In the hot air of the Remas city centre, coach Asteflix poured himself a large glass of orange juice. Sighing at the prospect of having to wait a few years, looking longingly at his favourite bottle of rum, he recalled what had happened that day.

Michael Floyd, ''Snowflake'' as he liked to be called, had died.

His body had been carried back to Middenheim for a proper burial with his people, and with no male children, it would be a long time until we saw another.

The coach fondly remember his stunt as the General Manager of the Wolfskins, and his unsuccessful bid to obtain Floyd for his past franchise. In a twist of fate, it would be the team he helped draft that put an end to the amazing catcher, the ''one he could not obtain.'' As Dante Hightower recalls it, the first reaction the coach had was ''Are you f*cking kidding me, that can't happen.'' And when the apothecary finally shook his head in shame, a huge reaction of non-belief exploded in the locker room. Everyone, from the newly minted Stefan to the old Dante to the new Hoffman, was sad that day.

RIP Michael Floyd, shame you couldn't die in my arms.