Because as he watched the short clip again on his laptop, Bennett wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
“You must be excited,” he heard himself say in the footage, “about being defending Cup champions.”
Dabbs shrugged casually. “It’s all part of the job.”
Hughes cocked his head like the question wasn’t worth answering. “Sure. It’s not every team that wins two cups in a row.”
Gaff smirked. “Obviously.”
“Jesus,” Bennett said now.
He’d been aiming for a certain vibe during this first set of interviews—he’d wanted excitement about the upcoming season, a sense of anticipation that would have the audience on the edge of their seats.
But as he continued watching?—
“Tell me about the stress that comes with being defending champions,” his on-screen self asked. “You must be feeling the pressure from fans and management alike.”
Another shrug from Dabbs. “Comes with the territory.”
Another head-cock from Hughes. “Of course.”
Another smirk from Gaff. “Obviously.”
“Jesus,” Bennett repeated.
His questions were leading the players in a specific direction, making their answers sound manufactured. Inauthentic.
Uninspired.
He knew better than to lead interviewees like that, but in his attempt to control the situation, he’d ended up with boring content even he didn’t want to watch.
What was it his mom had said about over-preparing himself into boredom?
Ugh.
His phone rang, and he didn’t need to look to know who was calling. Bracing himself, he answered without checking the caller ID. “Hi, David.”
“Bennett.”
The way David said his name so flatly settled like a stone in Bennett’s gut.
“I watched the footage you sent this morning,” David said, eschewing pleasantries. “It’s got promise.”
Bennett blinked at his laptop. Had he heard correctly? “It . . . does?”
“Not the interviews,” David continued, blunt as always. “There’s nothing usable there. There’s no heart. But that clip of Sandbaker and Deeley arguing after the team lost to Montreal? That’s gold, Ben.”
“Bennett,” he corrected, but David spoke over him.
“I want to see more of that. More authenticity, more heightened emotions, more . . . realness. Get to the heart of these players—their desires, their frustrations, all of it. That’s what fans will want to see. Not bland answers to blander questions.”
Mean, but true.
Was it possible Bennett had lost his mojo after Chain of Command?
“I want to see tension, grit, vulnerability,” David was saying. “This series needs to pack a punch. You’re not the only qualified filmmaker. You’ve got until the new year to show me that you’re the man for the job.”
The threat wasn’t subtle—either Bennett stepped up his game, or David would replace him. Didn’t matter that the series was Bennett’s idea—at the end of the day, this was a business and he was replaceable.
