Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
More like my dad insisted I learn the sport, claimed it was vital for business. That is, until he decided golf courses were among his many enemies.
“Sounds like my dad too. With a football, that is,” Braxton says as we move aside for a pair of silver-haired golfers in a cart.
“Your dad’s one of the reasons you visit here so often, right?”
“Definitely.” Braxton smiles sheepishly. “Is it weird I miss my family? I should be a swinging single dude out there, loving the party life at age twenty-seven. And yet, I miss the ’rents.”
I smile. “That’s a good thing.” It doesn’t resonate with me, but it doesn’t have to. My job, if he says yes to CTM, is to make him happy. “The Mercenaries could use a new kicker. One who’s eminently dependable.” Their current kicker is pretty hit or miss, but I don’t say that out loud. Don’t want to be dissing other athletes in front of one I’m courting.
Braxton’s eyes twinkle. “You think so? That’d be goals, man, to play here with the Mercenaries.”
“The trick with that team, though, is getting them to keep their good players. They traded away a terrific quarterback a couple years ago,” I shake my head, still amazed at that bone-headed front office decision. They gave up one of the best signal callers in the league. Then again, that spelled opportunity for me to fill that void with another client of mine. “But now they have Drew Adams and he had a great season. He’s one of my clients and I think you’d like playing with him,” I say, musing on the progress that football team has made lately and the deals I’ve inked for my guys. “And of course San Diego isn’t far and has good team management.”
“I like San Diego,” Braxton says, upbeat, but then his expression shifts, and he looks me in the eye. “But the thing is, I don’t want to get lost at CTM. You know I’m talking to other agencies, right? Like your last one.”
“And you should,” I say evenly. I’m not going to tell the guy not to check out the competition. That’s a surefire way to sink your chances.
“I’ve been with a big agency,” he continues. “Didn’t love it, to be honest.”
“I’ve worked with both a big agency now and a small one. At CTM, we bring a boutique touch with the support of a large company.” I gesture to the two of us here on the course. Boutique touch, and all.
“Cool,” he says, but we’ve arrived at the sixth hole, and Braxton is back to the business of the day. “All right, golf pro. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I let my club do the talking as I finish in three strokes to his four.
As suspected, I don’t sign him by the last hole. Braxton will take some time, but he’ll be worth it. He’s a good guy with a solid head on his shoulders and a big heart.
As we leave the clubhouse, the free agent kicker shakes my hand. “Thanks again for your time. I like your style. I like attention,” he says.
Do I ever understand him. “I’ll make sure you get it if you sign with us,” I say.
He’s quiet for a few beats. “I’ll think about it. And thanks for meeting so early. I’m an early riser,” he says, then checks his wristwatch. “This digital watch is like my best friend. I never miss a tee time.”
“I’m an early riser too. Which means feel free to call me any hour of the day.” I figure that’ll help my case with Braxton—I’m almost always available for my clients, or I can be quickly.
A small smile shifts his lips. “Appreciate that. See you soon.”
We go our separate ways, and as I drive to the office, listening to the Friday morning market news, I review the day ahead. Contracts, phone calls, and drinks with the goalie for the women’s soccer team to celebrate the deal Adriana and I struck for her with a yoga clothes maker.
Then, a glimpse of the ballpark intrudes on my day planning.
Ah, hell. I nearly forgot I passed the damn field on the way to work from the course.
I try to focus on my weekend schedule rather than the guy who’ll be fielding on that diamond later. Let’s see…My aunt’s coming to town tonight, so she’ll entice me to play pickleball sometime tomorrow. I’m seeing a play Saturday night with Bryan and some local friends. On Sunday, I’ll indulge in a long run in the hills.
Am I past the ballpark yet?
Almost.
Then on Sunday night I’ll…
But as the road curves closer, I spot the Jumbotron flashing Bandits versus Dragons at 1:10.
Like a rubber band, my mind snaps away from the weekend to right here, right now. Is Zane already at the ballpark, just a few hundred feet away? Or maybe working out inside the facility? Or heading to the diamond for batting practice?