Page 21 of Power Play

“What does that mean for the broadcasting team?” I ask.

With Charlie and Doug gone, we’re operating with bare bones. Down two people with a game in twenty-four hours and no one to replace them.

“Bradley is being promoted to head play-by-play announcer. He told me he’s willing to handle it solo,” Helen says. “I have the co-announcer position posted on the league’s internal hiring board, and with how well the team performed last season, I expect applications from several interested parties.”

“I announced for my college team,” Bradley explains. “I might be a little rusty, but I can handle it.”

“Piper, you’ll be our lead rinkside reporter for the rest of the season,” Helen tells me. “I’ve seen the work you put in. The dedication and time you spend on being knowledgeable about the players’ strengths and weaknesses. You know them like you know the back of your hand, and it should’ve been your role from the moment we hired you.”

“What?” I whisper.

“If you want the position, it’s yours. You’ll start on camera next week.”

Shock rolls through me. I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. If I want to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t a dream butreal life. The room might be spinning, but it doesn’t matter.

Lead reporter.

The only job I’ve ever wanted since I landed in DC, bright-eyed and ambitious with big dreams.

I’ve put in years of work with unpaid gigs and small paychecks. Road trips across the country with teams who had losing records and interviewing players who didn’t know my name. Having sweaty jerseys thrown at me and telling people—repeatedly—I’m a reporter, not a fan, when I hang out in the tunnel during intermission.

Spots like this are coveted in the league. Positions people inherit and don’t retire from until late into their career. Some of my role models have fifty years of experience in the industry. It’s rare to get promoted out of the gate, but I know I can do it.

I know I’m good in front of the camera. I stay cool under pressure and pivot when a wrench gets thrown in my plans. I spend hours researching, wanting to make sure what I’m asking is unique. Inquisitive, but not prying. A conversation, not a lecture.

I know there are going to be people out there who think I’m underqualified, andhellI can’t wait to prove them wrong.

“Thank you so much,” I finally say, finding my words and suppressing my emotions—the things that make mesensitiveandweak. “It’s an honor to represent the Stars organization, and I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. You’ll have a formal offer letter in your inbox tomorrow morning. Home and away games are included in the contract, with an extension possible after the playoffs.”Helen folds her hands across her desk, her fingers drumming on the wood. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I’m still catching up.” My laugh is disbelieving as I try to process the last five minutes. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“You know where I’ll be if that changes. My door is always open,” Helen says, and I spring to my feet.

When I’m safely in the hallway, a squeal escapes me. Before I can sink into the celebration of my first win in what feels likeyears, a hand rests on my shoulder. The touch is hesitant. I glance behind me and see Bradley frowning.

“You knew what they said.” His jaw tenses. He pulls back his palm and shuffles backward. “You weren’t surprised when Helen mentioned it.”

“No. I wasn’t.” I give him a sad smile. “I was outside the door, and, after overhearing Doug and Charlie, I couldn’t bring myself to go in there and face them. Maybe it was cowardly to run from it, but I?—”

“It wasn’t cowardly,” Bradley says sharply, malice dripping from his tone. “I’m the coward. I tried to get them to stop, but I wasn’t firm enough for them to listen. He was right to tell me to go to HR, and I’m glad I did.”

“What? Who told you to go to HR?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is I owe you an apology too. I’m sorry for what was said in Texas. About what happened more times than I’d care to admit. I should’ve spoken up sooner, and I’m just as guilty as they are.”

Over a decade in the world of sports, and I’ve never had a man apologize for his behavior. It’s alwaysshe’s too sensitiveand neverI fucked up.It was a jokeversuswhat I said was wrong.

Hearing Bradley own up to transgressions he wasn’t directly responsible for gives me the tiniest glimmer of hope for the future of women in the league and beyond.

“Thank you, Bradley. You did the right thing, and it means so much to me you put your ass on the line.”

“I’m really happy for you, Piper. You deserve the reporter spot. I’m much more comfortable on the mic calling the plays, not trying to wrangle players for interviews.”

“I’ll probably embarrass myself on television, but we’ll see how it goes. I need to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I step around the corner for some privacy, fingers trembling as I type out a message in our group chat.

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