Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Shock races down my spine, stealing what I wanted to say until I'm just standing there nodding. She motions away from the crowd, and I follow her as she makes her way to a small alcove where we can talk in private. The sounds of the club are still loud around us, but it's not as chaotic here.
“Reese, I'm—”
“Please,” she cuts me off, her phone in her hand. “Please just let me get everything out before you say anything. Can you do that for me?”
I shut my mouth real quick, guilt surging through me at the fact that she's probably afraid I'm going to say something hurtful again.
I hate myself a little bit more for that, but I give her my sole focus.
“I need you to know that I did take that video down,” she starts. “The one that was getting all the hateful comments. I took it down, and I called Daniel’s wife personally to apologize to her even though she assured me that she didn't think it was my fault. She said Daniel was being overprotective of her, and she apologized for the way he was blaming me. I also told her that while I deleted the video, I could not control how many people had screen recorded it and were only adding fuel to the fire by reposting it and giving their own commentary on the comments. I’ve contacted as many as I can, and some of them have been super gracious about taking it down, but I can't control the entire internet. And that's a risk we always take when we make these kinds of videos. But I also talked to his wife about my plan, and I posted this today as part of what we discussed. Will you please watch it?”
I take her offered phone, clenching my jaw so I don't immediately respond. I know she's not done, and I don't want to break my promise of telling her I'll keep my mouth shut. But I want to tell her it's not her fault. I want to tell her that I'm a jerk and I didn't mean to say the things I did and that I knew her better and knew she would never do something like this.
I'll tell her in a minute, whenever she's done and gives me the floor.
I press play on the newest video posted on the Badgers’ page, reading the text that is overlaid on a video showing an entirely different side to the Badgers. Focusing on charities, players with families, and players who volunteer.
I read, taking in every word.
The Badgers may be thirst traps, there’s no denying that, but they're humans. Humans with loved ones who don't deserve hatred because they're attached to a certain player. The Bangor Badgers love their fans and know that your support fuels their success, but we need to stand together as a community of Badger supporters and not tolerate hateful fans who spread misinformation, give death threats, and hurt people. Let's do our best to not spread hate and instead celebrate the team we know and love.
The video goes on to show just exactly what side of the Badgers Reese is talking about, and it’s brilliant. It's a positive and impactful response to something that had been so dark and harmful. Something that was totally out of her control.
I hand the phone back to her, patiently waiting for my turn to speak.
“I have to be honest,” she says. “I did hate taking the video down. I hated it because it felt like I let those trolls who were saying hurtful things toward Daniel and his wife win. It felt like giving them power when they didn't deserve it. But of course, I took it down. Of course, I reached out to make sure his wife knew I was on top of it. And I spoke with Daniel two days ago, he understands, and he apologized for losing his cool.” She shakes her head. “And the thing with Darrell,” she says. “I honestly thought he was just like Daniel or Baylor or anyone who came before him who wanted a spotlight feature. I had no idea he was going to suggest what he did. I would never be okay with that. Never would’ve accepted that.”
Everything inside of me is begging to speak, begging to respond, but she continues.
“We started off with ten thousand followers,” she says, turning her phone back to me. “We now have two million. Those are new fans for our family,” she continues, and my heart clenches at the way she says our family.
My team. Her team.
She clicks a few things, navigating into the settings section of the page, scrolling down until her thumb hovers over the red delete button.
“And I'll burn it,” she continues. “I’ll delete it right now and hand in my resignation if that's what it takes for you to believe that I'm not some conniving, manipulative person who was only using you—”