The Player Next Door - Kathy Lyons Page 0,56
I was growing up. Obviously it hasn’t hurt me, but it could have helped my friends. Girls who got pregnant because they were bored, guys who started drinking or doing drugs for the same reason. Kids need a place to go when school’s out. I thought I could help with that.”
“You don’t have to wait ten years to do that.”
“I already donate, but I want to get involved. I want to really reach those kids who need some guidance and a lot of structure.”
She leaned back, trying to understand why it was so secretive. “That’s great, Mike.”
He flashed her a wan smile. She waited, but he didn’t say more. Eventually she had to ask.
“I don’t understand. Why are you acting so weird about it?”
“Tori…I don’t just want to run the charity. I want to work every day in it. And I want to support it with my money, too.”
She nodded. “I got that.”
“Most of my money. You think that because I make millions in a year, I’m going to be rolling in it all my life. I’ll never be poor, but I keep myself to a strict budget. I’ve never wanted a flashy lifestyle, so the rest goes to—”
“Your charity. I get it.”
“I wish. I’ve got family to support. My sisters are getting their graduate degrees. My mother has lots of medical expenses.”
“I’m sorry—”
“And my cousins are always around looking for a handout. I’ve got a business manager, and one of the things he does is track the freeloader part of my family. I pay them to work at a Boys and Girls Club. If they want my help, then they have to work for it.”
She kept her mouth shut, waiting for him to explain. But he stopped talking and after he’d drained his orange juice he just sat there with a sullen expression.
“I’m still waiting for why this is so bad. Why are you angry?”
“I’m not angry,” he said, his tone curt. She arched her brows, and eventually he sighed. “People only see the game part of my job. They don’t see the practice, the daily nutrition, the work of all that media bullshit. Do you know they want me to have a website updated weekly, and social media that gets an hourly message?”
She tried to think back. “I’ve never seen you tweet. And your Facebook page hasn’t been touched since last season. Well, not by you.” His fans posted all the time.
“I know. I hate that stuff. I didn’t used to, but it gets to be a grind. I’ve hired someone to help with it and he’s working with the media people about my come-back this fall.”
“How much do you have to do for that?”
He huffed out a breath. “As little as possible. But they like the story. Injured in a charity tournament, has it cost him his career? Buy tickets now and see the end live and in person!”
“That’s not what they’re saying.”
“Of course it is. Everyone wants to know if basketball is over for me.” He leaned forward. “Tori, no one cares if I just play well. I have to be spectacular somehow. Either with phenomenal play or a glorious disaster.”
She dropped her chin into her hand as she dredged up what little she knew about sports and the culture around it. “I don’t think that’s true. The fans just want to watch you play.”
“I don’t work for the fans,” he said softly. “I work for the guys who want me to sell tickets.”
Ah. There it was. Sure everyone wanted him to win games, but money was harder and harder to come by. The owners of the team paid Mike very well to sell tickets. That meant putting on a show. Add that to the pressure of being at the top of his physical ability despite his age and injuries, and that added up to a whole lot of pressure.
“You’re handling it very well.”
“I—” He shrugged. “I like the pressure. It keeps me sharp.”
“Doesn’t it get exhausting?”
“That’s why I’m hiding out in Evanston this summer.”
“But in the fall you’re going back to it.”
He flashed a quick smile. “Yeah.”
So he loved it, too. He had to, she supposed, otherwise he wouldn’t be so good at it. “And every time I ask you about your ten-year plan, you think about what will end your basketball career. What will happen that makes it impossible to play anymore?” She leaned forward. “So your anxiety has nothing to do with whether or not you can run a charity.”
“Yeah, it does. Damn