Baseball. It’s fucking baseball.
Dammit. The only thing worse than baseball is golf.
It’s fine. I know the sport and it’s not like I have to offer a running commentary. It’s a recap report. Just hitting the highlights of an old Yankees-Braves game.
I read the lines, reciting the matchup history and before I know it, I’m describing the plays even though I can’t see them. The producer will add them in the upper right corner of the screen later. Hell, maybe she’s doing it as I speak.
“And how about that save by Jones at the top of the fifth? Talk about true athleticism. I’m not sure anyone else could’ve made that play.”
I look at the camera and miss the next line.
Fuck.
It scrolls out of sight and my smile falters. I force it back into place, concentrating on the teleprompter.
No big deal. One line is nothing.
Just read the words on the screen.
“The guy is a beast. If he keeps playing like that, it’s going to be a tough series for the Yankees. I don’t know who he does it.”
How. The word was supposed to behow, notwho. It’s a common mistake with dyslexia, my brain mixing up the letters to produce the wrong word.
My pulse accelerates, hammering my temples with a steadily increasing beat.
If I just had more time… But there is no time. No time to make a correction or a joke or to center myself because the words on the teleprompter just keep scrolling.
I drop another line and pick up at the bottom of the screen.
Focus, asshole.
The more frustrated I get, the harder it’ll be to concentrate.
But knowing it doesn’t make it any easier.
Not when Sutton is watching. And Mac. Kali. Preston.
That asshole is probably enjoying this. I can’t see his face, but I can easily picture his smug grin in my mind’s eye.
It doesn’t matter.
This isn’t about him. It’s about me. My performance.
I fucked up, but I will not throw in the towel. It’s not who I am. I push the fear and anxiety from my mind and focus on the screen, on keeping my energy high.
I give a play-by-play of what must’ve been an incredible grand slam, and I accidentally saynowinstead ofwon, but it’s the only other mistake.
A big one.
When the last line scrolls by and I give the bullshit “Until next time” line, it takes a herculean effort to hold my smile until the cameraman calls “Cut!”
Because despite all the prep work, I just blew my shot at the Sports Stream internship.
42
SUTTON
Devin is killing the broadcast.He always has great energy, but seeing him on set? It’s a whole other level.
