won during his tenure as the general manager.
But being his favorite came with consequences. I spent most of my childhood in his office, going about his day to day with him. I’ve heard my family members whisper for years that I was gunning for his job, even when I was only elementary school aged. They were jealous, wanted a piece of the pie, or just did not understand the old man the way I did.
It’s why now that I’m in this position, my harshest critics aren’t sportscasters or other teams or even our most misogynistic players. They are my family members.
The people rooting for me to fail, or thinking I’m unqualified, or whispering behind my back, they’re the same ones I share DNA with. It’s upsetting, if I let that poison invade my brain for too long. It’s not as if I don’t doubt myself every day I walk into that office. But knowing that some of those closest to me are counting me out before I even make any real change, or put my name on this general manager position? It’s a tad devastating.
Uncle Daniel is clearly one of them. He’s trying to bully or intimidate me into thinking that I’ll be gone if I don’t do a good job this season. I’m not falling for that crap.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’ve been training my entire life to take over this seat. I learned from the best, even if one of them did it corruptly. I have been watching and learning, both hands-on and by observing others. For years. I have studied statistics, watched film, been present during drafts, helped with player personnel, spent one-on-one time with the coaches … suffice it to say, I’ve made it my mission to know every aspect of this job. And I have very big plans for it, and this team. There is no need to remind me how important it is that we succeed this year. I fully aware of that.”
It is, in the nicest way possible, me handing him his bullshit faux caring and intimidation back on a silver platter. Because I have no time for that, I don’t have the option to. There is simply not enough time to break down and panic, or begin doubting myself, or to realize how young or inexperienced I am for the general manager position. If I did that, I would never be able to dig myself out of that hole, for one. And for two, there’s simply too much to do here. So I choose to focus all my energy on that.
After all, it was what my grandfather had left to me.
That was the secret that no one knew. Everyone—the media, our family, the fans—have speculated that I was given the job out of some kind of nepotism, and I was. That much was true. But if it were up to Uncle Daniel, he would have made an outside hire.
My grandfather was the one still protecting me, five years after his death. He’d specified in his will, as part of his ownership agreement, that I be named the GM when my father finally relinquished the position. There was no way my uncle could undo the twisted legal work my grandfather had spun, and so here I am.
Though I have a feeling, if we don’t gel as a team or a front office, he will do everything in his power to oust me. My father’s indiscretions have made him paranoid, as are a bunch of other executives, and it wouldn’t be hard to form a coup.
Uncle Daniel coolly assesses me, his hands splayed on his desk as he sits in his high-back chair, and I stand. I know it’s supposed to be a power move, but I keep my body still. Don’t let him see you fidget, or sweat, or even bat an eyelash.
“Oh, and Swindell needs to cut his hair. Our team policy mandates that. He looks sloppy out there. I don’t care who these people think the Callahans are, we still run a tight ship.”
Leave it to Uncle Daniel to focus on trivial things like team hygiene and grooming at a time like this.
Great, now I’m going to give Hayes, or Mr. Swindell as he prefers, one more reason to loathe me.
6
Hayes
Fingering the ends of my dirty blond hair, I give a mental middle finger to the Pistons organization.
Which I’ve done about fifty times in the past six months, but this time, they’ve gone too far.
When Terry Grude, our head