“Yes. You’re going to attend media training where you’ll learn how to handle hostile questions without losing your temper.”
“I don’t lose my temper.”
“You threw a man into a barricade yesterday.”
“That wasn’t temper. That was a calculated response to a threat.”
“Calculated.” Noah’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. “You calculated that assaulting someone at a charity event was the appropriate response?”
“I calculated that getting between him and Tate was necessary.” I shrug, a grin lifting my lips. “The barricade part was improvisation.”
“Improvisation that’s going to cost you at least twenty thousand in fines and probably a three-game suspension.”
“Worth it.”
“Is it? Is protecting your teammate’s feelings for thirty seconds worth three games of salary and potential criminal charges?”
I lean forward. “You think this is about feelings? The guy was attacking Tate because of his sexuality. He is a gay hater. You think I should have just stood there and let him get away with it?”
“I think there were a dozen better ways to handle it that didn’t involve violence.”
“Name one.”
“Alert security. Step between them. Use your platform to call out the behavior publicly afterward. Film it yourself for evidence.” Noah counts off on his fingers. “Any of those options would have been better than what you did.”
“Slower, too. And less effective.”
“But still legal.”
Dammit. This whole conversation is going in circles because we’re arguing from completely different positions.
He’s arguing from a place of PR strategy and legal liability.
I’m arguing from a place of not letting my teammate get harassed by a drunk bigot.
Neither of us is going to convince the other.
Noah closes his laptop. “The call with the league starts in twenty minutes. I’m going to present our position: you made an error in judgment while attempting to protect a teammate from hate speech. You recognize the inappropriateness of your response and you’re taking steps to handle similar situations better in the future. The team supports your intentions while condemning your actions.”
“That’s a lot of words to say absolutely nothing.”
“That’s PR.” He stands up and puts the documents back into his folder. “Wait here. I’ll be back after the call to brief you on next steps.”
“Can’t wait.”
He pauses at the door, looks back at me. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person. I think you’re impulsive and reckless and have terrible judgment. But not bad.”
I chuckle. “Shit, that’s almost a compliment.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He walks out of the room leaving me in the conference room with my cold coffee and my carefully crafted bullshit non-apology.
I pull out my phone. About thirty texts from teammates have been blowing up our team chat. Most of them ask if I’m okay, afew ask what the hell I was thinking. One from Tate that says,Thanks for having my back yesterday. Sorry it turned into this mess.
I type back a text to him directly.
Not your fault. Guy was an asshole.
