Page 15 of Bombshells
“Everyone in this room has risen to the top of his and her field. That is commendable. But I want to take a moment to illustrate that it means a different thing to be a Bruiser than to be a Bombshell. The salary cap this year for a men’s team is fifty-two million dollars. The salary cap in the women’s league is two hundred and seventy thousand.”
Someone whistles under his breath. And I see Anton wake up his phone beside me. He opens the calculator app and divides two hundred seventy thousand by twenty-three.
I already know the answer, because I worked this equation myself. It’s $11,739. That’s the average salary on my team. It works out to a few hundred dollars a week for the duration of the season.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers under his breath.
“Now, gentlemen. I will never tell you that you don’t deserve your fame and glory. You sweat for every new rung of this crazy ladder that you’ve climbed. Your achievement is not arbitrary. The reward, however, is. Some people in this room make six or seven million dollars a year. And some of them make eleven grand. Because that is how the screwy world we live in values your contributions.”
Rebecca pulls no punches. The room is so silent that I can hear my own heartbeat.
“Who gets to decide, though?” she asks. “It’s so arbitrary. Football, basketball, baseball, and hockey all do well on TV. Soccer is not a money sport in this country, but it is in most other parts of the world. I’m sure my husband could draw us up a multivariable equation that explains where the money comes from, and where it goes.”
I think I just fell a little in love with Rebecca Rowley Kattenberger.
“As much as I’d like to change the bare facts of the pay equality in hockey, I can’t. Not this year, anyway. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make a few changes and contributions.”
She paces at the front. “I’m not allowed to pay my female players amounts exceeding the salary cap. But there are a few benefits we’ve granted to all employees of Brooklyn Hockey LLC. And these benefits accrue to everyone who works here, because that means that it’s not a special stipend for the women. Number one: more amenities in the locker rooms. And healthy smoothies are now always available in the players’ lounge.”
Everyone cheers.
Huh. I guess millionaires like a free smoothie as much as the rest of us normal people.
“Number two: all employees will carry a Kattenberger 5000 phone, provided by our organization.”
Now the women hoot, because we’ve heard about the Katt phone, and we want one.
“And this is my favorite new benefit—every hour you spend on charity work for the Brooklyn Sports Foundation will be compensated at twenty-five dollars per hour. And we’re going to do some great things this year. Georgia and I have some big ideas, and we’re going to share them with you.”
The blond publicist stands up. “That’s right, guys! We’ve done a lot for Brooklyn charities over the past few years. This year we’ve got a new one. Hang on. Let me just…” She points a clicker at the projector, but nothing happens.
“Let’s guess what it is!” one of the men calls. “Save the whales!”
“Can we sponsor a dog rescue?” Anton calls out. “I love puppies.”
“That’s because you are one,” Rebecca says, and his teammates hoot and laugh.
The screen finally lights up. It reads: Hockey is for Everyone. “Each year we participate in this promotion,” Georgia says. “But now we’re going to take it further.” She clicks the remote, and the words fade out and back in again, until it reads: Sports are for Everyone. Bring it, Brooklyn!
“When we say ‘Hockey is for everyone,’ it’s wishful thinking,” Georgia continues. “Of course, we welcome all kinds of fans. That will never change. But think of all the boys and girls in Brooklyn who will never get a chance to skate. There are very few skating rinks in New York City. And we can’t give up enough of our ice time to make a real dent. But there are more than fifteen swimming pools in Brooklyn, and yet most of New York’s children never get swimming lessons. There are unused basketball courts and soccer fields, too.”
Rebecca chimes in. “‘Sports are for everyone’ probably seems obvious to all the fitness freaks here today. Which is basically everyone but me.”
“We love you anyway!” someone calls out.
“Oh, I know you do!” she says with a smile. “But seriously—the kids of New York don’t have enough opportunities to move their bodies. And guess what? Their health will suffer as a result.
“The men and women of Brooklyn hockey have a special power as role models. You can show boys and girls in your community another way to be in the world. How it feels to be part of a team. How your body feels different after a hard practice. How your muscles learn to do things that seemed impossible just a few weeks before.”
She clicks the presentation forward. “This year, I want everyone in this room to think of himself or herself as an ambassador for sport. Georgia and I have created several new programs to help us accomplish this goal. And I think every one of you can make a unique contribution. There are signup sheets on the wall.”
At the side of the room, Georgia reveals a whiteboard with several categories on it. Skating lessons, swim lessons, soccer clinics, etcetera.
“Look, guys. I know that time constraints are real. You have a big job to do here in this building, and you’re all dedicated to your own success. That’s what I love about you. So the scheduling is going to be tricky. That’s why I’m also hiring a dozen coaches to run these programs for us, so that you’ll only have to drop in when you’re in town…”
A hand shoots up. It’s one of the Bruisers. “Are we really going to teach these kids to play soccer? What if we don’t know the rules?”
“The YMCA coaches will help you out. And if you really can’t mingle with kids, you can stick to the black-tie fundraisers. Your famous faces always bring in the cash.”
