July 2011. Dayton Moore lay awake, despondent and confused about the team's future. Oh, he thought everything had been golden...
...but in between paying for Alex Gordon's daily bat supply, a strange increase in pork products he thought he had narrowed to Billy Butler, and bailing Jeff Francoeur out of jail after his indecent exposure charge at an Overland Park batting cage, costs were piling up, as were the losses - that night's game made seven in a row.
Dayton glanced at the clock. 1:42 AM. He did the first thing he could think of - called David Glass.
"Dayton? What the hell are you calling for at this time?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Glass, but I can't sleep... what's really important? What really matters?"
"Why, Wal-Mart, of course. I need to sleep. Can this wait until the morning?"
Dayton sighed, got dressed, and decided a walk around Wal-Mart might help him figure out what to do. He walked into the entranceway, where trinket toy machines, missing kids' posters, carts, and Coke machines sat. He fumbled through his pocket and found change for a Coke - a reminder of Atlanta, where everything was right and good. He then walked into the store and existentially considered questions such as "When I promised Melky the starting job, did it mean at first or forever and would it be a sin to move him?" and "Should I look into these rumors that the stadium plays a song promoting binge drinking?"
He was also concerned about what he had heard about the music that some of the players were warming up or walking out to. Especially that heavy metal song Blake Wood by a band called Slayer or something - a song called "Raining Mud" or "Rany's Blood" or something. Maybe he would take a listen to the CD and determine whether such music was consistent with the type of team he wanted to put together. After all, Wal-Mart did sell edited CDs.
Dayton looked through the S's. He picked up what he thought was Slayer, but was actually a mislabeled Led Zeppelin CD. A sticker on the front read "Features "Kashmir". Dayton opened his eyes. He had found the key. The missing link in the chain.
And the rest, as they say, is history.