He was right. There was no one in the huge room when Stevie and Susan Carol arrived. They showed the documents to Bobby and Tamara and showed them the parts Arciero had pointed out as being crucial. By lunchtime, they had written close to 2,000 words explaining the saga. Their lede was direct:
“Five members of the California Dreams tested positive for human growth hormone (HGH) after the Dreams’ victory over the Washington Redskins in the NFC Championship game, according to medical documents acquired by the Washington Herald.
“Although the positive tests should have triggered a second set of confirming tests, Dreams owner Donald Meeker engaged in a widespread cover-up to ensure that the players—all of them starting offensive linemen—would not face suspension for tonight’s Super Bowl game. Under league rules, players are automatically suspended from their next game if both an A and B blood sample test positive for HGH. But because of the cover-up, second samples were not taken from the players in question.
“Asked what the chances were that the second samples would not have come back positive, one doctor familiar with the tests said, “about 100-to-1 against. The players union has tried to portray this test as having a high false-positive rate, but I’ve found it to be almost completely accurate. It’s pretty clear these guys were taking HGH. The second test isn’t much more than a formality.”
They talked about whether that quote—from Arciero—would unmask him as a source. Not necessarily, they decided, since they could have showed the results to any doctor familiar with HGH and he would have drawn the same conclusion.
“The issue is going to be who gave you the test results,” Kelleher said, “not what a doctor thinks looking at them.”
The rest of the story laid out the backstory of the new NFL drug-testing system and why the league had felt it necessary to adopt it, and how it had played out during this first season. They worked in a quote from the commissioner from his press conference, but stated clearly that the league hadn’t anticipated the potential for manipulation of the tests. Then they went into what might happen and the penalties the players, the team, and Meeker might face.
Kelleher and Mearns went through the story in detail and rewrote a number of paragraphs. It was almost one o’clock. People were starting to trickle into the room.
“Okay, our room should be clean by now and it’s pretty big,” Kelleher said. “Let’s go up there and get this to the paper and the lawyers in Washington. Then we’ll decide when we’re going to call Goodell and when we’re going to call Meeker.”
“Call Goodell and Meeker?” Stevie said. “What for?”
Kelleher smiled. “Story like this, you have to give people a chance to comment. Goodell will express shock and say the league will investigate—that’s about all he can say. Meeker may hang up on us or may curse at us—who knows? But you have to give him a chance to say something.”
“But won’t the story get out once we call them for comment?” Susan Carol asked.
“Absolutely. The Herald will post a bulletin online this evening, and the story will be in our first edition, which hits the streets about nine o’clock tonight. Sunday’s news really breaks Saturday night.
“One other thing,” Kelleher said.
“What’s that?” Stevie said.
“You guys need to call your parents. They need to hear about this from you.”
“Oh God,” Susan Carol said. “Not again.”
Kelleher smiled. “Yes, Susan Carol,” he said. “Again.”
The session with the lawyer was both serious and funny at the same time. Kelleher put her on the speakerphone in the room, and she began asking questions.
“This shouldn’t take more than an hour,” said the lawyer, whose name was Heather Matlock.
“An hour?” Kelleher said. “This is a newspaper story, not a book.”
“A very controversial news story with all sorts of legal implications,” Matlock said.
She had a point. Many of her questions were understandable. Without asking for names, she wanted to know how reliable the sources quoted in the story were. There were also questions that were borderline silly: “Are you sure this doctor is a doctor?” she asked about Arciero at one point.
“If he’s not, all the people he’s done surgery on are in for quite a shock,” Kelleher said.
Heather Matlock didn’t even giggle.
She also asked at one point if Stevie and Susan Carol had actually seen the test results.
“Heather, the story says ‘according to documents obtained by the Washington Herald,’” Kelleher said.
“Oh, that’s a reference to the test results?” Matlock said.
Stevie could see Kelleher biting his lip. He knew he was thinking the same thing: No, it’s a reference to today’s Indianapolis Star. Kelleher resisted. “Yes, that’s what that is.”
Matlock proved to be right. The session took a little more than an hour. As if to prove she was somehow in charge, she concluded by saying, “I’m going to sign off on this on the condition that you get responses from the owner—what’s his name, Meeker?—and from the commissioner.”
Kelleher sighed. “Heather, I’ve been doing this a few years now. I know how to be a reporter.”
“Your name isn’t on the story, Bobby,” Matlock replied. “We’re running a story about a major scandal written by a couple of fourteen-year-olds. If I’m not cautious, I’m not doing my job.”
“Yeah, I hear you, Heather. But they’ve got this nailed, I promise.”
They signed off with Heather Matlock. Tamara had gone downstairs to cover the Hall of Fame press conference.
“When do we talk to Goodell and Meeker?” Susan Carol asked.
“When the press conference is over, Tamara is going to tell Goodell’s main PR guy that it’s going to be vitally important we talk to the commissioner at around six o’clock. After we talk to him, we’ll call Meeker on that cell phone number you got, Susan Carol. Deadline is six-thirty, so we’ll phone the quotes in fast. There will be a bulletin about the story on our Web site at eight o’clock and the full story will be out there at nine. Then the bullets will start flying.”
Stevie shuddered a bit. In the other stories he and Susan Carol had broken, the bad guys had all been caught before the papers hit the stands. To him, the writing of a story like this should mean the adventure was over, that the bad guys were out of circulation. But this time the bad guys would still be out there. And they would be very, very angry.
The next few hours crawled by. They rewrote a few paragraphs and took a few calls from the editors at the Herald asking questions. Susan Carol went briefly to the Canterbury to pick up some things—they’d agreed she should stay with them at the Marriott after the news broke. Tamara came back to report that the highlight of the Hall of Fame press conference had been the announcement that Tony Kornheiser, one of Stevie’s heroes in journalism, had been voted into the writers and broadcasters wing.
“I guess they know who he is,” Stevie said, remembering an incident in New Orleans when a hotel clerk had not known who Kornheiser was—much to Tony’s dismay.
“More important, I talked to Joe Browne,” Tamara said. “He was pretty baffled by the whole thing, but he promised that the commissioner would call here at six o’clock. He said he’d only have about five minutes.”
“When he hears what the story is, he’ll have more than five minutes,” Kelleher said.
“How are we going to do this?” Stevie asked.
“We’ll put him on speaker—and we’ll do the same thing if we get Meeker—and let him know there are three Herald reporters on the call. I will simply read the first few paragraphs of the story, and then we’ll let them comment.”
“It’s all a little bit scary, isn’t it?” said Susan Carol, making Stevie feel better about his case of nerves.
“Uh-huh,” Kelleher said. “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts, because it’s too late to back out now.”
“Second thoughts?” Susan Ca
rol said. “No way. We’re reporters. We have a story. We have to tell it.”
“Even if it is frightening,” Stevie said.
“That’s exactly right,” Kelleher said. “You guys will be fine. We’re the good guys. Always remember that.”
Stevie didn’t feel like such a good guy when he got his parents on the phone. He tried to downplay the story, telling them he and Susan Carol had stumbled on another scandal—a cover-up involving the Dreams—and that the story would be in Sunday’s Herald and they would probably be hearing their names on TV again later that night.
“What kind of scandal?” his father wanted to know.
“It involves HGH,” Stevie said.
“Guys testing positive?”
“Yes.”
“And the team is covering it up? And you can prove it?!”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God. Let me talk to Bobby.”
He passed the phone to Kelleher, who was alternately apologetic and firm, telling Bill Thomas he should be very proud of Stevie and assuring him he would be in good hands until he got home to Philadelphia. A few minutes later, he had a similar conversation with Don Anderson.
“When the two of them talk to one another, which they will,” Susan Carol said, “we’re both going to be in a lot of trouble.”
“I suspect we’ll all be in a lot of trouble,” Kelleher said. “But we’ll deal with that in a day or two. For now, we still have to get the story into the newspaper. We can deal with the fallout later.”
They took a walk to get some fresh air and then watched a college basketball game between Indiana and Illinois on TV.
“I love that orange jacket that Bruce Weber wears,” Tamara said when the Illinois coach came on camera wearing a jacket that looked a lot like an orange Creamsicle to Stevie.
Beyond that, there wasn’t much chatter, except for Susan Carol saying quietly, “Thank goodness,” when the Duke–Florida State score flashed on screen, showing that Duke had pulled out a 77–73 victory at home.
Stevie had just looked at his watch for perhaps the thousandth time when the phone rang. Even though it was exactly six o’clock and the phone was supposed to ring, the sound was almost jarring.
Kelleher picked up the phone. Joe Browne had placed the call for Goodell. “We’re ready to go on this end, Joe,” Kelleher said.
Goodell was obviously standing right there, because a second later Stevie heard Kelleher say, “Commissioner, I know how busy you are tonight, so I’m going to put you on speakerphone right away and let Steve Thomas and Susan Carol Anderson say hello to you too.”
Kelleher laughed. “No, not ganging up on you. But they actually wrote the story we need to ask you about. I’m just sort of the on-site editor.”
Stevie was consistently amazed by Kelleher’s willingness to give up the spotlight. All week he had been setting Stevie up with stories that he easily could have written himself, and now, on a story that would no doubt make huge headlines, he was doing everything he could to make it happen—while taking none of the credit for it himself.
Kelleher hit the speaker button and said, “Roger, can you hear me?”
“I can hear you,” Goodell said. “Steve, Susan Carol, I’ve been watching your work all week—it’s been terrific.”
Stevie and Susan Carol both said thank you and brief hellos.
“You might not enjoy this piece of work as much,” Kelleher said. “But they’ve done a great job nailing this story down, and I think it’s important you be aware of it before it breaks in a few hours, because you’re going to be bombarded once it’s out.”
“Joe told me it was something like that. I’m listening.”
“I think the easiest thing to do is to read you the first few graphs. You’ll understand where we’re going pretty quickly.”
He proceeded to read the first five paragraphs to Goodell. At one point, Stevie thought he heard Goodell say, “Oh holy…” When Kelleher got to the point where he was going to start explaining how the NFL’s drug-testing rules worked, he stopped. “Do you want more?” he asked.
“No,” Goodell said. “I’ve heard enough.”
There was a lengthy silence on the other end of the phone. Stevie was going to say something, but Kelleher put a finger up to indicate he should stay quiet. Stevie noticed Kelleher was looking at his watch. He realized what he was doing—timing how long it took Goodell to say something.
“I’m honestly not sure I can say anything or should say anything,” Goodell said finally. “Bobby, can we go off the record for just one minute?”
“Why?” Kelleher said.
“I just want to ask you one question.”
Kelleher was silent for a second. “Okay,” he said. “But you know we need an on-the-record response from you.”
“I know that,” Goodell said. “My question’s simple: Are you absolutely, one hundred percent certain about this? The story’s been lawyered—everything?”
Kelleher smiled. “That’s a reasonable question. Yes, we’re sure. And so are our lawyers.”
“You’ve seen the test results, then. Someone didn’t just tell you what was in them?”
“Commissioner, the story says ‘documents obtained by the Washington Herald.’ We’ve got them here with us right now.”
Goodell sighed. “Okay. You know I’d like to consult with Joe before I answer.”
“And you know we don’t want an answer crafted by Joe. We want your answer. You’re the commissioner.”
More silence. “Ready?” Goodell said.
“Been ready,” Kelleher said.
“The allegations made in this story are, of course, stunning and frightening for a number of reasons. Clearly, we must undertake a full and thorough investigation, and I can only hope that the story proves to be untrue. If it is true, the league will act swiftly and thoroughly to punish anyone found guilty of wrongdoing.”
He stopped. They waited for more.
“That’s it,” Goodell said. “That’s all I’ve got.”
“But what about the game?” Susan Carol asked, echoing the exact five words flashing through Stevie’s mind.
“What about it?” Goodell asked.
“You’re going to let them play?”
“As of this moment, I’ve got absolutely no proof that anyone is guilty of anything,” Goodell said. “I can’t take action against people based on a newspaper story—all of you know that.”
“What if someone turned over the documentation to you?” Kelleher said.
“That’s still just the first sample. Until there’s a B sample, no one can be considered guilty.”
“But there is no B sample because of Meeker’s cover-up,” Stevie said, then realized he was yelling when Susan Carol and Kelleher shot him looks.
“That’s your allegation, Steve,” Goodell said. “It may prove true. It may not. But again, I can’t take any action based on it.”
“So the five guys play tomorrow night,” Kelleher said.
“I’ve got no evidence that could lead to a suspension.”
“I’ve got a question, Commissioner,” Susan Carol said. “Hypothetically, if someone took a drug test the day after the conference championship games and tested positive, would there be time to get results back from a second sample before the Super Bowl?”
“Absolutely,” Goodell said.
“And if someone came back positive on both samples, you would suspend them for the Super Bowl?”
“I would have no choice under the collective bargaining agreement,” Goodell said. “They would be suspended—period.”
Kelleher followed up. “So, if an owner or a coach had a player test positive, and he wanted him to play in the Super Bowl, covering up the A sample and stalling on the B sample would be the way to go.”
“You know I didn’t say that, Bobby. What I will say is this: we can’t suspend a player until we get both samples back. It’s exactly the same as the Olympic drug rules.”
Kelleher looked at
Stevie and Susan Carol to see if they had any more questions. “Commissioner, thank you,” he said.
“Bobby, Steve, Susan Carol, you just ruined my weekend.”
“That’s on the record,” Kelleher said.
Goodell laughed. “That’s fine. It happens to be true.”
He hung up.
“Okay,” Kelleher said. “One more call to make.”
“I suspect this one won’t be nearly as pleasant,” Susan Carol said.
“That may be the understatement of the week,” Kelleher answered.
He picked the phone back up and started dialing.
19: TOUCHDOWN!
STEVIE WAS HALF HOPING they would get voice mail on Don Meeker’s cell phone, although Kelleher had already said that if they did, they would have to call Dewey Blanton, the Dreams’ PR guy who had been so helpful to Stevie earlier in the week. Stevie knew he was right.
There was no need, as it turned out. Meeker picked up on the second ring.
“Donald Meeker,” he said.
“Mr. Meeker,” Kelleher said, intentionally being formal, Stevie knew, because of the gravity of the situation. “This is Bobby Kelleher. I’m here with Steve Thomas and Susan Carol Anderson.”
He had put the call on speaker when dialing because he knew that, unlike with Goodell, courtesy would be pointless.
“What the hell can you three possibly want?” Meeker said. “How did you get this number?”
“You gave it to me the other night, sir,” Susan Carol said, jumping in.
“I’ll have it changed about five minutes from now,” Meeker said.
“All well and good,” Kelleher said. “But we’re calling you as a courtesy because Steve and Susan Carol have written a story that is going to appear in tomorrow’s Washington Herald, which will be on the streets in about three hours.
“I’m just going to read you the first few paragraphs and let you comment. Then we’ll be done.”
“We’ll be done when I say we’re done,” Meeker said.
“That’s fine,” Kelleher said. He started to read.
Cover-up Page 17
