Cover-up (6 page)

Stevie could see that the memory was still pretty vivid for Kerns—even eight years later. “One thing you have to understand about Eddie,” he added. “He's never afraid on a football field. People miss that sometimes because he went to Harvard and uses SAT words when he talks. But there's no one more fearless than Eddie Brennan.”

That quote, Stevie realized, would need to go very high in his story.

Kerns was telling Stevie that he and Brennan had bet dinner on the outcome of the game, when his phone rang. “Gotcha,” Kerns said to whoever was on the other end.

“They're wrapping up out there,” he said. “Have you got enough?”

“To start a book,” Stevie said, thanking him.

Kerns laughed and gave Stevie his cell phone number. “Anything I can help you with during the week, give me a call. I'd give you some Ravens gear, but I doubt you want to be seen with it around here.”

Stevie laughed. “Imagine what Li'l Donny would say. He'd think there was a media conspiracy to get the Dreams.”

Kerns nodded. “You really are sharp for fourteen,” he said. “USTV will be sorry they went for the pretty boy over the smart kid.”

They were walking out of the locker room at that point. “Thanks,” Stevie said. “But the pretty girl is very,
very
smart. She can probably cover for the pretty boy.”

“Won't be the same,” Kerns said, shaking hands as he prepared to duck into another room. “She'll miss you. The show will miss you.”

Stevie could only hope he was right. Especially about Susan Carol missing him.

6:
FLAG ON THE PLAY

THE RAVENS
were starting to make their way up the tunnel as Stevie was heading back to the field, and Stevie was struck by just how huge they were. He walked past Jonathan Ogden, the team's six-foot-nine-inch, 345-pound All-Pro left tackle, and felt as if he had stepped into a hole. He must have been staring, because Ogden smiled at him and said, “I'm only this tall on Tuesdays.”

Reaching the field, Stevie could see Ravens quarterback Steve McNair still surrounded by a number of reporters. Some of the Dreams were starting to drift onto the field to start their session. He spotted Bobby and Tamara talking to a slender man with straight black hair who was wearing a shirt that said “Dream the Dreams” on it.

“Stevie, this is someone you not only want to meet but you
need
to meet,” Kelleher said.

“Dewey Blanton,” the man said, giving him a smile and a warm handshake. “I do PR—at least I try to—for the Dreams.”

He had an easygoing manner that made Stevie feel comfortable right away.

“I told Dewey about your interview with Darin Kerns,” Kelleher said. “He's going to try to grab you a minute with Brennan toward the end of the session.”

Blanton was nodding. “He finishes on the podium about eleven-forty-five, and then we're going to take him to a taping room under the stands. He's got to do some pieces with CBS and then ESPN and, finally, a couple minutes with USTV.”

“Who from USTV?” Stevie asked, realizing he sounded semi-panicked when he asked.

“Easy, Stevie,” Kelleher said. “It's them, but it'll be brief.”

“If you just walk with me back to the room, when he finishes all that, I'll get you a minute with him,” Blanton said.

Stevie really didn't want to see Susan Carol and her new favorite dude in action. “Maybe I can just get a question in while he's on the podium?” he said.

Kelleher was shaking his head emphatically. “First of all, you won't get a good answer up there,” he said. “Second of all, you'll be sharing the story with five hundred other people. Out of the question. This way, you'll get a couple quotes on a story no one else will have at the Super Bowl. That's pretty rare.”

“Okay then,” Stevie said, squaring his shoulders, ready to do what he had to do for his story. “Thank you, Mr. Blanton. Where should I meet you?”

“I'll be standing right behind the podium when Eddie comes off,” Blanton said. “You meet me there and just walk with us. I'll get you through all the security so you can walk up the players' ramp with us. Gotta run—see you later.”

Stevie turned to Bobby. “What are you writing today?”

Kelleher grinned. “Are you kidding? Li'l Donny. He's already thrown one tantrum over where his team is practicing, and now I hear he's threatening to boycott the NFL dinner on Friday night. Bisciotti told me the rest of the owners are hoping he
does
boycott.”

Steve Bisciotti was the Ravens' owner. Stevie had read a couple of stories the previous week about how he was the anti-Meeker—equally rich but without the attitude. Meeker was known for demanding that everyone who worked for him call him Mr. Meeker. Bisciotti was Steve to everyone. The contrast made for a great story.

Stevie spent most of the next hour wandering around, listening to various members of the Dreams talking about how much respect they had for the Ravens. He listened to Coach Skyler Kaplow for a minute but gave up when Kaplow said his team would win the game on Sunday “if it's the Lord's will.” Kaplow was extremely religious and was frequently seen crossing himself on the sidelines before big plays. He was a great coach, but the gesture really bugged Stevie's dad. Every time he saw it, Bill Thomas would say, “For crying out loud, Kaplow, if God is watching this game he should be fired!”

Shortly before 11:45, he wandered toward the back of Eddie Brennan's podium, only to find the inevitable security guard blocking the entrance to the roped-off area behind the podium. Just as inevitably, the guard stepped aside when he saw the CBS credential dangling from his neck. Stevie still didn't like it that TV had such power, but he had to concede that he could get used to wielding that power pretty quickly.

Dewey Blanton was waiting at the podium stairs with several more security guards and a gaggle of people wearing various TV credentials. Susan Carol and Whitsitt were nowhere in sight.

“Where are, you know…”

Blanton, reading his mind and his discomfort, answered before he finished. “All the TV talent are waiting in the back,” he said. “Lesley Visser's doing CBS, Berman's doing ESPN, and, well, you know who's doing USTV.”

One of the men waiting with Blanton came over with a hand extended. “I'm Andy Kaplan from CBS,” he said. “I'm one of the segment producers this week. I think we're going to work together starting tomorrow. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Stevie said, comforted that he would have at least one ally inside the room. He heard a commotion behind him and looked up to see Eddie Brennan coming down the stairs with security front and back and a couple of suits walking next to him.

“NFL PR guys,” Blanton said, again showing a remarkable ability to read Stevie's mind. “The league keeps an eye on everything this week.”

As soon as Brennan hit the bottom step, everyone started walking across the field toward a tunnel in the corner, but not one of the tunnels Stevie had seen the teams using to come and go. Blanton fell into step with Eddie to go over the plan with him for the next few minutes.

“Is there anything to drink in the room?” was Brennan's only response.

“What do you want, Eddie?” one of the NFL PR people said. “We'll get it for you.”

“A cup of coffee would be great,” Brennan said. “That was a long seventy-five minutes. Some guy asked me if Harvard was still in the Ivy League.”

Everyone laughed—a little too hard, Stevie thought. He had read a story in the paper once about the stupidest questions asked on media day. His favorite was someone asking Dexter Manley of the Redskins, “If you could be a tree, what kind of a tree would you be?”

This wasn't quite up there with that. “Did you see the guy's credential?” someone asked Brennan.

They were now nearing the end of the tunnel, and one of the PR guys had run ahead to open the door to the room. “Yeah,” Brennan said. “I think he was from the
Yale Daily News.
”

Now
that,
Stevie thought, was funny.

Brennan and entourage made their way into the room. Stevie could see that three camera crews were set up in front of three separate mini-stages. Lesley Visser was sitting on a set with the CBS logo in the backdrop. Next to her was a similar set for ESPN and Chris Berman, and next to Berman he could see Susan Carol and Whitsitt sitting not in comfortable armchairs like the others but on tall stools. There was a third stool between them that was obviously for Brennan when it was their turn.

Stevie found a spot in the back of the room so he could stay out of sight and out of everyone's way. Eddie Brennan, having been given his marching orders already, headed straight for the empty chair on the CBS set. There were several calls for quiet, the CBS technicians turned on the shooting lights, and Visser spent the next ten minutes asking about, as she called it, “the remarkable journey” that had brought him to the Super Bowl. Brennan's answers were, Stevie thought, warm and genuine. He had done this before; he was a pro—and yet he managed not to fall into jock clichés.

As soon as they were finished, the CBS lights went out and Brennan moved over to the ESPN set, pausing to take the coffee someone had brought him. “I need a towel,” he said. “Hot under these lights.” A towel was magically produced.

Visser was walking toward the door when she veered off and walked directly over to Stevie.

“Lesley Visser,” she said, putting her hand out. “Sean tells me you're going to be working with us this week. I think it's great.”

Visser was tall—though not as tall as Susan Carol—and had huge brown eyes and brown hair.

“Thanks,” he said. “I hope I'll do okay.”

“You'll be fantastic,” she said, lowering her voice because quiet was now being called for again. “I'll see you soon.”

She slipped out the door as Chris Berman began his intro.

“You realize, don't you, that the Schwam picked you guys to be here,” he said, turning to Brennan.

The Schwam was a swami-like character Berman had created to predict the winners each week during the NFL season. Stevie could almost hear Kelleher's voice in his head as he listened: “Typical TV guy—it's always about
him.
”

Brennan was clearly unbothered by the answer posed as a question. “You picked us to beat the Redskins two weeks ago, I know that,” he said. “But where'd you have us when you made your preseason picks?”

Berman got a little huffy. “Well, I thought you'd be better than last season, but I guess not this much better. Who could have seen this coming?!”

“Peter King had us in the Super Bowl,” Brennan said with a smile, referring to
Sports Illustrated
's football expert. “So did Tony Kornheiser. Now that was visionary!”

“Yes, well, now that you're here, let's move on to the important stuff.” He launched into a number of technical questions about how the Dreams would attack the Ravens' defense, which led to an interview that wasn't nearly as interesting, at least to Stevie, as the one Visser had conducted. The strengths and weaknesses of each team were well known already, and Brennan surely wasn't going to give away his team's strategy six days before the big game. When they were finished, Berman barely managed a handshake before being whisked off the set by several ESPN producers and suits.

“Lot to do today,” he said, as if explaining his hasty exit. “They never let me rest during Super Bowl week.”

Brennan wasn't even listening. He had his ESPN mic off and was walking to the USTV set. He was shaking hands with Susan Carol and Jamie Whitsitt when Stevie heard a voice from just off the set say, “Hey, what's he doing in here?”

Tal Vincent, who had been his producer until four days ago, was standing directly behind one of the cameras pointing a finger at Stevie.

“I invited him,” Dewey Blanton said before Stevie could find his tongue to try to respond. “He's on Eddie's schedule once you're finished.”

“Fine, then,” Vincent said. “He can wait outside in the hallway. This is my room right now and I don't need some former employee lurking around.”

Stevie could feel steam coming from his ears. He had never liked Vincent very much when he was working for him, and he liked him even less now.

“Tal, ease up,” Blanton said. “He's not lurking. He's doing what I told him to do.”

Vincent walked over to Blanton. “Well, now you can do what
I'm
telling you to do and get him the hell out of here.”

Part of Stevie wanted to just leave. No sense making Dewey Blanton's life any more difficult. Part of him wanted to slug Tal Vincent. And part of him was waiting for Susan Carol to say something in his defense.

It wasn't Susan Carol who spoke up, though; it was Eddie Brennan.

“Hey, pal, tell you what—if the kid goes, I'll go too,” he said, setting the USTV microphone down on his stool. “The league asked us to cooperate with all of the media and I'm willing to do it. But I know what you guys did to him last weekend, and I'm not going to stand here and watch you bully a fourteen-year-old kid.”

“Look, Eddie, we're all just trying to do our jobs here and—”

Brennan cut him off. “Your choice. You want me to do this interview, then the kid stays. I'm fine either way.”

There was complete silence for several seconds that felt to Stevie like several minutes. Finally Tal Vincent nodded in the direction of the set and said, “Jamie, Susan Carol—whenever you're ready, let's roll this.”

There was no further discussion of Stevie's presence. As the interview proceeded, he could still feel himself shaking with tension and anger. He wasn't really listening to Susan Carol as she introduced Brennan, but he almost laughed out loud when it was Whitsitt's turn. His opening question was “Dude—Harvard? What's that about?” He looked closely to see if Susan Carol had an off-camera reaction, but her expression didn't change. Though she did laugh when Eddie answered, “Dude! A mind is a terrible thing to waste!” As soon as Susan Carol had thanked him and closed the segment, Brennan was on his feet. He shook hands with Susan Carol and Whitsitt and bounded off the set past Vincent without saying a word.

He walked directly back to where Stevie was standing and put out his hand. “Eddie Brennan,” he said. “Walk with me down the hall and I'll talk to you about Darin.”

“Thanks,” Stevie said, falling into step as Dewey Blanton and the security people took up their positions around Brennan. “But thanks even more for what you just did for me.”

Brennan looked down at Stevie, his face quite serious. “I don't like bullies,” he said. “I'm surprised your friend is still doing the show without you….”

“I told her to keep doing it,” Stevie said, breaking in. “There's no reason for her not to.”

Brennan put a hand on his back. “Well, you're a good guy for saying that, but that show's going down in flames with Mr. Boy Band. Dude doesn't know a thing about sports.”

Stevie remembered throwing something at his television set earlier in the fall when Brennan had dominated the Philadelphia Eagles. Now Brennan was rapidly becoming Stevie's favorite football player. Seeing that they were approaching the locker room, Brennan braked to a halt, nearly causing a ten-person pileup in the hallway. “So, tell me what Darin told you,” he said, changing the subject.