Page 69 of Bride Games

“You can promote it on X and other social media. Maybe air it on YouTube. Interview players or just talk about how much you enjoy the game.”

With her fork poised in mid-air, Paige said, “And let them berate me even more? It’s bad enough reading it but you know they’ll comment in real time or call in and trash me if I go live.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Zach shoved a second piece of bacon in his mouth. “This is cooked perfectly.”

Paige’s mind raced. She hadn’t really watched that many podcasts. Of course, she had seen the New Heights podcast by Jason and Travis Kelce, a few female empowerment podcasts, and a political podcast that went off the rails. She wasn’t sure if she could handle more criticism.

Zach seemed to read her mind. “Think about it. Think of a catchy name and—and—just be honest with listeners. Tell them you didn’t know anything about sports when you began, learned on the job, and ended up loving it. Be humble.”

Paige repeated his key words. “Honest. Humble.”

Zach snapped his fingers. “Yes. Everyone respects people who admit when they’re wrong or who say they’re still learning?—”

Paige wiped her mouth with a napkin. Eyes wide, she said, “I’ve got it. I’ll call it Humble Pie with Paige. Maybe you’re onto something, Zach. Maybe I simply need to admit that I didn’t know what I was doing but I truly learned to love sports. Is that what you’re thinking?”

Leaning over to kiss her with egg on his chin, Zach said, “See, you’ve already got the perfect name and concept. You don’t need my help.” He nodded. “Cool name, by the way. You’ll need a big logo or sign as a backdrop if you want to share it on social media.”

“Good idea. Maybe Emma can come up with something. She helps authors design marketing material. I mean, she’s only getting married soon.” Paige drained her coffee cup. “I’m really excited about this idea, Zach. It just might help me get my good name back.”

Zach rubbed his hands together. “Since that dilemma’s decided”—Zach started singing the eighties song—“‘Should I stay or should I go’?” by the Clash.

Paige giggled. “You’re a nut but you’re my nut.” Reaching for his hand, she asked, “What do you think?”

62

Over the next few days, Paige studied a sampling of sports podcasts and live Facebook interviews as if she were learning a new language. She wanted a combination of sports and inspirational, honest podcasts. She had already drafted a list of questions for herself and for her, hopefully, more than two viewers. The thought of speaking directly to fans again was both exhilarating and scary. But she didn’t have a choice. She was ready. Almost. Probably.

Taking a deep breath, Paige glanced around Mr. Hales’ boring office.I’ve got to do this in my office and during a time when our talent is on the air. I don’t want anyone to know if my podcast flops.Paige paced as she considered her options.Oh, who cares? Everyone will know since it’ll stream on social media and YouTube, plus my life can’t get much worse.

Determined to win back sports fans—even though she didn’t know what she was doing—Paige snapped her fingers as she thought of the perfect background. She told her assistant to hold her calls and stepped down the hallway to her familiar, cozy office. She closed the door and rummaged through a few boxes that were stacked in the corner. The containers held coveted sports mementos she had collected over the past year. A fewwere already displayed on her credenza but certainly not all. The constant travel to games and inevitable break up with Trent had taken a toll. Paige took a deep breath as she held a framed, signed Chiefs jersey. She removed a floral painting from the wall and hung the red and gold jersey in its place. Within thirty minutes, she had replaced nearly every photo and painting in her office with posters of her favorite teams, enlarged photos with players, including her workout with Cheetah himself, Tyreek Hill, that Zach had taken during her first interview. She added a fun photo wearing the same sunglasses as Bengals quarterback Joe Burrow. Both had donned fur coats and made the same pose while on the field. Paige smiled at the memories as she unwrapped the crowning jewel, a signed Superbowl football. She gently placed it atop an acrylic holder. Standing back, Paige crossed her arms and stared at the new sports background, hoping it would lend credibility to her bruised ego and career.I just might be able to pull this off.Paige felt her cellphone vibrate in her pocket. She glanced at the screen hoping it was from Emma.

Hey, Paige - I just emailed a suggested logo for your podcast. I hope you like it. I think it’s perfect. Go get ’em, girl. ~Em

Paige couldn’t open the attachment fast enough. When she clicked on the image, a smile spread across her face. This is perfect. She quickly texted Emma a thank you with a string of hearts and smiley faces.I’ve got to get this to a printer so I can start my first episode. Maybe I’ll do it tonight before I lose my nerve.

Paige begged a printer the station used frequently to enlarge Emma’s logo, which included the name,Humble Piewith Paige Daniels. The podcast name was overlayed on a huge slice of pumpkin pie.

After the printer made a 27 x 40-inch poster, Paige raced to Hobby Lobby for a wooden frame. She returned to the station, propped her large podcast image next to the football jersey, and watched the clock until the anchors, meteorologist, and Stan the Man were in the studio for the five and six o’clock evening news. She knew that would give her ample time to be under the radar of nosy employees. She found an unused microphone and earphones in the editing bay, and made her way back to her office, heart keeping beat with every step. Paige pondered whether she should stream live on social media or prerecord the podcast.What the hell? I’m going for it. I’ll go live.

She quickly texted Zach, Emma, Eli, and Nigel to ensure a few people would watch and respond to her virgin podcast. As soon as the hallways were quiet, Paige refilled her coffee, powdered her face, refreshed her lipstick, and combed her hair. It was as if she were going back on the anchor set. She wanted to be seen as the professional everyone remembered. Pulse racing, Paige closed her office door, positioned the microphone, and put the earphones on.

She took a deep breath and began. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to the first episode ofHumble Pie with Paige Daniels.” Paige forced a shaky smile. “You may know me as the former evening television anchor at ATV 10—or as a sideline sports reporter covering many NFL games and interviewing players. I’d like to tell you a little about the latter. Last year, whenI began covering football….” Paige paused when she noticed a few comments appear on the screen. “We already have our first commenter. And another one.” Paige squinted. “Let’s read these together, viewers.”

“You suck,” typed out a cowboy-hat-wearing male who added several angry emoticons.

Paige immediately wondered if she had made a grave error as she read the next comment featuring a cat as the profile picture. “You’re a freaking fraud. You don’t know anything about football.”

Tears filled Paige’s eyes.Oh, my God. This podcast is over before it even began. I want to quit now.She swallowed.I can’t quit. I have to tough it out, just like the players when they’re behind in a game.Paige forced herself to say, “Thank you for your comments. I want to be honest with y?—”

Another viewer chimed in before she could finish. “As a woman who doesn’t give a flying fig about football, I think you’re brave to put yourself out there. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you,” Paige said, as she clung to her first helpful feedback. “I appreciate your support.” Buoyed by the positive comment, she held her head high and turned the camera toward the sports mementos behind her while also scanning her trophy wall. “As you can see, I was fortunate enough to attend many games and interview stellar athletes. I’ve really enjoyed this gig, but at first, I must say I was in over my?—”

The next angry comment ruined the moment. “Stick to whatever you’re good at, lady. By the way, it ain’t sports.”

Paige stared at her coffee cup, desperately wishing she could spike it with Bailey’s. Tears threatened, but she wasn’t about to cry. Not during her first podcast—nor any of them, hopefully. She took a deep breath and decided on a new tact.

“Everyone, I respect your opinion and voice, but you know what, I’m going to tell you a story. A true story. This isn’t goingto be a fairytale, so sit back and get comfy. When my boss, the station manager, asked me to go on the road and cover football last year, I was terrified. I mean, I was sick to my stomach for a week. I couldn’t sleep and tried to talk him out of it. I confided in him that I didn’t know anything about sports. Do you know what he said? My boss said he had faith in me. He told me I’d learn the game and earn everyone’s respect. And I truly thought I had accomplished that goal since many players and fans enjoyed my stories profiling athletes.” She took a deep breath, adding, “Clearly, I have more work to do.”

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