Chapter 2
TWO
hawk
After leaving the meeting, I heard comments and complaints about my style, though most focused on the changes to the bonus structure. This unsurprising development, however, promised significant long-term cultural change.
My thoughts kept going back to Kendra Colette. While she had quietly explained her reasons for wanting to improve player culture, something kept telling me there was more to it. These were the stories that I wanted to know; understanding people was the key to improving the culture.
Before I took over for my grandfather two months ago, I might have approached her for more than a business proposal. Those eyes, pale blue, rimmed almost with navy blue, and while they should have been soft, she commanded more strength than expected.
Instead of hiding from the comments and rumors, she faced them head-on, calling attention directly to what other staff were saying about her. It took a lot to do that, I’d know; it was something I still struggled to do even now.
Never date a redhead, my father warned. The man had spent his entire life living like a billionaire but had never done anything to earn his wealth.
I disregarded his dating advice as quickly as I ignored his business advice.
There were many reasons the ownership duties passed by Jonathan Crosby, Jr., but the biggest one was that Granddad didn’t trust him to do the work.
My grandfather was well known for his one-line insults, and Dad had earned every single one.
Yes, he was as useless as tits on a bull, a wet paper bag, and comparing him to a soup sandwich wasn’t necessarily wrong either.
He and Mom were great hosts, though. Each summer, they were responsible for opening the Nantucket house and hosting the best parties.
They ran an arm of the Minutemen Charitable Foundation, but their leadership strengths were limited to party planning.
I had wanted this since I was old enough to say the word baseball.
And yes, I would happily do the work while my father collected a check.
I considered it well worth it to prevent him from fucking everything up instead.
The worst part, he would work his ass off and fail, and there were too many people who relied on this organization for their own livelihoods for it to fail.
My phone had lit up with the staff contact information.
When I got to Kendra’s, I saved it and thought back to her proposal.
Her sister and Sam’s relationship had created a media crush this past summer, but they handled it well.
Or their personal assistant and team of lawyers had handled it for them.
Either way, Kelsey and Sam had gone from liabilities to assets for the team.
I emailed Blythe from HR and requested a copy of Kendra’s resume. And yep, it reflected everything she had presented in the meeting. With a little more digging online, I found out she had been an athlete at Dartmouth, playing lacrosse all four years.
Stop, Hawk.
You definitely shouldn’t watch game highlights of her playing the sport. But damn, she moved fast.
I berated myself as my thumb hovered over the search function on Instagram. Social media accounts blurred the personal and professional lines; it was none of my business if she had a husband, boyfriend, or even a girlfriend.
As if she knew I was doing something questionable, my sister texted me right then. The queen of questionable decisions always held me to a higher standard. At one point in my life, I might have envied her freedom. Not now, it struck me as boring and aimless.
Colby: How’s it going, big shot?
The media had portrayed the decision for me to take over the organization as some terrible conspiracy to oust my sister from what she was due. After all the work that had been done to promote women in sports and sports management, this decision brought us back years.
But she had never wanted anything to do with the team. We had two old, gray attorneys hash out a deal on our behalf: I got the team, and she got cash in the trust fund that she would never need and I would never miss. She remained my best friend. That was the last time we discussed it.
Me: You know, faking it until I make it.
Colby: That good?
Me: You should stop by the park tomorrow. I have all the suits playing ball with the grounds staff.
Colby: Oh man. Please send me pictures. Isn’t it cold there?
Me: Where are you?
Colby: Um…
Me: Colby?
The media loved telling the story of a brother stealing his sister’s opportunity.
Still, no one looked at how unqualified Colby was for anything that required her to act like an adult.
I loved my sister, and she would do anything for me, but she was too free-spirited to tie herself down with a job.
The second she graduated from college, she ran off to Europe for a two-month sabbatical.
She joked that she should pay me to deal with the Minutemen.
Maybe someday she would get bored with this lifestyle, but owning a baseball team wouldn’t make her do that. She’d hate every minute of it.
Colby: I rented a villa in St. John, but I’ll be back for Christmas.
Me: You better. Nonna would flip out if you missed it.
Colby: Should I soft-launch my relationship with Haley?
I wanted to tell her to go for it, but the last girlfriend Colby had introduced the family to, they had all assumed she meant she was a platonic friend. My parents had been no help either and giggled at Nonna’s mistake.
Me: Is this the real deal? Or do you think this is just fun?
Colby: This is forever.
This was the third time she had told me her current relationship was forever.
She got in and out of relationships as often as she changed shoes.
If she weren’t one of my favorite people, I would have rolled my eyes and called her on her bullshit.
But I wanted it to be forever, because the last time she broke up with a girlfriend, she crashed in my spare bedroom and turned it into a filthy depression pit.
Even though she had an apartment in the same building as me.
Me: I hope so. You deserve to be happy.
Colby: Anyone new for you?
Me: When do I have time to date?
Colby: That’s your choice. Hope you’re at least making an effort to blow off steam.
No way. Nope. This was none of Colby’s business. And I wasn’t going to admit to her that I couldn’t remember the last time I had sex.
Colby: Come on, Hawk. It’s okay if it’s been a while.
Colby: Hawk?
I left her on read. It was the only way to get a point across to Colby. That, and she knew I hated it when she called me Hawk. Yes, it was how I was known to the general public, but she only called me Hawk when she was trying to annoy me.
I inherited Granddad’s files and spent every night for the last month poring through the documents he’d left behind.
There were at least forty years of team history in those cabinets, and in the years before computers, he had documented it through copious notes.
It was like I had the secret history of one of the most famous baseball teams in the country at my fingertips.
I hadn’t told anyone yet, but I eventually planned to make this history public, or at least anything that wouldn’t sacrifice a winning strategy, not that the team had won anything lately.
The contract with Drummond had been a great first step, and last year, we had done well in the draft, but there were some noticeable holes in our infield, and our catcher had been pushing for a long-term, high-dollar contract.
For the last 10 years, our GM, Trace Cooper, has been given strict instructions to keep payroll below the luxury tax thresholds.
This led to the team underspending on talent, and the fanbase that got sick of coming in second to the Bronx.
When I met with him two weeks before, he had come to me with a plan for talent acquisition, and I gave him the go-ahead to pursue big names.
We had one of the best pitchers in baseball, and the second best, but if we couldn’t hit and our fielding sucked, these guys would request trades to get onto winning teams. Yeah, they loved money, but rings talked almost as loud.
Trace had been tapped to assemble a file of the current roster and include any red flags.
At the moment, our biggest issue was Elijah Griffen.
Our third baseman appeared to be a family man, and his wife, Lindy, and their three children made the perfect Hallmark card.
Unfortunately, the man was a filthy pig on the road.
He’d been on the list to trade, but his reputation had carried far and wide, and his stats for the last two seasons weren’t worth the headache.
I locked up for the night after 10:00 pm. I ignored my growling stomach long enough and stopped at one of my favorite restaurants on the way home.
“Hawk, the usual?”
I nodded, and a Coors Light bottle landed on the counter before me. God, I loved Boston. I could show up at a casual sports bar and interact with the customers there; no one cared what I did for a living. I was no different from anyone else who bellied up to the bar.
“I’ll have a Caesar salad with grilled chicken, too.”
I scrolled through my phone while I sipped my beer, attempting to catch up on the news from the day. A few bar patrons complained about the Bears, the hockey team, and expressed their hope that this would be the year for the Minutemen.
Yeah, me too.
While I usually tried my best to ignore the bitches and moans of all the locals, this guy seemed to have some good thoughts.
For every ten fans who talked out of their ass, there was at least one of them who should have gone into a career in sports management.
So yeah, we got into a lengthy debate, and when he saw the team make the move, he’d be able to tell his buddies that he was right.
If this guy hadn’t looked like the only beverage he drank had fermented hops, I probably would have hired him on the spot.
I was about to ask for my bill when a certain Assistant Director of Operations sat across from me at the bar. She ordered a glass of Chardonnay and then buried her head in her phone, not noticing me. I signaled to the bartender that I was ready for another round and watched from the corner.
My penthouse apartment no longer seemed that interesting.