Because now that my grandfather has passed along our family legacy to me, I am the sole owner of the Windy City Warriors,and this money we’re losing is coming straight from my own pocket.
I knew we were overspending. I just didn’t realize how far it had gone.
The MLB doesn’t implement a salary cap for teams, so this budget is more so an arbitrary number we try to work off to avoid certain league taxes and to make sure we’re not spending money simply because we want to.
And clearly, judging by these numbers, my grandfather enjoyed spending money.
“Yes, Reese.” Phil’s words are said slowly, as if giving me the extra time to understand them. “As we discussed, with it being your first year as owner, we think it’s best if you don’t make any major changes, and instead build off the framework we built while Arthur was in charge.”
“By operating in the red,” I finish for him.
“If I’m remembering correctly,youwere the one who decided to fire a long-tenured team physician mid-season last year, forcing your grandfather to pay out that contract while also paying Ms. Rhodes a new salary.”
“Doctor,” I correct. “Her title isDr.Rhodes. And Dr. Fredrick is a sexist pig. I refuse to have someone like that associated withmyclub.”
I catch the slight roll of his eyes and when I look around the room, I find that same annoyed expression mirrored back to me from the rest of the advisory board.
Well, everyone but Ed. Ed has always been my favorite. He’s my dad’s age and has worked under my grandfather for as long as I’ve been alive. He’s also the only man on this advisory board who doesn’t try to intimidate me.
Don’t get me wrong, he still does. They all do to a certain extent, but Ed doesn’t mean to. I simply want to do well inthis new role, and they’ve all had a front-row seat to watch my grandfather’s forty-year success.
“That salary bump was hardly a drop in the bucket,” Ed reminds the group. “Reese is right. Arthur was too loose with the budget his last few years here, but that’s going to be a problem for her long-term if this continues. We’re here to make sure she doesn’t fail.”
Again, there’s this shared look among the other four, as if they were to silently say, “Actually, we’re hoping that she does.”
I’m well aware how polarizing my new position is. There’s been a long-standing and very outdated position of “no women in baseball” and now, here I am, the first female team owner in MLB history.
There are far more people out there than the four sitting at this conference table hoping for my failure.
But I refuse to fail. I will do everything in my power to make my time here a success.
I’ve given up far too much to fail now.
And yes, I know that because I’m a woman, I will most likely have to work twice as hard and make our club’s success twice as noticeable to have any hope of being viewed as the right person to operate this team.
“So where are we making cuts?” I ask the group.
Scott leans back in his chair, hands laced behind his head. “You tell us,Stanford.”
He tacks on my alma mater with a patronizing edge.
“Why don’t you say what you mean there, Scott.”
“You spent all that money on a fancy MBA.” He sits forward with confidence, hands folded together on the table. “Don’t you think your time would be more valuable behind closed doors, focused on the business side of things? If you’re so concerned about the club’s financial state, why don’t you leave the baseball operations to someone else.”
“Someone else as in you.”
This arrogant smile lifts on his lips. “Great idea, Reese. Look at you, making smart decisions for yourself.”
Scott might be my least favorite of the bunch. While the rest are older, he’s the youngest, closer to my age, and unbelievably entitled in his position.
It’s not completely common for a team owner to be heavily involved with the everyday operations of their baseball club, but that’s not how we run the Windy City Warriors. Yes, my grandfather was the team owner, but he was also the President of Baseball Operations—a position the other twenty-nine teams choose to hire out. Some clubs have both a general manager and a president. Some have only a GM to handle the day-to-day business of the team. Whereas in our club, the president takes on the role of a team’s general manager. And now, that president is me.
In the past handful of years, before I was ready to take over, it all became too much for my grandfather to juggle on his own. He hired Scott to join the advisory board, but really, Scott was handling most of the baseball operations while my grandfather publicly held the title.
When he decided it was time to retire, though everyone knew I’d be taking over as owner of the team, most people expected me to name Scott as President of Baseball Operations.
I didn’t.
