Page 96 of Unwritten Rules
“I could break the plumbing. Make you feel like you’re at home.”
“Thanks, man. Appreciate the offer.” Zach looks around, at the couches, the enormous television, the tributes to the Union’s dynasty hanging as reminders of what’s expected of them. “How long did it take you to get used to all this?”
Brito rubs a hand over his chin faux-thoughtfully. “Probably when they actually signed a free agent rather than shipping them all out of town.”
“You never get nostalgic for the Coliseum?”
“No.” And it’s a definiteno. “They fed us all that stuff about the organization being cash-poor, but they still had billions and didn’t give us shit.”
“Yeah, I don’t think anyone here’s pretending they don’t have money.”
“They sure aren’t.” Brito laughs and tells Zach he’ll see him out on the field.
Maritza comes to collect him before his meeting with PR, giving him a look as if assessing the quality of his shave. The PR team is all suits, flashier than Oakland, who tended toward West Coast scruffy but more subdued than Miami.
Zach shakes their hands, and he expects Maritza to leave, but she sits in one of the chairs; it occurs to him he doesn’t actually know what she does other than shuttle around hardy plants and fragile egos. There are introductions, everyone stating their role—Zach saying, “Uh, catcher,” when they get to him—and Maritza is apparently a PR staffer who drew the short straw of having to meet him at LaGuardia.
“We always want to have these conversations with any player new to the organization,” one of the suits says.
Zach did a meeting with Stephanie back during his first year in Oakland, though that was more combing through his Twitter to make sure he wasn’t going to embarrass the Elephants or his mom. In Miami they did the same thing, asking if he could do Spanish-language media and then being pleased when he said that he was trying to learn.
“We like to get to know our players a bit. Find out what we can about them. Maritza will coordinate that.”
“Okay,” Zach says. It’s dry in the room, cold air blowing in from the vents, and he takes a miniature water bottle from the center of the table, twisting off the cap and drinking half of it.
“Mostly, we’d like to hear about any brand commitments that you have. Any potential opportunities for cross-pollination. Any causes—personal, political, whatever—you’re passionate about or involved with.”
“I did a commercial for an auto dealership in Miami last year.” There’s a pause, and Zach considers the shine of the large conference table they’re seated around.
“Does your wife or partner have any particular causes that she works with?” another asks.
“Uh, no. Look, I don’t do a lot of media beyond the post-game stuff. My hearing—it can sometimes be challenging to be on camera.”
“We can provide... I don’t actually know,” one of the suits says, before pausing. “We can look into whatever accommodations you might need.”
“Really,” Zach says, “I can talk to the beat reporters or whoever.”
“We generally prefer to handle things via the team.”
“In that case, I should let you know I agreed to do thisPlayers’ Updatearticle a couple weeks ago. Along with Garza—the Rivers pitcher. He has finger prosthetics.”
“Oh, that’s great,” one says. Several conversations happen at once, two of them talking to two others, a burst of chatter that makes it hard to pick out what anyone is saying.
Maritza slides over, turning her chair toward him so that she’s facing him. “We can do the intake interview some other time. It’s mostly just about hobbies, interests, whatever in your personal life you’re willing to share, what you’d prefer not to share, that kind of thing. Also, if you have social media, we need to review it.”
“I really just use a burner account to argue about basketball. That’s about it.”
“Well, if that’s your biggest secret, we can probably work with that.”
“I’m really pretty boring.”
“I mean, you’re a ballplayer. So, it’s either boring orinteresting, and interesting makes my job harder.”
“Well, um—” he feels a brief flicker of guilt at lying to her about it “—I wouldn’t want to do that.”
Around them, the chatter dies down, one of the suits finally waving to get everyone’s attention. “We appreciate you letting us know about the article. We’ll need to coordinate with Garza’s agent and your publicist.”
From there, it’s a procedural meeting, with Zach eventually calling Stephanie, putting her on the big video conference screen in the room, and going, “You all can work it out, I guess.”
