Chapter 3
BECCA
I was sitting in the conference room sipping my iced coffee when Joe strolled in five minutes late, phone pressed to his ear, and his voice booming loud enough for the entire floor to hear him.
“Yeah, yeah, tell Benny to make the earlier tee time.” He grinned and gave me a wink while finishing his call. “I’m not sweating through another eighty-degree mid-afternoon round.” He laughed. “Talk later.”
Typical Joe, always making plans in the middle of a workday. Maybe that was why he was always late to meetings. His golf game came before anything else, including deadlines.
“Hey, Joe,” I said, flipping through my notes, not bothering to look up.
“Hey, kid.” He perched himself on the edge of the desk and took a hefty sip of his coffee. “That was quite a performance yesterday.”
I clicked my pen, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “I only asked him a few questions.”
“You did more than ask a few questions, tiger.” He pulled on his tie and stared down at me. “One thing to keep in mind for the next presser is you’re there to build trust and make them comfortable. Not barge in there acting like some tough prosecutor with an ax to grind.”
Sometimes it felt like he was trying to push me out of here, when other times he made it seem like he was looking out for me.
Never mind the fact that we had the same workload, job title, and expectations. He might have been covering the league longer than me, but he wasn’t my boss, and I think it was past time I pointed that out to him.
“My job isn’t to make them feel comfortable.”
He shook his head. “You gotta ease up next time. Don’t push too hard. Maybe smile more.”
Before I could reply, the door swung open.
“Good morning.” Our boss, Daphene, smiled as she breezed into the conference room, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other. She pushed her blond bangs off her forehead and flopped down in her chair. Her eyes glanced between us. “Am I interrupting something?”
Joe sat up in his seat. “Just giving the kid a few pointers.”
She pulled on the sleeves of her black blazer. “About the press conference yesterday?”
“Yes,” I said, setting my bag on the floor next to my feet.
She nodded. “It was a great press conference. I watched it twice.”
Joe smiled. “Thanks, Daphene, I…”
She held her hand up, stopping him. “I was talking to Becca.”
My pen paused. “Me?”
Daphene smiled. “You pressed Nate Slader harder than anyone else in the room. You didn’t back down once. It was the first time I’d ever seen the man show any type of reaction.”
Joe chuckled. “I’m not so sure that was the type of reaction you were hoping for.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Everyone else tiptoed around him except Becca. She was tough and firm without crossing a line. That’s exactly the type of interviewing I want.”
Joe leaned back in his chair, muttering something under his breath. “With all due respect, there’s good interviewing and reckless interviewing.”
“I am aware of the difference.” She shot him a sharp look. “Becca stood out and asked the questions that everyone was afraid to.”
Joe frowned. “I was building a rapport.”
“I’m sure you were.” She leaned back in the chair, crossing one foot over the other.
“And that’s why I decided to shift direction.
I was reviewing the comment section on X and our website.
It’s abundantly clear that the fans want more insight into the players and less soft statistical game recap.
They can get numbers anywhere. They are emotionally invested in the team, and they want to understand more of the human side of these players. ”
Joe tapped his fingers on the table. “Daphene, this is football, baby, not an interest blog. The fans want stats and highlights. They couldn’t care less if he eats cereal or bagels for breakfast. They want to keep track of touchdowns and passes this season, not if he’s rescuing puppies from the SPCA. ”
Daphene opened a folder and handed each of us a piece of paper. “That’s where you are wrong. The fans don’t just want to be impressed by his performance. They want to know who he is as a person when he’s not throwing a ball accurately. They want to feel invested in him, not just an NFL brand.”
Joe sat up straighter, not liking where this conversation was headed. “His personal hobbies have nothing to do with his ability to win a championship. The true fans care only about winning. They get annoyed when you add too much fluff.”
I leaned forward, meeting his eyes. “I disagree with you on that one. The industry is changing thanks to the surge in popularity with the millennials, Gen Z, and women in particular. They don’t want us to just report numbers.
They want a connection. They want to root for someone they can trust and believe in. ”
He shook his head. “You are underestimating the traditional man fan base.”
I opened my mouth to tell him how wrong he was, but Daphene beat me to it. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Becca has a point, Joe, and I think she’s on to something here. That’s why I think we should change up our coverage a bit.”
His jaw tightened. “What kind of change?”
“How about this? Why don’t you focus on stats and analysis that ‘all the men’ care about, and Becca can be the one to show the fans who the players are off the field?”
This wasn’t exactly where I had pictured my career going when I was already trying twice as hard to be taken seriously.
But complaining about it would only make me sound difficult, so I kept my mouth shut.
While I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it, I knew Daphene was trying to help me grow, so I had faith that she knew what she was doing.
He leaned back, crossing his arms as if that were the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “You want her to write a personal puff piece?”
She turned to Joe with a raised eyebrow.
“No, Joe. I want substantive reporting with a more personal approach. You know, like what motivates players like Nate Sandler, what keeps him up at night. This team is under a lot of pressure this season, and the public is invested in how things play out, and I’m not just talking about when he’s suited up on game day. ”
Joe laughed while wiping a finger along his white mustache. “You want her to get close to Nate Sandler? Good luck with that. The guy hates the press, and I’m pretty sure Becca isn’t his favorite person at the moment.”
It was a well-known fact that Nate Sandler limited his sit-down interviews. He declined almost every invitation, and if he did agree, it was on his terms, and he didn’t share squat.
She leaned forward. “Are you challenging me, Joe?”
He opened his mouth and closed it. Daphene hit a nerve, and it almost pulled a smile out of me.
He exhaled through his nose, making it known that this bothered him.
“Of course not, and I don’t mean to overstep here, but these types of interviews take time and finesse. One wrong question and you’re done. I’ve spent years building relationships with these players. I could reach out to him and invite him for a beer.”
“Joe,” Daphene said sternly. “You have been covering the team for decades, and in all that time, you have never gotten anything substantial out of him. I think I’ll take my chances.”
“She’s relatively young,” he added. “Nate Sandler isn’t just a random player. He is the face of the franchise. Writing a piece like this takes experience. I don’t think this is a smart move.”
Of course he didn’t. Joe thought he knew everything.
Daphene stared him down. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Your call, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He really believed that this was the wrong decision. I was surprised that he was letting it go.
“I understand why you’re not happy about this, but you’re going to have your hands full with the stats breakdown.” Her tone was softer now. “Becca is covering things from a different angle. You stay in your lane, and she stays in hers, and that’s final.”
He exhaled slowly. “I’m not trying to be a grump. Nate Sandler’s personal life is a closed book. I’m afraid the article won’t live up to your expectations and will be a big waste of time.”
What a prick. It was taking everything in me to hold back on the tongue-lashing I wanted to give him.
She crossed her arms. “If it blows up, that’s on me, but I’m confident that she can handle it.”
That shut him up.
Daphene handed me a folder. “We move forward today. Reach out to his PR team this afternoon and see if you can schedule a one-on-one.”
I blinked. “When do you want this completed by?”
“I’d like the first draft on my desk by next month, before they get too deep into the season.”
Fuck. One month to gain access to one of the most popular players in the league. Who gets sheltered by the press and hates interviews. Not to mention, after yesterday, I wasn’t sure if he would even take my calls.
I nodded, trying to hide the doubt spinning in my head. “Got it.”
Did I want to do this? No, I’ve had enough experience in the sports world to know that athletes drew a fine line when it came to their personal lives.
But what was the alternative? Prove Joe right?
Even I had to admit there was some truth to his words.
But I would never, ever in a million years tell him that.
I would prove him wrong. Somehow. Someway.
I would make it my mission to make him eat his words.
I had my earbuds in, my laptop open in front of me, and a dozen tabs pulled up. I was scrolling through the articles, my cursor hovering over one particular image.
I told myself this was just research. That’s why I was studying his body language, analyzing his facial expressions, and cataloging every little detail to my memory.
Nate was standing in a hospital hallway with his sister, Callie. They were playing catch with a little boy wearing a cochlear implant. It was a known fact that his sister was hearing impaired. Nate was known to be very generous with his time and money to the National Association of the Deaf.