At the urging of the others, it was Andi who told the story. Occasionally Jeff jumped in with a detail—like an incident with a handful of the guys, led by Ron Arlow, who had attempted to bully her during a scrimmage—but she told most of the story herself.
Only at the end, when describing her brief meeting with Coach J after the team list had been posted, was there the tiniest quaver in her voice. Jeff noticed that the soda he was sipping from was shaking a little bit when Andi talked about the posting of the team list.
The two reporters looked at each other when she finished, as if deciding who should speak first.
It was Barkann.
“The truth is, a couple of years ago, we wouldn’t even need to have this meeting,” he said. “Tom would have just come in, talked to me, and we’d have assigned him a crew to go out to your school and do the story.
“This time of year, the Eagles are always most of our show, and we’ve only got a half hour nowadays.”
“Used to be ninety minutes, just a few years ago,” Didinger inserted.
“Right. And it used to be that no one calculated how many Web hits a story would get before deciding whether to do it,” Barkann said. “A story was a story. Period. This is a story—period.”
“Except…” Andi said.
“Except now we have to sell it to people who think a story is only worthwhile if they think it’ll get those Web hits I mentioned,” Barkann said. “It may be that we need to lure them into this, go through a back door.”
“What do you mean by that?” Jeff asked.
“We start with Ray,” Barkann said. “They never tell him what to write for the website because, well, he’s Ray Didinger, and if you have someone writing for you who is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, you don’t mess with him.”
“When he’s writing about pro football,” Didinger said. “Something like this might not be quite so automatic.”
“Come on, Ray,” Barkann said. “You write the Eagles for Monday, then write something midweek on Andi. Change of pace for the readers.”
Didinger smiled. “I suppose I could do that,” he said. “Maybe write it on Tuesday or Wednesday.”
“But the first game is on Tuesday!” Andi said, then stopped herself, realizing she was raising her voice.
“I think we have to accept the fact that, realistically, you aren’t going to play Tuesday,” Barkann said. “Our goal is the long term.”
“When’s the next game?” Didinger asked.
“Friday,” Andi and Jeff said at the same moment.
Barkann nodded. “Ray, if you can write the column for Tuesday, I’ll bet we can generate some interest and get a crew out to the school with Tom on Wednesday. I’ll push to get it aired that night.”
“And if all goes well,” Didinger said, “the combination of the column and Tom’s piece will put all sorts of pressure on the coach by the time he gets to school on Thursday morning.”
Jeff looked at Andi. “What do you think? Sound like a plan?”
“How would you do it?” Andi asked.
Didinger looked at his watch. “I can spend some time right now interviewing both of you. I’ll need some contact information for the coach and for the principal. I can call them tomorrow and have the column up early on Tuesday.”
“Coach Johnston won’t talk to you,” Andi said.
“That’s fine,” Didinger said. “I just need to make the call so I can say I gave him a chance to tell his side. What about the principal?”
“I think he’ll talk,” Andi said. “He’s a decent guy. He’s the one who made Coach Johnston let me try out. He just didn’t know the tryout was fake.”
Didinger took out a digital recorder. “Everybody ready?” he said.
Everyone nodded. “Andi, I’ll start with you,” he said. “Michael, make yourself useful, okay? Get me some more coffee.”
It didn’t take long for Andi and Jeff to retell the story.
When Didinger was finished with Jeff, the two kids went back downstairs with Barkann and Didinger and across the street to the NBC Sports–Philly studio. Andi and Jeff watched most of the pregame show and then they headed to the suites’ entrance back at the stadium with Andi’s dad, who had met them at the studio during the broadcast.
The security line was short, because the game had just kicked off and most fans were already inside. They took the elevator up to the suites’ level, and Jeff was not surprised to see another big spread of food lying just inside the door. They bypassed it to take their seats.
The Eagles were well on their way to winning the game 31–14 when Mr. Carillo suggested leaving to beat the traffic at the start of the fourth quarter. That was fine with Jeff. He was wiped out. It had been a fun day but a tiring one.
Ray Didinger had promised to keep everyone posted on whether he was able to reach Coach Johnston or Mr. Block the next day. Other than waiting to hear that news, there wasn’t much left to do.
They were home in time for the postgame show, and Jeff sat and watched his dad and his colleagues discuss the Eagles’ chances to add to the Super Bowl they had won at the end of the 2017 season.
At lunchtime the next day, Jeff and Andi both got a text from Jeff’s dad.
Just heard from Ray. He talked to Block. Helpful, he said. Nothing from Johnston so far. More later.
“Coach J won’t talk to him,” Andi said.
“Probably right,” Jeff said. “But Mr. Didinger didn’t think it mattered much.”
Andi smiled. “I’ll tell you when it will matter,” she said.
“When?”
“This afternoon at practice. I’ll bet you anything Johnston will figure your dad’s behind this somehow and he’ll blame you.”
Jeff hadn’t thought about that. He smiled, too. Then he laughed, remembering the words from one of his parents’ favorite Billy Joel golden oldies.
“Only the good die young,” he said.
It wasn’t as funny when he got to practice. Coach J didn’t say anything, but when the players lined up to stretch, Coach C came over and waved Jeff to come talk to him.
“What’s up, Coach?” Jeff asked, surprised. He liked Coach C. He didn’t appear to take himself nearly as seriously as the head coach did.
Coach C looked around for a moment as if he was about to do something he really didn’t want to do.
“I’m guessing you know that Coach J got a call from Ray Didinger today,” he said quietly, draping an arm around Jeff’s shoulders and steering him away from the other players, who were no doubt wondering what was going on.
Jeff hadn’t planned on this happening. For a moment, he was tempted to play dumb and say something like, “Ray who?”
But that clearly wasn’t going to fly.
“I didn’t know for sure that he’d call, but I guess I’m not surprised,” he said.
Then, feeling a little braver than he probably should have, he added, “As long as Coach J believes he did the right thing by cutting Andi, there’s no reason for him not to talk to Mr. Didinger.”
Now it was Coach C’s turn to look surprised.
“What I think Coach J wants to know is how Ray Didinger got involved in a story involving a sixth-grade soccer team.”
Jeff shrugged. “He and my dad work together. I thought you knew that.”
“So you told your dad about Andi being cut?” Coach C said, almost sounding accusing in his tone.
“Of course I did,” Jeff said. “Andi’s my friend, and my dad is, well, my dad.”
Coach C nodded.
“Well, my advice for right now is to say nothing to Coach J unless he brings it up,” he said. “He wanted to kick you off the team, but I think I’ve got him talked out of that. At least for now.”
Jeff didn’t say anything in response.
“Go finish stretching,” Coach C said. “And try to stay out of Coach J’s way the rest of practice.”
Jeff jogged back to his teammates. Coach J, he was convinced, was glaring at him. Jeff looked the other way.