Chapter 1
The office rumors were that I only had this job because my sister was engaged to Sam Drummond, and she was also the head of the non-profit supported through the Minutemen organization.
My degree was in sports management, and granted, before I’d been hired, my management experience was at a hockey rink in Hingham, MA.
Was this my dream job? Hell fucking yes.
As an organization, the Minutemen had more women executives than any other baseball team.
The ownership, the Crosby family, had just passed on to the new generation, skipped the daughter, and went to Jonathan Crosby III, also known as Hawk.
So while they supported women, they didn’t follow that rule for the women in ownership.
Colby Crosby had given a press conference where she insisted that while she loved baseball and the Minutemen Organization, she wasn’t interested in being part of the active day-to-day ownership.
It felt a bit hollow. . But then again, she was all over the gossip rags and seemed more interested in living a fun life than earning a living. .
The sports pundits had ripped into Hawk’s past, notably his college career, which included a Bachelor’s degree and a Master’s from Harvard. Massachusetts blue bloods only went to Harvard. He was squeaky clean, but if rich people were good at anything, it was keeping their secrets.
Having Dartmouth College on my resume helped; yes, I interviewed well.
Rumor had it that the new ownership was asserting its role by showing up to every presentation, which meant I might have a larger audience than expected when I presented my thoughts on the organization’s future.
Luckily, my Dartmouth pedigree had given me more than enough exposure to spoiled rich kids and trust fund babies.
The photos on the website did not prepare me to experience Hawk in person. Piercing blue eyes, a physique that rivaled the team’s athletes, and a mop of dark hair. Yes, I’d always had a thing for men in suits, mainly because a suit could hide a few flaws. But this man had none.
He commanded attention and would have even if he weren’t the boss.
As the Assistant Director of Operations, I occasionally contacted him, though the Director would vet every proposal carefully. I was still in training when Jonathan Crosby, Sr., was part of the day-to-day ownership.
I hadn’t expected Hawk to pause our presentations and instead put on a corporate team-building activity.
“This is day one of our retreat. Today will be office-based since I didn’t send the dress code beforehand.
We will be in the field tomorrow, so dress comfortably and be prepared to interact with all the staff.
We have leadership, concession staff, and grounds crews; everyone will work together.
If you have a baseball glove you prefer to use, bring it. Otherwise, you’ll be provided one.”
It was interesting and a bit cold. The December weather had turned chilly, though the ground hadn’t frozen yet.
“I plan to establish a culture where everyone within the organization knows their value. The kid working part-time as a concessionaire can work in the corporate office if they want to. Our Human Resources department will provide training and education for staff, including mentorship programs up to and including senior leadership. Eligibility for year-end bonuses will require participation in mentorship activities.”
The leadership team around the table showed no outward signs of disagreement. But this wasn’t a group that took kindly to having contingencies placed on their bonuses. A few staff group chats would pop off the second Hawk left the conference room.
He spoke for about ten more minutes and outlined changes he planned to make, notably within the culture.
The major takeaway: Hawk Crosby planned on accessibility and involvement in the operations.
He asked each of us to send him a text and provide our names and positions within the organization, and he assured us that we could text him with issues.
We then went around the table and introduced ourselves. Hawk made eye contact with every one of us. He asked questions about our backgrounds, history, and motivation. He also asked what he thought we could do to improve the organization.
When it was my turn, I stuttered a moment when he leveled those piercing blues on mine. Shit. The intensity of his stare seemed almost inappropriate. Public speaking had always been a strength for me. I could talk in front of anyone and a group and never get tongue-tied or lose track of my point.
Why the fuck couldn’t I remember my name?
Deep breaths, Kenny.
“Kendra Colette, Assistant Director of Operations. I primarily research players, existing contracts, and terms, and work with the development and recruiters to sign talent.”
“What is your background?”
“I graduated from Dartmouth four years ago and managed an ice rink in Hingham that hosted eighteen youth travel hockey leagues. I also interned with the Providence Bears before that.”
“None of this experience is with baseball. How did you make the transition?”
A few notable chuckles around the table caught Hawk’s attention, and several coworkers averted their eyes as I turned red.
“Care to fill me in on the joke?”
I cleared my throat. “I think the reaction is because my sister, Kelsey Colette, is engaged to Sam Drummond. I’m not sure what relevance that has to my qualifications.”
“I trust that you weren’t involved in his contract negotiations?” Hawk asked.
“No, I’ve only been with the organization since the Fall. Full transparency, Sam and Kelsey had no idea I had applied or was in consideration for the position until after I had accepted it.”
“Is Kelsey the woman who has been working to establish the non-profit, Let Me Take That Off Your Plate?”
I nodded.
He absorbed my answer and said nothing else on the subject.
“If you could make one change in the organization that directly impacts your field of expertise, what would it be?”
I had two answers; one would be the safe answer, but from Hawk’s reactions throughout the meeting, he didn’t want to be safe. He planned to put his stamp on the organization and make improvements from the ground up.
“I would like to set policies that improve sports culture. Our contracts have clauses that give us an out if the player embarrasses the organization, but there are no teeth. Would the ownership be willing to throw an important game because a player broke the law? Are players allowed to disrespect fans? Women? Where are our lines?”
I took a breath before I continued.
“By the time these men sign with us, they have spent years around coaches who have turned a blind eye to bad behavior. In some cases, we inherit cocky bastards with little to no respect for the people who spend their hard-earned money on tickets, merchandise, and concessions that cover their salaries.”
“What are you asking, Kendra?”
“I think the Minutemen Organization should be leaders in sports culture. We talk about mentoring with the front-of-the-house and back-office staff, but our players should be leaders and mentors to Little League, Minor League, and even college teams.”
He nodded. “Work with Legal and put together a plan. Can you have something for me in two weeks?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Look for a calendar invite around the first of the year.”
Great, Kendra. Two weeks brought us to your first day back from vacation after Kelsey’s wedding. Guess vacation turned into work instead of relaxation.