Page 6 of Chasing Headlines
“Softball’s not exactly easy,” I grumbled, then pressed my lips shut.Said it out loud, again.I swallowed. “I think there are some bigger stories.”
Mrs. P crossed her arms over the edge of her desk. “It's theoffseason. Football isonseason. So is men's soccer. We don'thaveto report on baseball year-round.”
“But this is year two of a full program rebuild. The administration brought Coach Schorr out of retirement last season. He won the college six national championships during his initial tenure. He's the reason we have the nicknameVictory Tech.”
“It's a play on . . .” She waved a hand. “You know your Strikers baseball history. Very impressive.”
“Thank you. I'll be the best baseball reporter you've ever had, I swear.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “If I had any doubts, I assure you they're assuaged. Very, very assuaged. But I'll say it again: we have other projects and limited resources. You don't have to come up with?—”
“We got Breslin Cooper.” The words tumbled out in a rush.Interrupted her again.I winced, but held my breath.
Waited fortheresponse. A spark of recognition. A reaction of any sort?
She peeled off her glasses and straightened.
I cleared my throat. “Breslin Cooper.” I drew out his name this time. “It was quite the last minute steal, took a crazy amount of coordination right at the deadline. But he'll be in a Strikers uniform this season.” I gripped the edges of the chair to keep myself from floating away.
“Who's Breslin Cooper? And don't you dare say: a baseball player.” She pointed at me with her folded up glasses. “I got that part.”
I froze.Don't look upset. Game face.But what? Seriously? Who's Breslin Cooper? Only the hottest baseball property that was on the scouting market, until?—
“I'm still waiting.”
“Ah, he was number one last year. Last two years, actually.” My fingers drummed into her desk. “In the national high school baseball rankings? You know,thatBreslin Cooper?”
“I have enough to manage with college sports in Texas. I can’t keep up with, what is it, North Carolina?” She muttered something that sounded like: “. . . not a Texas accent.”
I didn’t dare look at her. I was afraid my game face would fail me. I ducked my head and crossed my ankles. “He playedfor Oklahoma.” I kept my voice soft, trying not to sound argumentative. “But his mom passed, I believe it was cancer—just before the playoff series. There was a whole mess that happened after. Like right after, at the hospital. A reporter with a camera and some—” I lifted my gaze. Mrs. P pursed her lips together. I was not winning her over. “He punched the guy. Was arrested. Made national news.”
Cameras flashed on the television screen. Coop held up a hand. His blue eyes dazed. Lost.
“. . . feel about you playing the same week she died?” A man shouted. More flashes.
“Charges were filed. He was a minor, so a lot of it got hushed up from there. One thing was clear, though.” I stared at the top of her desk, but all I saw was that news coverage from my memory. I didn't know him, but I'd studied him in my scouting internship, along with, admittedly, a few hundred other players. He stood out, though. Had been my secret baseball crush for two years.
But that day . . .
“Leave us alone!” Coop's voice broke. The image of his face froze on screen. A news reporter droned in the background.
My throat squeezed. “He was heading for the IML draft right out of high school. The first position player in almost twenty years. Now, he's on a full ride to Texas State Tech.”
Mrs. P folded her hands on top of her knee. One eyebrow lifted. “What's your angle?”
“That's, um.” I willed my brain to surface from the memory. He’d not been seen on camera since the national championship game five months ago. Disappeared from all our scouting reports. He would have anyway if he'd been drafted. But this felt like he'd just been . . . erased. “That's a good question.”
“Minors’ records are legally restricted and he deserves the benefit of that.”
I blinked. What? “Oh no. I really wanted a positive angle. Overcoming adversity? Or a fresh start, maybe?”
“Sounds like a puff piece.” She frowned as she tapped her glasses against her bottom lip. My stomach twisted.
“Oh.” Ugh. What else was there that was positive?Wait, is she? She's considering it.Need something. Think!“What about . . . maybe, you know, um, rivals turned teammates?”
She stared at me. Mouth tight, eyebrows pinched. I found the words just tumbling out of my mouth. “The pitcher Coop faced off against in the championship? Bitter rivals on the national stage, Tanner Meyers. He's here. And-and those national ranking stats are all those guys live and breathe through high school. We have five of last year's top twenty, and now they're competing in close quarters for some number of roster spots. Doesn't that seem, I dunno, drama-filled? Newsworthy? Lots of human interest kinda stuff?” My hands shook. I folded them together again and held on for dear life.
“Actually . . . it's not bad.”