Page 1 of Catching Her Heart
CHAPTER ONE
I clutchmy press credentials like a lifeline as I walk through the Austin Stars' stadium for the first time. The laminated badge reads "Piper Blackwood, Austin News Network" in bold letters, and I've been carrying it around for three days like a talisman. It's not that I'm nervous, I'm just strategically cautious.
The last time I trusted an athlete with a story, I ended up with a front-page retraction and a one-way ticket out of Chicago. But that was then. This is now. And I'm going to prove that I belong in this business, even if it kills me.
The problem is, I need access. Real access. Not just the sanitized press conference quotes that every other reporter gets. I need the inside story on why the Austin Stars have suddenly become the hottest team in baseball. Three months ago, they were barely .500. Now they're leading their division and looking like playoff contenders.
There's a story here. I can feel it.
I check my watch—twenty minutes until the team meeting I'm supposed to observe. Plenty of time to scope out the clubhouseand figure out who my best source is going to be. In my experience, it's never the star players who give you the real story. It's the guys in the background, the ones who see everything but don't usually get asked.
I spot a man in a team polo shirt adjusting some equipment near the batting cages. Perfect. Equipment managers see everything, and they're usually chatty.
"Excuse me," I call out, walking over with my most professional smile. "I'm Piper Blackwood with Austin News Network. I'm covering the team now, and I was wondering if you could help me understand the clubhouse dynamics a bit better?"
The man looks up, and I'm momentarily distracted by his eyes—they're the most unusual shade of green, like sea glass. He's younger than I expected for an equipment manager, maybe late twenties, with dark hair and a face that looks like it belongs in an old movie. Classic features, kind smile.
"Sure," he says, straightening up. "What do you want to know?"
"Well, I'm trying to get a read on the team chemistry. Who are the real leaders? Who should I be watching? The official roster doesn't always tell the whole story."
He nods thoughtfully. "That's true. What you see on paper isn't always what's happening in the clubhouse."
"Exactly!" I pull out my notebook, pleased to find someone who gets it. "So who would you say is the heart of this team? The guy who really makes things tick?"
The man considers this, and I like that he's not giving me a quick, throwaway answer. "I'd say it's probably the catcher. Ted Brennan. He's the one who sees everything from behind theplate, calls the game, keeps everyone focused. He's been here longer than most of the current roster."
"Interesting." I scribble notes. "And what about the recent winning streak? Any insights into what changed?"
"Jay's engagement definitely helped team morale," he says with a slight smile. "When your ace pitcher is happy, it tends to lift everyone else up. But honestly, I think it's more about the team finally clicking as a unit. These things sometimes just happen."
I'm impressed. This guy actually knows what he's talking about. Most equipment managers I've interviewed just grunt and point me toward the PR department.
"This is really helpful," I say, still writing. "And you are...?"
"Ted," he says.
"Ted...?" I wait for a last name.
"Brennan."
I freeze, my pen hovering over the paper. "Ted Brennan. As in, the catcher Ted Brennan?"
"That would be me."
Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what just happened. I just spent ten minutes interviewing the "heart of the team" while thinking he was the equipment manager. This is exactly the kind of mistake that got me in trouble in Chicago—making assumptions instead of doing my homework.
"Oh, I’m sorry," I say, mortified. "I thought you were?—"
"Equipment staff," Ted finishes, his smile becoming more amused than polite. "Yeah, I got that."
"I don't usually... I mean, I did my research, I just..." I flounder, trying to salvage some dignity. "You weren't wearing a uniform."
"It's batting practice," Ted says reasonably. "We don't always wear full gear for BP."
Right. Of course. Because I would know that if I'd been covering baseball for more than five minutes instead of getting thrown into this beat with zero preparation.
"Listen," I say, closing my notebook and trying to regroup. "Can we start over? I'm Piper Blackwood, and apparently I don’t know a catcher from a groundskeeper."
