Chapter 3
Although Kennedi had just won a big, highly-influential ally in Frank, she was not completely in the clear to go ahead with her idea. The second, and most brutal step in the process was to pitch her article series to everyone on staff and get a majority, affirmative vote. While Frank was clearly the man with the lion’s share of the power, he implemented a somewhat democratic method for selecting the pieces that would be developed and run in the Weekly. Frank’s motivation for this approach was two-fold. For starters, he wanted everyone on staff to feel that they had a stake and ownership in what the Weekly published. In addition, he wanted to involve more heads and a more varied perspective in identifying the potential strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats of proposed pieces – on all dimensions.
In Kennedi’s favor, it was rare to have Frank’s support behind a story and not get it through the panel review – but it also wasn’t unheard of. In particular, if someone raised a valid question during discussion that was not met with a solid response, the chances of that idea becoming an actual story was close to nil. Kennedi knew the importance of getting her colleagues on-board; she had already started customizing her argument and adjusting her strategy to win their favor. She also knew how brutal the review process could be and had already braced herself for the worst.
Although she tried to appear calm on the outside, Kennedi nerves were going haywire as soon as the staff meeting started. Remaining on edge throughout, she waited patiently until she got a cue from Frank that it was time to pitch to the rest of the group. With about 10 minutes left in the meeting, Kennedi’s time had stealthily arrived. “OK, last on the agenda,” Frank announced, bringing his glasses down from his forehead and over his eyes with a quick, intentional flick of his wrist. He then slid a slip of paper closer to himself, scanned it, and barked, “Kincaid, you’re on!”
Thinking that her moment, her pitch would get more of an introduction than that, Kennedi was taken by surprise. But, quickly realizing that it was now or never, she took a deep breath and adjusted in her seat before addressing the room. “Well,” she began, almost breathlessly, “I’m not sure that I’ve had a chance to welcome everybody back to campus, so I want to begin by saying, ‘Welcome back and have a great semester!’” Kennedi’s greeting allowed her to not only butter up her colleagues but, also, get her bearing as she plunged head-first into her proposal. “OK,” Kennedi said, signaling the beginning of her spiel, “as many of you know, I did my internship at Sports Illustrated over the summer and something very interesting happened just about the whole time I was there. Everybody, and I mean everybody, who knew that I was from DSU couldn’t wait to ask me about Dante’ Douglas!”
After Kennedi ended her sentence, she paused to take stock of the room and noticed that just about everyone was either nodding or staring intently in her direction. Feeling more confident that she was on the right track with her approach, she continued. “I think we are missing an opportunity here. The Douglas Weekly needs to actively document Dante’s journey as he makes the – almost inevitable – journey to the pros. With that in mind, I’m proposing to write a story – no, make that a series of stories that focus on Dante’ and his journey from a variety of perspectives – and publish them once a month.”
Pausing to make sure that she had finished her opener, Frank scanned the room to gather any preliminary reaction. “Alright, the proposal is on the floor,” he said, breaking the silence. “Questions from the panel?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Jeffrey – that Weekly’s photographer – announced, before quickly and nervously clearing his throat. “So, what are you thinking, in terms of story angles? Are you just going to do a bunch of interviews with him, his teammates, coaches, etc. – like that? Or, will you do a day-in-the-life kind of thing and be a fly on the wall, just observing what you see and writing about it?” Jeffrey asked, focusing his gaze on Kennedi and rhythmically tapping his chin with a pencil. “I’m just trying to get an idea for your direction.”
“Well,” Kennedi sighed, adjusting in her seat once more. “I’m thinking about a mix of things. My goal is to find out who Dante’ is and make our readers feel like they know him as well. To do that, I want to talk to him, the people around him…get a feel for his life on and off the field…that kind of thing. As I mentioned, I want to chronicle his story over a series of months, and I don’t think that each piece has to be in the same format, or come from the same angle. In fact, now that I think more about your question, I think that it might actually be good to switch the format up – just a little bit – each month and not tie myself down to one approach.”
As she finished her sentence, Kennedi saw Jeffrey nodding and noticed Aaron – the Arts and Entertainment reporter – starting to lean forward. She could tell that he had a question brewing and she braced herself, unsure of what would come out of his mouth next. Aaron was quick-witted and had a knack for asking tough questions. Many of the panels that had turned brutal, in the past, were taken there by Aaron. Kennedi knew that if his question was not countered with a well-thought out response, her idea – though well-received at the onset – would undoubtedly tank.
“OK,” Aaron said, “I know you’re good, Kennedi, and I think your time at Sports Illustrated has probably served you well. I also think that it’s logical for you to cover this story here on campus given your experience there and the buzz you experienced first-hand. All of that makes sense to me.” Aaron lowered his head and paused after finishing his last statement. Listening keenly as Aaron rattled off his list, Kennedi wasn’t sure if he was simply building up to a larger point or slathering on a little anesthesia before stabbing her in the back. “That said, here’s my question,” Aaron began, pausing once again and looking as if he was still trying to work out what he wanted to say in his head. “What in do you have to actually get this series done. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a great idea – I’m just wondering if it’s a doable one. Do you have a contact on the football team? Do you know Dante’ or one of his close friends?”
On the inside, Kennedi breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily for her, she already had this base covered and was prepared to answer Aaron’s question with a little bit of name-dropping thrown in for added effect. “Before I left SI for the summer, I told my mentor, Alan Fraische, about this idea and he was all for it. In fact, he was so eager to support it, he even said that he would do anything he could to help me get this project underway. With that said, I already know that Alan has a relationship with Jim Gates, our Associate Athletics Director. In fact, that’s part of how I got the internship: Gates reached out to Alan and asked him to make room for one of our students. Anyway, as far as I can tell, I’ve got actually got an in much higher up than just at the team level, I’ve got a direct in with the Associate Athletic Director. So, I’m pretty confident that I can get the access I need.”
Aaron nodded, satisfied with Kennedi’s answer. “OK, I’m sold! Any other questions?” he said, darting his eyes around the table. Known to be the resident rabble-rouser, Aaron’s tone suggested that there couldn’t possibly be any other queries on the floor since he had already given his stamp of approval.
“Actually, I’ve got one,” Chelsea – Frank’s associate editor – replied, challenging Aaron’s tone and nodding in his direction. “Sports, and football in particular, are both so male-dominated,” she began, intensifying the inflection in her voice to mirror the expansiveness of the problem, as she perceived it. “I’m sure you might’ve got some practice handling – I’m just going to say it – the sexism that is so rampant in sports. But I would love to know - how do you plan to handle all of that in the context of this campus and our culture at DSU.”
Though the premise of Chelsea’s question was – on its face – harsh, Kennedi got exactly where she was coming from – and, more importantly, why the question was actually a critical part of the discussion. While the men around the table looked uncomfortable, as if Chelsea had broken some sort of rule for remaining politically correct, Kennedi totally recognized the merit of her question, had already considered it in the context of DSU’s culture, and was ready to address it.
“I hear you,” Kennedi began, sitting straight up in her chair and leaning toward Chelsea. “I hear you completely – you know I do – and I know why you’re asking this question! Fortunately, I got the idea to do this story while I was still at SI, and I was surrounded by women reporters that I could tap for insight on how to go about reporting it. I’ll have to say, I got some interesting insights.”
Before Kennedi even finished her thought and fully answered the question, Chelsea uncrossed her arms, sat forward in her chair, and listened intently. She was totally plugged in and even picked up her pen to write notes.
Kennedi continued, “The rules are changing: women can enter locker rooms and, generally, can’t be barred from having access to the athletes. Now, while that’s true, overall, I also know that – because I want to cover the story over several months – I have to be rather shrewd about my reporting and not step on any toes until I absolutely have to. My plan, here on campus, is to only get baseline access to the field – for practices and such. So, just based on how I want to cover Dante’, I won’t actually need a lot of that sensitive access. Unless my plan changes, I should be in good shape and I don’t think the kinds of issues you may be thinking about will be a problem for me.”
As Kennedi finished her statement, she – once again – took stock of the room and felt confident with the nods. Sensing a lull in the conversation, Frank boomed, “Any more discussion?” After a reasonable amount of silence, he went on to say, “I think we’re ready for a vote. All in favor, raise your hand.”
Kennedi held her breath and slowly exhaled as she saw all of the hands around the table raised in the air. She would have been happy with a majority, but a unanimous vote was, quite clearly, magnitudes better. “Kincaid,” Frank said, “are you even going to vote for your own story?” As she smiled sheepishly, a chorus of giggles erupted.
“Oh, right…” she said, jutting her left hand high and catalyzing more laughter from the table.
“Any opposed?” Frank said, just to cover all of the bases, to a nearly motionless room. “Kincaid,” he started, with a nod in her direction, “you’ve got your story!”
And just like that, Kennedi got her wish. She felt a quiet calm fill her body and, quite rapidly, a tingling in her fingers and toes. All of the hard work, careful preparation, and targeted thought she had invested – just to get her story off the ground – had just paid off. With a crisp victory that was only seconds old, Kennedi sat in silence to let her nerves mellow out. She watched, almost through a surreal lens, as Frank announced the end of the meeting and everyone scattered. Although she knew she had a good chance of being victorious when she practiced in her mirror, earlier that morning, the reality of a victory was finally in her grasp. Little did she know, her work had really only just begun.