by Amber Heart
Recognizing her voice, Frank lifted his head and shifted his gaze in her direction long enough to reply, “Kincaid.” He then loosened his grip and let the papers that had him so enrapt float down to his desk. As they lay about, still in a fan, he punctuated their escape from his grasp with a sigh. “Yeah, I’ve got a quick minute,” he said, “what ya got?”
Feeling more than prepared to seize the opportunity, Kennedi’s face lit up. “Great!” she said, still standing in the doorway, with only the top part of her body actually inside of Frank’s office. “I wanted to get your insight on a story I plan to pitch at today’s staff meeting, if I can,” she said, cautiously making sure that Frank fully understood why she was there.
“Mmm, OK,” Frank replied, momentarily pushing back from his desk, sliding down in his chair, and crossing his legs at the ankle. “Come on in,” he proffered, ready to oblige her but hoping that Kennedi’s pitch would be short. Thinking ahead, Frank realized that he would need to revisit his new, significantly reduced budget sooner than later. In preparation for that, he put a bookmark on the last thought he had Kennedi’s pre-interruption and prepared his mind to listen to one of his best reporters.
With Frank’s invitation, Kennedi finally brought the rest of her body over the threshold from the larger workspace into Frank’s somewhat cramped, but tidy office. Ready to get down to business, she made a bee line for the light brown, swivel chair that sat directly across from his desk. While Kennedi always thought the tweed chair was significantly outdated, her emotional response to it could change from moment to moment. Whether it was a resting place or a hot seat, a place of respite or a place of reprimand, Kennedi’s perception of the one piece of furniture in Frank’s office strictly dedicated to visitors could change, fluidly, depending on the circumstance and Frank’s demeanor.
“As you know,” Kennedi prefaced while taking her seat, “I spent my summer at Sports Illustrated and…”
“Of course I know,” Frank interrupted, distracting Kennedi from her well-rehearsed spiel. “How’d that go?” he asked, clasping his hands and resting them across his rather round belly.
“Oh, it was amazing!” Kennedi said, rolling with the punches and, essentially, steering into Frank’s distraction. Recalibrating herself, she continued. “I think the experience was hugely beneficial - overall and I learned a lot. But, I’m sitting in front of you right now because there was one very undeniable theme that ran throughout my tenure at SI.” Kennedi inserted a pause to build the momentum of her statement and inject an air of drama. “Anytime someone on staff there – or anybody really – found out that I was from DSU, they couldn’t wait to bring up one name…”
Franks eyes perked up, silently begging, “Who?”
“Dante’ Douglas,” Kennedi answered, leaning forward in her chair.
As soon as the name left Kennedi’s lips, Frank relaxed his eyebrows, leaned back further in his chair, and exhaled. As he inhaled, he drew his hands, fashioned in the shape of a steeple, under is nose with his fingertips nestled comfortably under his nasal septum. “Yes, go on…” Frank said, looking intrigued.
Prepared to do just that, Kennedi continued with the remainder of her pitch. “Well, all of this very real, very energetic interest in Dante’ – outside of our relatively small campus no less – got me thinking! We are missing out on a fantastic opportunity here and by we, I mean the Weekly. We should be covering Dante’ much more actively! I checked, to date, he’s only been mentioned twice in our paper and he’s never actually been the central focus of a feature.”
Frank nodded in acknowledgment of Kennedi’s points.
She continued. “This kid is the first from DSU to ever be considered for the NFL draft – and that’s no small feat. Here it is, we have this amazing talent, a real unicorn of an opportunity, and we’re not really taking advantage of it. I think the Douglas Weekly could be doing more with, what I think, is highly exclusive access to someone who could end up being recognized as a national treasure. I think we should be doing more to educate the campus on what all of this could mean for Dante’ in the near-term and for our entire community-at-large down the line.”
Frank furrowed his eyebrows. “OK, so I’ve got a good idea about your motivation, but I need more information. What exactly are you proposing story-wise, Kincaid?” As Frank probed further, he reclined even further in his chair, leaned his head back, and looked up at the ceiling. Kennedi knew this posture all too well; this was his routine – the way he primed his ears and mind to objectively listen and, ultimately, make a decision.
As if the answer would appear on the ceiling, Frank would always assume this position while listening to a member of his news staff in pitch-mode. Every time, without interruption, Frank would hear out the full proposal, lower his head, and shift his eyes toward the person in the brown, tweed hot seat before delivering his response. With the ultimate poker face, it was never clear what Frank’s verdict would be until he actually revealed it in one of two very predictable sentences. In particular, he would either say “OK, this is a good start,” or, when the situation called for it, deliver a blunt and unequivocal, “No, the idea is not ready for prime time yet!” Frank was very serious about the quality of the paper and had a clear vision for how it integrated into the fabric of the university. He was very selective about the stories he featured and how they were presented – writers who took this into consideration before pitching were often the most successful.
After processing Frank’s question about her actual plan, Kennedi replied in earnest, “I want to profile Dante’ in a way that chronicles his experience – better yet, his journey – of making the transition from a star athlete and undergraduate at a small liberal arts college to, potentially, being a first-round draft pick in the NFL. I want to focus on who he is, get insight and perspective from the people around him, and really give our readers a more informed viewpoint, outside of the obvious reasons, about why he is such a sought-after talent and what that could mean for our university.”
Intrigued by the idea but still a little on the fence, Frank wanted more information before he could comfortably render a preliminary up or down vote. “OK,” Frank said, his fingers still tucked under is nose and slightly distorting the sound of his voice, “give me more insight on how you plan cover this story?”
“Hmm, well…” Kennedi said, stalling as she gathered her thoughts, thinking she was quite clear on her first bite of the apple. She sat quietly, trying to discern what Frank was really asking. Feeling like she was taking a stab in the dark, Kennedi continued. “To be clear,” she said, “I don’t think this story is a one-off piece. I see it more as a series of well-integrated, timely vignettes that each come from different angles. My goal, at the end of the series, is for our readers to have a holistic, multi-dimensional view of Dante’ and a newfound appreciation for him, whether they are into sports or not. For some portion of our campus community, this story may be their first introduction to him; but, I know that there are others who follow him so closely, the probably know what he ate for breakfast this morning. I want to create a series of pieces that everyone can enjoy.”
Kennedi watched for a response but aside from the rise and fall of his chest, Frank’s eyes appeared to be the only other part of his body that was moving. As she patiently waited for either more questions or a verdict, the silence was deafening. Despite her best attempt to put the argument away, Kennedi was still met with a quiet, pensive Frank. Per usual, Frank’s demeanor was no clear indicator of which way he was swinging or what would come next.
Never one to give up easily, Kennedi continued on in her campaign. “I just want to add that featuring this story, both in the paper and online, can have a considerable impact on the Weekly’s reach and recognition beyond this campus. Considering how excited everyone was about Dante’ when I was at SI, by publishing this series, we can be a major, go-to resource from anyone who wants to follow our home-grown phenom’s journey. Most importantly, with all of the newfound
attention we garner – and, hopefully, newfound appreciation for what we do – we might also be able to expect newfound cash flow from people outside of the university,” Kennedi added, raising both her voice and her eyebrows.
Though she had no idea that Frank was in the midst of a budget review when she first entered his office, Kennedi had quite intuitively just said the magic words: newfound, cash, and flow. In a rapid, almost elegant, fell-swoop, Frank drew his hands back to his lap, turned his head to face Kennedi and said, “I like it! We’ll talk more about it during our meeting. If you can get it past panel review, you can get started on it today.”
Since he varied from his normal script, in such a significant way, it took Kennedi a second to understand that she’d just won Frank’s support. But, once she did, Kennedi felt, what can only be described as, an electric shock travel from the base of her spine up to the apex of her neck. As quickly as Frank gave her the OK, Kennedi was well-aware that, although she had overcome a major obstacle, she was not quite home-free. Panel review, where she would have to present her colleagues with the story idea and get a majority vote to move forward, was no small feat. But, after preparing so strategically earlier in the day, Kennedi felt ready.
She rose out of her seat, feeling victorious. “You won’t regret this, Frank,” she said, on her way back out to the main area of the News Room.
“Everybody at Sports Illustrated wanted to talk about Dante’ Douglas, huh?” Frank asked, reiterating a critical part of Kennedi’s argument, and catching her before she’d crossed the threshold.
“Everybody, Frank!” she replied, turning back around and flailing her fingers to drive the point home as dramatically as she could.
“Well, then,” Frank started, with a sly look in his eye, “let’s see if we can’t give the people what they want!”
Chapter 3
Although Kennedi had just won a big, highly-influential ally in Frank, she was not completely in the clear to go ahead with her idea. The second, and most brutal step in the process was to pitch her article series to everyone on staff and get a majority, affirmative vote. While Frank was clearly the man with the lion’s share of the power, he implemented a somewhat democratic method for selecting the pieces that would be developed and run in the Weekly. Frank’s motivation for this approach was two-fold. For starters, he wanted everyone on staff to feel that they had a stake and ownership in what the Weekly published. In addition, he wanted to involve more heads and a more varied perspective in identifying the potential strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats of proposed pieces – on all dimensions.
In Kennedi’s favor, it was rare to have Frank’s support behind a story and not get it through the panel review – but it also wasn’t unheard of. In particular, if someone raised a valid question during discussion that was not met with a solid response, the chances of that idea becoming an actual story was close to nil. Kennedi knew the importance of getting her colleagues on-board; she had already started customizing her argument and adjusting her strategy to win their favor. She also knew how brutal the review process could be and had already braced herself for the worst.
Although she tried to appear calm on the outside, Kennedi nerves were going haywire as soon as the staff meeting started. Remaining on edge throughout, she waited patiently until she got a cue from Frank that it was time to pitch to the rest of the group. With about 10 minutes left in the meeting, Kennedi’s time had stealthily arrived. “OK, last on the agenda,” Frank announced, bringing his glasses down from his forehead and over his eyes with a quick, intentional flick of his wrist. He then slid a slip of paper closer to himself, scanned it, and barked, “Kincaid, you’re on!”
Thinking that her moment, her pitch would get more of an introduction than that, Kennedi was taken by surprise. But, quickly realizing that it was now or never, she took a deep breath and adjusted in her seat before addressing the room. “Well,” she began, almost breathlessly, “I’m not sure that I’ve had a chance to welcome everybody back to campus, so I want to begin by saying, ‘Welcome back and have a great semester!’” Kennedi’s greeting allowed her to not only butter up her colleagues but, also, get her bearing as she plunged head-first into her proposal. “OK,” Kennedi said, signaling the beginning of her spiel, “as many of you know, I did my internship at Sports Illustrated over the summer and something very interesting happened just about the whole time I was there. Everybody, and I mean everybody, who knew that I was from DSU couldn’t wait to ask me about Dante’ Douglas!”
After Kennedi ended her sentence, she paused to take stock of the room and noticed that just about everyone was either nodding or staring intently in her direction. Feeling more confident that she was on the right track with her approach, she continued. “I think we are missing an opportunity here. The Douglas Weekly needs to actively document Dante’s journey as he makes the – almost inevitable – journey to the pros. With that in mind, I’m proposing to write a story – no, make that a series of stories that focus on Dante’ and his journey from a variety of perspectives – and publish them once a month.”
Pausing to make sure that she had finished her opener, Frank scanned the room to gather any preliminary reaction. “Alright, the proposal is on the floor,” he said, breaking the silence. “Questions from the panel?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Jeffrey – that Weekly’s photographer – announced, before quickly and nervously clearing his throat. “So, what are you thinking, in terms of story angles? Are you just going to do a bunch of interviews with him, his teammates, coaches, etc. – like that? Or, will you do a day-in-the-life kind of thing and be a fly on the wall, just observing what you see and writing about it?” Jeffrey asked, focusing his gaze on Kennedi and rhythmically tapping his chin with a pencil. “I’m just trying to get an idea for your direction.”
“Well,” Kennedi sighed, adjusting in her seat once more. “I’m thinking about a mix of things. My goal is to find out who Dante’ is and make our readers feel like they know him as well. To do that, I want to talk to him, the people around him…get a feel for his life on and off the field…that kind of thing. As I mentioned, I want to chronicle his story over a series of months, and I don’t think that each piece has to be in the same format, or come from the same angle. In fact, now that I think more about your question, I think that it might actually be good to switch the format up – just a little bit – each month and not tie myself down to one approach.”
As she finished her sentence, Kennedi saw Jeffrey nodding and noticed Aaron – the Arts and Entertainment reporter – starting to lean forward. She could tell that he had a question brewing and she braced herself, unsure of what would come out of his mouth next. Aaron was quick-witted and had a knack for asking tough questions. Many of the panels that had turned brutal, in the past, were taken there by Aaron. Kennedi knew that if his question was not countered with a well-thought out response, her idea – though well-received at the onset – would undoubtedly tank.
“OK,” Aaron said, “I know you’re good, Kennedi, and I think your time at Sports Illustrated has probably served you well. I also think that it’s logical for you to cover this story here on campus given your experience there and the buzz you experienced first-hand. All of that makes sense to me.” Aaron lowered his head and paused after finishing his last statement. Listening keenly as Aaron rattled off his list, Kennedi wasn’t sure if he was simply building up to a larger point or slathering on a little anesthesia before stabbing her in the back. “That said, here’s my question,” Aaron began, pausing once again and looking as if he was still trying to work out what he wanted to say in his head. “What in do you have to actually get this series done. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a great idea – I’m just wondering if it’s a doable one. Do you have a contact on the football team? Do you know Dante’ or one of his close friends?”
On the inside, Kennedi breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily for her, she already had this base covered and was prepared to answer Aaron�
�s question with a little bit of name-dropping thrown in for added effect. “Before I left SI for the summer, I told my mentor, Alan Fraische, about this idea and he was all for it. In fact, he was so eager to support it, he even said that he would do anything he could to help me get this project underway. With that said, I already know that Alan has a relationship with Jim Gates, our Associate Athletics Director. In fact, that’s part of how I got the internship: Gates reached out to Alan and asked him to make room for one of our students. Anyway, as far as I can tell, I’ve got actually got an in much higher up than just at the team level, I’ve got a direct in with the Associate Athletic Director. So, I’m pretty confident that I can get the access I need.”
Aaron nodded, satisfied with Kennedi’s answer. “OK, I’m sold! Any other questions?” he said, darting his eyes around the table. Known to be the resident rabble-rouser, Aaron’s tone suggested that there couldn’t possibly be any other queries on the floor since he had already given his stamp of approval.
“Actually, I’ve got one,” Chelsea – Frank’s associate editor – replied, challenging Aaron’s tone and nodding in his direction. “Sports, and football in particular, are both so male-dominated,” she began, intensifying the inflection in her voice to mirror the expansiveness of the problem, as she perceived it. “I’m sure you might’ve got some practice handling – I’m just going to say it – the sexism that is so rampant in sports. But I would love to know - how do you plan to handle all of that in the context of this campus and our culture at DSU.”
Though the premise of Chelsea’s question was – on its face – harsh, Kennedi got exactly where she was coming from – and, more importantly, why the question was actually a critical part of the discussion. While the men around the table looked uncomfortable, as if Chelsea had broken some sort of rule for remaining politically correct, Kennedi totally recognized the merit of her question, had already considered it in the context of DSU’s culture, and was ready to address it.
