Love from Left Field (8 page)

He laughed. “Are you asking me to share team secrets? We’re competitors, Miranda.”

She smiled. “Considering you’ve been interviewed about your strategy and talked to several team owners about it, I highly doubt it’s a state secret.”

“Why don’t you ask your new consultant, Wainright? He’s the one who advised us.”

“You used Lucas Wainright for your changes?”

“Some of them. Look, we’re a small market team. Houston doesn’t seem small market but Texas is football country. We have fans and the media but we still can’t compete. Even so, we were falling behind financially and in the win column because we couldn’t sign the big players. We had to figure out a new way, a combination of the right players, changes on the field, and streamlining our operations.”

“But you need the players to bring in the fans.” Seamus’s voice echoed in her mind, only it was her voice speaking the words.

“No, you need wins. Big players can bring in fans initially but if you don’t win, the attention is gone quickly. Your goal is to win more. You need to find a way to do that. If you do, the fans will follow, along with sponsors and media deals.”

She sagged in her chair. “We got to the playoffs last year and our season ticket sales are even lower this year. It didn’t carry over.”

He sighed. “That’s where the big player comes in. It brings the fans to the gate but the wins keep them there. You’re going to need to build some trust with your fans that you can win without the big name. It won’t happen overnight. In fact, we had to accept a few losing seasons to build up to a winning one. The strategy is not for the faint of heart, but it’s working all over the league. Seamus never wanted to hear it.”

She nodded, more to herself than Tom. “It’s not the big splash. Thanks for your time, Tom.”

“Any time. Oh, and Miranda? One last thing. Wainright knows what he’s doing. Listen to him. And we’re thinking of your father.” Tom hung up, leaving a dial tone in her ear.

She placed the phone back in the cradle, thoughts racing through her mind. Maybe Lucas had ideas that might work. If she could persuade him to actually partner with her, to not just be an observer in the process, would he go for it or be like her father and ignore her?

L
ucas headed back
to his small office and closed the door. Now that he’d be spending more time there, maybe he should consider personalizing it a bit. Of course, he hadn’t expected to be in this office, or even Savannah, for more than a few weeks. If Roger didn’t agree with his deal with Miranda, he might not be here long enough to get a comfortable chair, much less any other personalization.

He sat in his chair and studied the phone. What had he been thinking, making the agreement with Miranda? There’d be snow in Savannah in July before she met the conditions, unless she got a major infusion of cash. And who would be so foolish to invest in a team on the brink?

It didn’t matter. Seamus Callahan would never let Miranda make any changes to his team, at least no changes that would make a difference. He might be sick now and not in the picture, but Callahan was the ultimate control freak. It wouldn’t be long before he was sticking his nose in with the team. Satisfied Lucas could defend his recommendation, he picked up the phone and called his boss.

That plan didn’t work.

“Are you kidding me? Can Miranda do this, especially with Seamus Callahan in the hospital?” Roger’s voice echoed through the phone, piercing Lucas’s eardrum.

“Weren’t you the one who said to not underestimate Miranda? Maybe they can pull this off and make the payment. And isn’t that the point – to be financially viable?”

The snort of derision was clearly audible. “Look, Callahan has screwed that team. Miranda would have to be a genius to turn this around.”

“What could it hurt? You said it yourself. They don’t have a chance. So what’s the harm?” Lucas lowered his voice to a more soothing tone.

Lucas held his breath as he waited for the commissioner’s response. Only the light breathing indicated they hadn’t been disconnected. Lucas leaned back in the chair and waited, not letting Roger pull him in by letting the silence linger.

Finally, the other man sighed. “You’re right, but I don’t like this. This is our chance to be done with Callahan. He’s been a giant pain in my ass for ten years.”

“Most of the owners can be pains in the ass. Callahan is no different.”

Roger grunted. “Trust me, Callahan’s a nightmare.”

“Well, Miranda’s in charge. She’s only been president for about a year or so. She’s open to changes.”

And you’d love to get Seamus out of the League because he challenges you constantly
. Lucas added silently.

But he’d heard the unspoken threat buried in the words. The alternatives were ugly and spelled disaster for the Callahans. The last team that Lucas had worked with was forced into a sale, thanks to an owner who had alienated the other teams and had placed their team in dire economic straits. Seamus ranked right up there in attitude and likeability, which was to say no one liked him either. And the business situation with the Knights made the last job look like a picnic.

“Get it done, Wainright.”

The dial tone droned in his ear, sounding like the final buzzer at the end of a game.

*

Lucas sat in
the owner’s box, gazing sightlessly out over the empty stadium. It was barely March but getting warm in Savannah, almost ready for baseball season. But the Knights were nowhere near ready, nor would they ever be if his analysis was on target.

Which made the deal with Miranda a moot point, making the commissioner satisfied for now. So why did Lucas feel so uncomfortable?

He leaned back against the seat, resting his head against the wall and closed his eyes. The box hadn’t changed that much in the decade or so since he’d last been here. Maybe a new paint job? Seats might have had new cushions. And the windows that separated the box from the masses looked new. But with his eyes closed, he could almost feel his father sitting in the front row, eagerly waiting the start of the season.

No matter what their chances, his father loved Opening Day. He said it was like a new start, a new life, and the possibilities were endless. Of course now his father was dead, almost ten years now, and there were no new beginnings. Not for him and his father. No, the last Opening Day was marred by their argument and his refusal to come to the park, standing by his father’s side for the ceremonial first pitch. He didn’t even remember what he had done that day, only that he avoided even watching the game, any game, running as far as he could from his destiny.

A soft snick had him opening his eyes to see Miranda standing just inside the box, the door shut behind her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her voice was soft, as if sensing the memories in the box.

She probably had her own demons here, considering her father wouldn’t make it to Opening Day and she was struggling to tread water amidst financial and team pressures, not to mention family issues.

He shook his head. “No, you’re not. I was just thinking.”

She settled in the chair next to him, traces of her subtle perfume teasing his senses and inspiring thoughts entirely inappropriate to their location, not to mention the situation they found themselves in.

Silence hung in the air for long moments as he wrestled with his past. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

She shifted in her chair. “How so?”

He liked that she didn’t pretend to not know what he was talking about and didn’t try to fill the silence with inane babble. Instead, she waited patiently for him to continue.

He shook his head to clear the ghosts. “Never mind. Did you want to talk about something?”

Something flashed in her eyes, sympathy maybe, quickly masked by a business facade. “Did you speak with the commissioner?”

He grimaced but nodded. “I did. He had concerns.”

She snorted. “I’ll bet.” She paused, looking out at the field. “I used to love to come here every day. I loved game day the best – the excitement of the crowds, the chants, the rowdiness of the park. So different from my usual days.”

“Beauty pageants didn’t get all physical, with cat fights backstage? I know quite a few guys who’d be disappointed to hear that.”

“Are you one of them? Sure, girls could be rough but it was sneakier stuff. Stealing makeup, hiding wardrobe or talent props. On the surface, everything was sweetness and light but under it all, girls could be vicious. But baseball, it’s all out there. A player gets pissed and he charges the mound. Fans yell their opinions. Everyone is honest and up front.”

“I never pictured you as a baseball kind of girl.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be in baseball either. Didn’t you want to do something else, anything else?”

He flushed, remembered anger from his past arguments with his father clouding his mind.

Desperately wanting to avoid any talk of the past, he spoke more harshly than he wanted. “People grow up and change. Can I help you with something?”

She quickly masked the flash of hurt and drew upright. “I spoke with Tom in Houston. He said you consulted with their turnaround and had some good ideas.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at, Miranda?”

“I have some ideas and I’d like you to partner with us on our turnaround.”

A
ll in all,
Lucas reacted about as well as Miranda had expected. First he stared, then he shook his head and laughed. Unfortunately, the sound wasn’t one of true humor or amusement. At least she thought it wasn’t. Lucas wasn’t the same boy she knew a decade ago. He had grown harder and more cynical about the world. She mourned for the lost boy and damned herself for still having that crush, the secret desire to find the boy hidden deep inside the hard coating that Lucas donned to keep everyone away from him.

But, as everyone was so fond of reminding her, this was business and personal feelings had no place here.

A knock at the door had her looking up. Cole stood in the doorway, a tablet in his hands. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I doubt they’re worth it. Come on in.” She waved him to a seat and saved her file. “Do you remember your proposal last year, about the way we look at players?”

Cole frowned and looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, your father rejected it.”

“Well, we’re stuck and need to do something. We can’t hire the big names and we need wins to bring in fans and money. We need to find another way.” She gestured to her monitor. “I pulled this out and started reading it. It echoes what I’ve been hearing from so many other teams.”

Cole settled back in his chair and propped a foot on his knee. “Irrelevant. We never implemented it and now we don’t have time to do it right. Not to mention we need to adjust our whole way of playing on the field.”

“To do what right?” Lucas’s voice came from the doorway. “Sorry I’m late but I wasn’t aware we had a meeting scheduled.”

“We don’t. This is an informal discussion.” Cole snapped.

Lucas only smiled and sat in the other chair next to Cole, who scowled and glared at Miranda. “What are we talking about?”

Miranda folded her hands in front of her. “I’m glad you could join us, actually. As we previously discussed, I’d like to explore some small ball techniques that other teams are using to succeed. If I recall, you helped Houston determine their path, along with a few other teams.”

Lucas sighed. “I told you that you don’t have the infrastructure or the time to do it right.”

Her smile never wavered. “But there are things we can do. As you pointed out, layoffs and other cost cutting measures won’t have enough impact on our bottom line. All the big names are already settled with their teams and won’t move until closer to the All-Star break, if at all. Not that we could afford them anyway.” She spread her hands. “We need revenue and there is only one way to get it. Wins. So we have to work with what we have.”

Cole leaned forward. “Big names are the initial draw, but you think we can adjust our style of play during spring training and start winning games? Miranda, we’re starting too late. We have too many people to convince, not enough time.”

Lucas’s gaze was steady on hers, a faint challenge in them. She stiffened and her face felt brittle from holding the smile too long.

Nevertheless, she remained pleasant. “Well, then we have no time to lose.” She stood. “I want a full assessment of our players and how they’ll fit into this model. I want to know if we have anyone who isn’t on board. I’ll deal with them myself. And find me players that fit our gaps and fit this plan.”

Cole stared at her, disbelief in his eyes. “Miranda, what will Seamus do?”

“My father is no longer in charge of the team. Until further notice, I’m the boss. And no one will discuss this with him. If he contacts you, send him my way. Remember, we have an advantage. He’s not going to be coming into the office and I’ll handle updating him. Now, can you please move on this?”

Cole stood. “What about the coaching staff?”

Lucas cleared his throat. “You have analysts, don’t you? I’d get my ducks in a row with them and their data and present it to the staff in person. How far along are you with your data?”