Page 12 of Sweet Spot

“No, meaning I haven’t done my research. I always do my research before hiring someone.” Eli fit his rumored persona exactly.

Max grumbled beside him. “Stop being an ass.”

Eli was about the same age as Max, so in his late forties. His bright blue eyes missed nothing, not even his friend’s frustration. “I’m being honest.”

I cleared my throat. “Is that why you haven’t signed Erik Cassidy, Rhett Ryan, or Wes Allen yet?” I didn’t have a ton of time to dig up all the gossip and rumors swirling around Eli Stirling and the Mantas, but it was easy to pinpoint the source of most of the drama. Eli let three of the most beloved Mantas players go into free agency instead of offering them a deal. Or any contract at all. He didn’t even make an offer.

He froze. “Why?” he repeated my question. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Are you doing your research? Is that why you haven’t signed three of your most reliable and successful players?” The players were pissed. All of them. The fans were out of their minds. And, from what I could tell, so was the front office, the staff, and even the fans of other teams. It seemed to be the lead story on every sports newscast.

“You told her?” Eli scowled at Max.

He held up his hands. “It wasn’t me.”

“Gentleman. This isn’t a secret. It’s all anyone can talk about. Mr. Stirling, you don’t just have an office problem. You have a public image disaster on your hands.”

Eli’s face fell and his eyes hardened. I knew that look. It was the one of a man who was used to being in control and failing to understand just how far he’d gone wrong. “They’re the oldest players on the team. The most likely to be injured and out for the season. They’ve also got the shortest long-term potential. I’m looking at the future of the team.”

Max shook his head in disgust. “Who are you? You sat beside me just months ago screaming at the television as they played, detailing all the ways these same men were amazing at their positions. You buy the team and forget all that, Eli?”

“Of course not. I’m thinking—”

“Strategically,” I interrupted. “And that was the right way of doing things for the Stirling Group. But this isn’t the Stirling Group. This is an entirely different—forgive me for the pun—ballgame. You cannot simply look at the long-term projections. This is a living breathing team. Ignoring the here and now will end in failure.”

Eli’s face twitched before he sat back. “In what ways?”

So many ways. All the ways. But it had to make sense to Eli Stirling. So I gave a simple explanation that included fan psychology, loyalty, and comfort before delivering the part that really mattered most. “If you want to run the Mantas the way you run your other companies there is only one solution: start over. Let the staff leave and replace them with new employees who share your vision. Let the players move on in free agency or trade them away until you have the young team you desire. The only way your method of success translates to professional baseball is if you erase all the success, everything that brought the Mantas to the place they are now and rebuild from the ground up. It will take years, you will lose the fan base and possibly the support of the cities, but eventually, this team, whatever is left of it, will run the way you wish.”

With every word out of my mouth, Eli turned paler and paler until he ran his hand down his face. Max spoke into the silence. “You bought the team because you love them. I know you wanted to bring in new ideas and make the team even more successful but running roughshod over something that already works is killing this team.”

“Okay,” Eli said with a heavy sigh. “Fine. I will stop trying to do things differently. For now. Dr. James, if you’re willing, I’d appreciate the help righting the ship.”

“You have my contract and fees and I have your updated contracts and NDA. As long as we all reach an agreement, I can start on Tuesday.” I grabbed my purse. “And Mr. Stirling, I’m not saying your ideas aren’t good. They might be very good. I can help you implement them in ways that don’t turn every headline into gossip about the Mantas.”

“Noted, Dr. James,” Eli said with a hint of a smile. A knock sounded at the door. “Ah, before you go, there is someone I’d like you to meet.”

I set my purse back down. “Of course.”

“Come in!” Eli barked.

The door opened and a tall man dressed in a suit stepped inside. “You asked to see me, Mr. Stirling?”

That voice. Those eyes. I knew this man. Eli and Max both stood. I stumbled onto my high heels as fast as I could.

“Thank you, Anson. I appreciate it. This is Dr. Kate James; she’ll be helping us smooth things over while you get the team together. Dr. James, this is Isaac Anson, the team manager.”

Our gazes collided and it was as if it was last night all over again, only totally different. His unruly hair had a trim and his scruff of a beard was gone. Instead of a t-shirt and flip flops he wore a very nice suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist.

He had somehow transformed into very much my type. Like Cinderella.

Except a small part of me missed the scruff and the floppy hair. His mouth opened and closed twice before he gave himself a shake. “Dr. James, it’s nice to meet you.”

Team manager. That was the work taking him out of town for a month. Spring training. It all fell into place.

“This is Anson’s first year leading the team but I’m confident he is the future of the Mantas.” Eli said it as fact and I wasn’t here to dispute it. I was too stunned to try.

“I look forward to working with you Mr. Anson.”

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