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“I also asked that we get parking spaces closer to the stadium on game days for safety reasons,” Emily continues. “It’s usually well after dark by the time we get changed and head out to our cars. Since that request was denied and actually laughed at, I then asked if the team could provide security for the girls and walk us out to our vehicles at the end of a game. They expected us to park miles away with the rest of the fans and didn’t see the problem with a bunch of young women walking out to their cars after dark, in a parking lot filled with drunk fans from both teams, who may or may not be in a good mood, depending on the score. That was also denied, because they didn’t have the funds to provide us with extra security.”
Remembering the gated-off assigned parking spaces that required an ID badge to enter that I and every other player had, five feet from the entrance to the stadium, it makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. And it wasn’t even just for the players. Our trainers and the one guy whose only job is to put our game-day jerseys on a hanger and hang them on the front of our fucking lockers got to park in that area as well.
“I asked for a small handful of things over the course of that year, none of which I thought were extravagant, out of the ordinary, or anything we didn’t deserve,” Emily continues, the passion for what she believed in and the frustration that she couldn’t succeed loud and clear in her voice. “The final straw was when I asked that the team provide water for us at every home game, after one of my girls passed out from dehydration. I didn’t even ask for water at away games.”
“What the hell were you supposed to do for water?” I ask angrily, taking a few deep breaths and trying to remember that as Emily’s “boyfriend,” I would probably already know this information. “Because… you know, Jeanie will want to hear this part.”
Wow, real smooth, dipshit.
“Oh, if we forgot to bring our own water with us, we were told we needed to wait in line at one of the vendors and purchase a bottle of water along with every other fan.” Emily smiles through the pain of her words like a fucking trooper.
Jesus Christ… all I had to do was think about being thirsty, and no less than three trainers would be up my ass, jumping around like eager puppies, trying to be the first one to shove a water battle through my face mask and squirt water into my mouth.
“It’s super fun when fans think they can take liberties with us, because we’re all dolled up in uniform, walking amongst everyone. I lost count how many times someone grabbed one of our asses or accidentally brushed their arms up against our chests without an apology.”
“That is appalling,” Jeanie says with a disgusted shake of her head, while I wonder how hard it would be to get the name of every man who thought he could touch Emily without her permission and beat the fucking piss out of them.
“So, yes,” Emily sighs, finally unclenching her fingers, and crossing her arms together on top of the table, “I told Ellen Westwood she could take my pom-poms and shove them up her fat, lazy ass when she told me it wasn’t in the budget to provide one bottle of water to forty girls at ten home games. Like it was in my budget on the pathetic salary they paid us, on top of my waitressing and dog walking jobs. But I still did it anyway, pulling change out of my couch cushions so my girls were taken care of every week. I am sorry I was so disrespectful to someone I looked up to and admired for so long. If I had to go back and do it again, I would be more careful with my words. I still would have told her to shove my pom-poms up her ass, but I’d probably take out the fat and lazy part next time. She is a pretty hard worker, and she has a great ass.”
And just like that, Emily’s sarcasm lightens a tense situation, making all of us share a laugh, even after Jeanie fumed through the entire explanation and I almost ripped a few rungs off the back of Emily’s chair.
Stupid me, I trusted Tyler a little too much, and I should have known better. His family is friends with Ellen Westwood’s family. They all belong to the same country club or some shit, and when he told me he had an extensive conversation with Ellen over tennis, I believed what he said to be the truth.
