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Which is exactly why it was the right choice for me to protect Mitch’s position for a few months.
That’s an issue for another time, though, because now, the players are being led by their captain – Tray – and assistant captain – Nate Cowan – into the room.
“Grab a seat, guys,” I tell them, significantly more cheerily than I feel. A squad of men this size, who are the best at what they do, coming to listen to my rules on keeping their reputations squeaky clean is intimidating, honestly.
One on one is my thing. I can make conversation about anything from the sublime to the ridiculous in the name of networking. I understand my role in PR and perform my craft well. This… this is new to me.
“That’s your wife?” I hear someone whisper. I choose to keep my focus on my laptop, which is currently displaying a presentation on the large screen.
Presentations can be dull. But some of these boys are fresh out of school; I’m sure they’ll cope. Just in case, I have a bag of secret weapons to hold their attention… candy!
They take forever to settle into seats – God, how do they ever manage to watch tape in this room if they can’t all sit down nicely? They flick each other, hit each other, gripe and pull faces at each other. I’m dealing with a whole bunch of kids. Turns out Jax is not so special, even if he is in the heart of all the kerfuffle.
It’s his behavior that has me frowning, with my hands on hips, as I wait for him to calm down for our session.
“Whenever you’re ready, Jax,” I say.
Which actually only leads to his teammates giving him grief and I get a – probably deserved – glower in response.
Hey, an emotion that isn’t him being the clown of the class. Gold star!
Irritatingly, though, brooding looks good on him. Still, the way he leans back into his seat, arm outstretched and hanging lazily over the spare next to him, legs spread, body language disinterested, is ticking me off.
You’re twenty-six, not six, I want to say, but this isn’t the appropriate forum. Instead, I give him a proverbial dressing down, running my gaze from his head to his…
I snag on those thick, muscly spread legs, the way his quads are so defined I can count them, and calves so toned his stretchy socks might tear.
Now, I’m thinking, man, I’d like to—
I cough into my fist and adjust my reading glasses as I feign checking the documents I have neatly stacked in front of me.
Composed, I look pointedly to Jax. “I appreciate this is not your favorite part of being a professional athlete, and that some of you clearly don’t want to be here at all…” Jax rolls his eyes. Genuinely, seriously, looks to the heavens like a chastised kid, which is fitting, actually. “But the League earns money through endorsements and your pockets are therefore lined as a direct consequence of how you present yourselves on and off the ice.”
“Hey, Jax, I think your wife might hate you,” one of the players whispers. When I drag a deep breath in, letting him know that I won’t suffer clowns in my sessions, he salutes me. I have to dig deep not to smirk.
“I’m sure most of you are familiar with this sort of preseason brief from my team because I know Mitch well and he’s told me as much.” I swear I hear a mumbled gripe from my Director of Comms – I am going to be suffering Carter for the next three months. “I also know that Mitch and I are aligned professionally, so there won’t be much new for you today.”
I introduce myself fully, give them a brief professional background and assure them – while trying to reassure my team, too – that Mitch will be back in post three months from now, if not sooner.
“I’m going to hand over to Bianca, our Social Media Manager, in a moment. She’ll give you an overview of what’s happening later for the preseason recordings. But before I leave you to it, at the end of this session, I want each of you to make your way down here and take your choice of document from these three stacks.” I tap the papers in front of me.
“My experience in PR, working with many sports players, has taught me that the most likely way a professional sports player will damage his reputation is dating the wrong girl, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Here, I have three rule books: a version for the single guys, one for those of you in relationships, and one for those in…” I don’t mean to but my eyes flick up to Jax. “Ambiguous circumstances.”
I walk around the front of the desk, fold my arms and sit back onto the edge. “I’m here to protect you and this franchise. Talk to me if you mess up and otherwise, do what this excellent team around me suggests. The outcome will be a squeaky-clean reputation for the club and more endorsement deals for you all. It’s a win-win if we work collaboratively. Any questions?”
Nate holds up his hand. “Is that like a dating playbook? For the kids.” He finishes by winking at one of the rookies.
“In part, yes. Open the door for her or him, buy them flowers, don’t proposition her, let her proposition you, don’t use a cheap dating app, invest in a higher-brow version where there’s an expectation of privacy and the person you date is less likely to be screwing you for a quick buck from a media story. Better yet, ask me to connect you with someone from an invitation-only site. That kind of thing.”
Nate holds up his hand, again. “What’s in the relationship version?”
“Don’t cheat. Apologize when you fuck up and it’s your fault. Sometimes apologize if you don’t because wives, girlfriends, partners have a lot to put up with while you’re on the road and they’re keeping everything together at home. And… don’t cheat. Ever. If your other half cheats, be graceful about it.” Don’t get wasted, dress like a minion and marry a playboy, I think but decide to keep to myself.
“And the, ah, ambiguous playbook? What’s that?” Zach asks. He knows mine and Jax’s secret; he was there, in Las Vegas, saw it all unfold.
I shrug, outwardly nonchalant. “For those who don’t know whether they’re in a committed, exclusive relationship or not.”
“What’s the advice in that situation?” Jax asks. I blink, trying to regain composure from the one person I do not expect to challenge me on this.
