Page 163 of Full Contact

“Thirty-two clubs,” she said. “Thirty-two communications departments, and thirty-two different ideas about what you say when a player gets arrested, or a coach says something stupid into a microphone, or an owner decides to explain his stadium plans on a podcast. Right now we find out the same way the public does.”

“And when you find out,” I said, “what can you actually do?”

“Call them. Ask nicely.” She took off her glasses. “We’d like that to change. That’s the job in a nutshell.”

I went through the questions on my legal pad. Graham confirmed that I would control hiring for the forty-person department, within a budget I’d set with Elaine. When I asked which decisions would be mine, she gave me a list without looking up.

“And when a club ignores a league standard in public?”

The man from legal leaned forward. Starting next season, the communications standards would be part of the league agreements, with consequences attached. Two owners had fought the clause, but it had passed.

I put a check beside that question. I’d spent enough years being responsible for things I couldn’t control.

I could see the work: thirty-two departments, a bad week somewhere every week, and the authority to address mistakes I’d watched clubs repeat for eleven years. I was already thinking about which positions I’d fill first.

Near noon, Elaine glanced at Graham. He nodded.

“We’d like to offer you the position,” she said.

I turned to a fresh page to write down the terms. An August start. A deputy I could choose. Then we got to travel.

“How much?” I asked.

Graham described a typical month. I wrote down the trips. With each one, there was less room for anything else.

I listened all the way through. Then I put my pen down on the legal pad.

The job offer was an outstanding one, but I had things in Chicago that were half done.

I looked back over the terms. I could do the New York job. I could also imagine how quickly I’d fill every hour it left me.

My proposal was on Carla’s desk, and Leah’s promotion was in it. I wanted to be there when she settled into the expanded responsibilities. I wanted to find out how much better the department could work once I stopped making everyone wait for me.

Peaches had bloodwork in June. Trier had put me down for it. Dr. Feld had said a tech could teach me the ear gel. I wanted to take her.

Fans would be clamoring for Peaches Season 2 in the fall. I wanted to be a part of it.

And I wanted Trier. I’d tried weekends once, with Simon. I knew what that arrangement had cost us. I’d walked out of Trier’s condo without telling him how I really felt, and now he’d offered to get on a plane so we could talk.

I didn’t know what he would say, but I knew I had to stay to give us a chance.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m going to say no.”

Elaine’s pen stopped. Graham didn’t look surprised.

“It’s a good job,” I said. “You’ve put it together the right way, and I’d enjoy doing it, but I want to stay in Chicago. I don’t have a counteroffer.”

“Is there anything that would change your mind?” Elaine asked.

“No. I can’t think of anything, and I’d rather not make you wait.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. “Most people make us wait a week for a final decision.”

Graham walked me to the elevator. While we waited, he told me that the two clubs that had asked for our oversight memo in January had both adopted versions of it.

“That’s one reason your name came up,” he said.

“Tell them it was written for one player.”