stretching my right leg.
Bryant lets his head tip back, so that he’s concentrating on the clouds. “That might be so, but what did I tell you a long time ago? Things happen for a reason. There is always a meaning about why life jerks you one way or the other, and you have to lean into that. You got swept up in something evil, but it doesn’t mean you have to turn with that tide. Be a good teammate, a good leader. Play the game you love. You know more than anyone that life isn’t fair, that it’s short, and you only have so many games left. Play the hell out of them.”
His words sink into my brain as I bring my legs together and grab my toes, stretching my back and hamstrings at the same time. The grass beneath my legs is familiar, I became one with the ball field long ago.
“Why’d you have to come here and go all philosopher on me?” I half-joke.
“Because I’m an old man who knows better than you.” He nods matter-of-factly.
“Glad you’re here, though. I hope you’re sticking around for dinner after.”
“Of course I am, you’re buying.” Bryant pats me on the shoulder as he rises. “Have a good game, kid.”
He walks off, pulling his signature black leather notebook from his back pocket, and begins jotting some notes. I have no doubt his piece will be spectacular, that it will convey the exact essence of what it’s like to watch a game in Pistons’ stadium today.
But his words echo in my ears, far after I exit for the locker room and to dress in my game day uniform. My fairy godfather has a point, and I think I have to abandon some of my pigheaded nature and follow his advice.
9
Colleen
A couple of the concessions workers I know wave as I pass their stands, the smell of roasted peanuts and sizzling hot dogs invading my nose.
Fans mill about the in the concourse, drinking beers or taking a breather from the sun shining down on their seats. There is still a coolness in the air; the season hasn’t quite turned from spring to summer in Pennsylvania yet, and my favorite months of baseball are still to come. Summer nights under those large, bright lights, day games in the heat when you almost want to pass out, but then your favorite player makes a hell of a play.
I walk through the stadium, my second home. Actually, it’s probably my first. I only venture back to my ranch house to sleep these days, and since I have a shower in my office, sometimes I’m not even doing that in my humble abode.
General managers of a team typically control player contracts, plan and maintain budgets for the team, arrange travel plans, address both public and internal complaints, hires and fires coaching staff, and smooths out the kinks between the front office and the on-the-field-employees.
Suffice it to say, I’m pretty darn busy.
This week alone, I’ve had two meetings with the coaching staff on how player operations have been going, spent time with the field manager, or head coach, talking about our game strategy for the next few weeks, and am taking a deep dive into the contracts my father negotiated. The paperwork around them, the shady inner-workings, the money … it’s a goddamn circus. I’ll be working overtime on those for months, and will probably have them straightened out in our budgets and on our books come the end of the season, right in time for those players to leave.
It all got to be too much, so I decided to watch tonight’s game from the family room.
Sometimes I like to watch from in there. Two years ago, I worked a rotation in the charity and events department of the Pistons organization, which worked closely with the players’ families to help involve them on both of those initiatives. In that time, I’d developed some close relationships with some of the wives and parents, and this room held a lot more joy during games than the owner’s box.
As I walk into the huge three-room suite, the screech of children makes me smile. It had been my idea to put the small toy corner in here, and clearly it was paying off. Two of the little boys are racing Hot Wheels cars around people’s feet, and three of our closing pitcher’s daughters are playing with dolls on the floor. A baby who is just starting to crawl has a light-up toy in