to give for my country. Go Crew.

Questions? Comments? Wondering why the US Government has devoted so little attention to condiments of mass destruction? Feel free to write at sirk@columbuswired.net