Power Play
Page 12
“Sorry, boss, but nothing came my way,” Perry said. “The first I heard about it was from Walt’s tweet. I was on it when you called us all in.”
Einstein said, “Easy enough to tweet, boss, as you know. Walt’s blog is close to tanking; he needs to regain reader interest. Maybe he made it up. Perry and the rest of us can dig out the real facts, if there are any. Everyone will forget that Walt Derwent ever floated the rumor.”
Lolita Barcas, aging hippie and worldwide soccer maven, said, “What are you going to do next, Einstein, ask Perry out? I say go out with him, Perry, and thank him because, fact is, you blew it. If this had anything to do with the Mexican soccer team, I would have known about it instantly and tweeted it myself.”
Einstein sneered. “Yeah, Lolita, but who gives a flying hoot about the Mexican soccer team?”
Lolita tossed her long, thick gray braid. “My readers and most of the world, numb nuts. If only you’d had the brain to bet on the U.S. team when they played Mexico last year at Estadio Azteca, like I told you to, you could have taken us all out to dinner.”
Einstein raised his hands, palms out. “Yeah, yeah, I should have listened, okay? How about I say you’re right, Lolita, Perry blew this one.”
Bennett said, “This isn’t about blame, people. We don’t have much time. Perry, who do you think gave Derwent this juicy morsel?”
“I’m thinking it was someone in Kary Munson’s office,” she said, and added for those in the room who didn’t know who he was, “He’s Tebow’s agent. I heard a couple of months ago Kary owed Walt a favor for something, I don’t know what. Still, it would take guts for Kary to risk any of his people calling Derwent to even float this rumor. Is it true? Have the Patriots decided to bring him back, coach him up, see if he can eventually take Brady’s place after he retires? I don’t know, but there’s something that doesn’t feel right. I mean, if it’s true, why not an official announcement?”
Lolita said, “I can’t see it being Tebow’s agent. Why would he? Maybe Belichick is still thinking about bringing Tebow back, and the agent leaked it to force his hand.”
“Kary Munson will deny to his dying day his office was the leak,” Bennett said. “Beyond his dying day.”
Perry thought she might have picked something up, that was the truth, if she’d been on her game. But she’d been worried about her mom, of course, and now about this FBI agent her mom thought was her special knight from God. A rumor about Tebow going back to the Patriots didn’t even come close. But it was her job to care, her livelihood, and she was fiercely proud of it. She had to stay more turned in. It was one thing that her mom was a huge distraction, but that clean-bathroom-shower-grout FBI agent who’d saved her mom’s bacon yesterday? She’d have been all over the Tebow news, antennas buzzing, if she hadn’t given that moron with his come-hither saunter more than a passing thought. It was the cardinal rule in sportswriting: the more outlandish the rumor, the more important if it’s true.
“So I guess we all need to get on this, Perry,” Lolita said, giving her thick hippie braid another flip, “before this big whomping story blasts out all over ESPN and its dozens of talking heads and leaves the Post on the sidelines.”
Bennett said, “Perry, you have twenty minutes to find out if this rumor is true and give me two hundred words. We can be online within the hour and get a longer piece going for tomorrow’s paper.
“People, this is hair-on-fire time, so every one of you, go get comments, interesting takes we can use for tomorrow’s story.”
Perry was on her cell in under a minute. She started with assistant coaches, got the runaround, which she expected. Of course Walt Derwent had done the same thing, and four dozen other sportswriters as well.
Why not go to the Top Dog? She called Robert Kraft, owner of the Patriots, while she poured creamer into her coffee. Kraft had to know about the rumor, because no doubt every coach in the organization was talking about it and a gazillion sports people had called. But she’d bet he hadn’t spoken to any of them. Maybe he’d realize the best thing to do was be up front with her, not let the media chew on it and come up with absurd conclusions.
It was a huge relief when Mr. Kraft took her call and came clean with her. From experience, he knew she’d get everything right. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Kraft had known and liked her father, even remembered her as a skinny kid on the Redskins sideline.
She waited exactly six minutes before calling Belichick, time for Mr. Kraft to pave her way. He took her call, said since she’d already spoken to Kraft, what was there for him to say? And so he’d said only one word: no. No surprise, since Belichick was known for speaking only one word when fifteen would be better. He kept things close to the hoodie, his signature garb.
Einstein said, “Easy enough to tweet, boss, as you know. Walt’s blog is close to tanking; he needs to regain reader interest. Maybe he made it up. Perry and the rest of us can dig out the real facts, if there are any. Everyone will forget that Walt Derwent ever floated the rumor.”
Lolita Barcas, aging hippie and worldwide soccer maven, said, “What are you going to do next, Einstein, ask Perry out? I say go out with him, Perry, and thank him because, fact is, you blew it. If this had anything to do with the Mexican soccer team, I would have known about it instantly and tweeted it myself.”
Einstein sneered. “Yeah, Lolita, but who gives a flying hoot about the Mexican soccer team?”
Lolita tossed her long, thick gray braid. “My readers and most of the world, numb nuts. If only you’d had the brain to bet on the U.S. team when they played Mexico last year at Estadio Azteca, like I told you to, you could have taken us all out to dinner.”
Einstein raised his hands, palms out. “Yeah, yeah, I should have listened, okay? How about I say you’re right, Lolita, Perry blew this one.”
Bennett said, “This isn’t about blame, people. We don’t have much time. Perry, who do you think gave Derwent this juicy morsel?”
“I’m thinking it was someone in Kary Munson’s office,” she said, and added for those in the room who didn’t know who he was, “He’s Tebow’s agent. I heard a couple of months ago Kary owed Walt a favor for something, I don’t know what. Still, it would take guts for Kary to risk any of his people calling Derwent to even float this rumor. Is it true? Have the Patriots decided to bring him back, coach him up, see if he can eventually take Brady’s place after he retires? I don’t know, but there’s something that doesn’t feel right. I mean, if it’s true, why not an official announcement?”
Lolita said, “I can’t see it being Tebow’s agent. Why would he? Maybe Belichick is still thinking about bringing Tebow back, and the agent leaked it to force his hand.”
“Kary Munson will deny to his dying day his office was the leak,” Bennett said. “Beyond his dying day.”
Perry thought she might have picked something up, that was the truth, if she’d been on her game. But she’d been worried about her mom, of course, and now about this FBI agent her mom thought was her special knight from God. A rumor about Tebow going back to the Patriots didn’t even come close. But it was her job to care, her livelihood, and she was fiercely proud of it. She had to stay more turned in. It was one thing that her mom was a huge distraction, but that clean-bathroom-shower-grout FBI agent who’d saved her mom’s bacon yesterday? She’d have been all over the Tebow news, antennas buzzing, if she hadn’t given that moron with his come-hither saunter more than a passing thought. It was the cardinal rule in sportswriting: the more outlandish the rumor, the more important if it’s true.
“So I guess we all need to get on this, Perry,” Lolita said, giving her thick hippie braid another flip, “before this big whomping story blasts out all over ESPN and its dozens of talking heads and leaves the Post on the sidelines.”
Bennett said, “Perry, you have twenty minutes to find out if this rumor is true and give me two hundred words. We can be online within the hour and get a longer piece going for tomorrow’s paper.
“People, this is hair-on-fire time, so every one of you, go get comments, interesting takes we can use for tomorrow’s story.”
Perry was on her cell in under a minute. She started with assistant coaches, got the runaround, which she expected. Of course Walt Derwent had done the same thing, and four dozen other sportswriters as well.
Why not go to the Top Dog? She called Robert Kraft, owner of the Patriots, while she poured creamer into her coffee. Kraft had to know about the rumor, because no doubt every coach in the organization was talking about it and a gazillion sports people had called. But she’d bet he hadn’t spoken to any of them. Maybe he’d realize the best thing to do was be up front with her, not let the media chew on it and come up with absurd conclusions.
It was a huge relief when Mr. Kraft took her call and came clean with her. From experience, he knew she’d get everything right. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Kraft had known and liked her father, even remembered her as a skinny kid on the Redskins sideline.
She waited exactly six minutes before calling Belichick, time for Mr. Kraft to pave her way. He took her call, said since she’d already spoken to Kraft, what was there for him to say? And so he’d said only one word: no. No surprise, since Belichick was known for speaking only one word when fifteen would be better. He kept things close to the hoodie, his signature garb.
