In the pressroom after the game, as we all waited for Coach Carr to arrive, I ran into Frank Smiley. “Good game,” he said. “Doesn’t get much closer than that.”
“I prefer blowouts to good games,” I said, thinking that assistant sports information directors had that luxury. We didn’t have to write about it; we just had to celebrate it. “Did you get a stat sheet?” I held a stack in my hands, hot off the presses.
He took one, said thanks.
“Did you see the longest run we gave up was seven yards?” I asked.
“I did. Some very impressive defensive stats,” he said.
“It all starts up front,” I said. “When you can control the line of scrimmage like that, it really allows you so much on the back end.”
I was making idle pressroom conversation but was also making a point: I knew this game, inside and out. And he should have hired me.
“So. If this were your beat, Ms. Rigsby, what would you ask Coach Carr?”
I looked at him, thinking that it was some real bullshit, his asking me a pseudo-interview question while I was working. But I played along. “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I might ask him about trusting a true freshman with the ball on the final play.”
“Hmm, yes,” he said, nodding. “And what do you think Coach’s answer would be?”
I exhaled, put the stat sheets on a table next to two ESPN reporters, and said, “The answer is … Patrick Elgin might be a true freshman, but we’ve repped that play a hundred times in practice. So he was ready for it. It’s not as much of a gamble as you’d think.”
Smiley nodded but looked dubious. It irked me enough to say, “I’d also ask something about how often he dropped eight into coverage and went with three down linemen when we’re used to seeing him bring more pressure to passing teams.”
Smiley adjusted his cap and said, “And that answer would be …?”
“Well, my answer is that the Aggies have a very strong receiving corps. So it was a simple matter of matching coverages and having to drop out of our nickel package. That’s why you saw three down linemen more frequently today.” I stared at him. “But that’s my answer. If you want Coach Carr’s answer, I guess you need to ask him yourself. I don’t ask questions—I pass out stat sheets.” I almost softened my statement with a smile, but decided against it.
Smiley gave me a long stare, then handed me a business-size envelope with my name typed on the front. “Ms. Rigsby, here is a formal offer letter to join my staff. You don’t have the requisite experience, but you know this game and you’re a good writer. Not great, but good. I’m taking a big chance on you. Please let me know by Monday morning.”
Before I could reply, he walked briskly back to his usual folding chair in the front row, left corner, next to Kenny Stone, his longtime reporter on the Walker beat. I looked down at the envelope, shook my head, and allowed myself a small, jubilant smile. Meanwhile, Coach Carr entered the room with Rhodes and Everclear, the three of them walking stoically and in single file up to the skirted table covered with microphones. The room quieted and the cameras rolled as Coach addressed the media, making his standard post-win remarks. Our boys showed up today. I’m proud of them. The Aggies gave us a tough fight. They’re a great team. But things went our way, and I’m pleased with that. Then he opened it up for questions, and Smiley’s hand shot up. Coach called on him, and Smiley’s gruff voice fired back. “Coach. Can you tell us why we saw so many situations with three down linemen tonight?”
I was surprised to hear my question, a little less so when Coach’s answer also followed my script. I watched as Smiley furiously scribbled, then turned, looked over his shoulder at me, and gave me a covert and shocking thumbs-up. Against all odds, I was finally in the club.
Fourteen
After the game, I met up with Lucy and Neil at the Third Rail, a little hole-in-the-wall bar on North Potomac known for its amazing wings and great jukebox filled with both old and new country, everything from Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash to Taylor Swift and Sugarland. It had been our go-to spot for years, and I considered it a small miracle and one of life’s simple joys