Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Translation: I’m too risky.
“You think I’d fuck it up,” I say to Garrett.
He holds his hands out wide, an admission. “We think there are better ways for you to improve your likeability,” he says.
I roll my eyes. I’m not sure I can do anything but roll them. “I’m fine. I make enough playing,” I bite out because let’s be honest—pro athletes are not hurting for dough in most cases.
John lifts a finger. “Sure. But we’ve talked about your future plans frequently.”
I grit my teeth, hating that he’s right, but he’s right.
“We’ve talked about this,” John continues, “you want to make sure you have enough for your parents.”
We had so little growing up. Money was more than tight. My parents were and still are teachers. Hockey’s not cheap, so they put anything extra into the sport, including money they didn’t have. I was lucky I played at an ice rink where a pro hockey player had donated funds for the program. I want to take care of them now that I can. “Right,” I grumble.
“And we know that you could, god forbid, get hurt,” Garrett says sympathetically.
“Don’t remind me,” I say. A sprained wrist sidelined me for a few weeks my rookie season. It was hell. I was sure my career was over. The dark cloud of dread that followed me around those weeks off the ice has never fully cleared.
“That’s where sponsorships come into play because they provide that security even when a career ends,” Rosario says, cheerful and chipper.
I’m about to argue that smart savings of my salary will help, and they will, but why argue with them? They’re on my team. Besides, facts are facts—I want to take care of my parents, since they took care of me, and I can do that better if I have more guaranteed income. I draw a big breath, ready to let go of my irritation. It’s not going to win me any friends, and fact is, they’re right. I do want to save more and do it quickly. You never know what could happen tomorrow. And you never know what could happen later in life, when you’re older, when you can’t play, when you can’t maybe do a lot of things.
Briefly, I picture my grandfather in his final years, and my throat tightens. I breathe deeply, past the pain of those visits, and focus on the present. “So what do you have in mind? A new sponsor? A shoe company? A body spray company? A dating site? I mean, I don’t have to use it, do I?”
Garrett pushes his palms toward the table, like he’s saying slow down. “Actually, we think you need to rehab your image before we can get you a new sponsor.”
“It’s that bad?” I ask with more vulnerability than I’d expected.
Rosario smiles kindly, like she wants to pat my head in kindergarten class. “Your LQ is so low—it’s a one,” she whispers, nodding surreptitiously to the thermometer drawing on the whiteboard. “But we know how to boost it right back up,” she says, pointing to the top of the thermometer with a certain amount of…market research glee.
“Okay,” I say, hesitantly. “Why do I feel like I won’t like this?”
“That’s a good question. But does it really matter?” Garrett asks, sitting forward in the chair and parking his elbows on the table. He takes a beat, then pulls no punches when he says, “Max, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the team isn’t happy with you. They could fine you for not talking to the media, but they don’t want to do that and we don’t want that, do we?”
That’s bad. That’s basically at the level of you get one more strike and we don’t renew. What’s more, everyone in the league would know I was a problem child.
I gulp. “What do I have to do?”
“Well, we’ve been talking to the team about a great opportunity for you.”
I have a feeling my likability quotient for this idea will be below zero.
6
THE END OF THE FUN FACT ERA
Everly
Finishing my London fog latte, I work my way through emails and interview requests back at the office. As I go, I catch up on listening to podcasts and on-air interviews our players have done over the last few days.
Most I already sat in on, but if I can’t be there—since, well, I can’t be everywhere at once until I can clone myself—I like to listen to them. I don’t want to be blindsided with something I’ve missed. I hate surprises, which is weird since I work in sports, and literally every game is a surprise.
But sports are at least predictable.
What I aim to avoid is someone tipping me off to something I should have known—a problem I should have anticipated. I’m done listening right as I finish answering emails before they can pile up. When I hit send on the last one, my phone rings.