Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gabe popped behind the bar to check on the bartenders and see if they needed anything restocked. They said they were in good shape so Gabe turned to mingle, but before he got far, he heard a voice call out to him. He turned to see Manny walking toward him. The serious expression on his face caused Gabe to tense up. Manny tossed a magazine on top of the bar, and leaned over it.
“Gabe, you seen this yet?”
Gabe took a couple steps so that he was directly across the bar from Manny. “Seen what?”
Flipping through the magazine, Manny said, “That girl you were talking to. Rachel? She wrote something I thought you might want to see.”
Gabe’s entire body seized as panic filled him. She wrote it. It had been two months since he’d confronted Rachel at the club. Two months of replaying their time together, of analyzing every word and action, of driving himself insane because no matter how many times he tried to convince himself their relationship had all been a ruse, it sure as hell felt real.
It had also been enough time that he’d begun to believe that she wouldn’t publish the story. That she wouldn’t completely betray him. But he should’ve known better than to let himself hope for anything where she was concerned.
Manny turned the magazine around so Gabe could read it. He had to will himself to look down at the glossy pages. When he did, his eyes narrowed as soon as they rested on the title. Pulling the magazine closer to him, Gabe said, “Rachel wrote this?”
Manny flashed a small smile. “That’s her name and picture under the headline, isn’t it?”
When he let his eyes drift below the title he saw that it was. A small, unwanted thrill shot through him at seeing her picture. “Can I borrow this?”
Manny nodded, his smile growing. “Sure thing. I don’t need it back.”
As he walked, Gabe looked at the front cover to see the words All Access Sports written on the cover with “June Edition” in smaller letters underneath. The magazine had clearly just come out. Gabe hurried to his office and locked the door behind him. He dropped into his chair and hunched forward over his desk as he opened back to the page his index finger had been holding, and began to read.
The Right to Be
By: Rachel Adler
I’ve spent ten years investigating the harsh reality that is the modern sports’ world. Ten years of interviewing athletes who’ve endured countless injuries, been exposed to devastating criticism, and been lambasted for not living up to expectations—both personally and professionally.
I have given the public what I felt they were owed: an inside look into every facet of the men and women who have risen to near superhero status. There was never a story that was too inappropriate, too sensational, too private. It was never a matter of hovering as close to some mythical ethical line I was forbidden, as a journalist, to cross because there is no line. In the collective mind of society, athletes are public figures and therefore forced into a limelight that never dims.
But is this right? Is it fair?
Does it matter?
To players like Gabriel Torres it does. Torres, a former shortstop for the Philadelphia Premieres, retired last fall after the demands of the game became too much for his body to endure. He was a fan favorite, someone who was often called upon to do special meet and greets with fans after games and to attend special events being held in the community.
But when he retired, he expected to get his life back. And not from whom you may think.
“To be honest, the fans don’t recognize me much,” Torres said. “I don’t think they expect to see a former professional athlete out and about. The real concern is the media. They’re everywhere, always looking for their next big story.”
And often, that big story comes at the cost of the players’ well-being.
Cole Barnes, a former NFL left tackle whose struggles with addiction have been well-documented since his retirement in 2014, also feels that he's thrust into the spotlight unjustly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m responsible for my own choices. But seeing every mistake I made splashed across the front page didn’t help matters. I wasn’t even playing anymore. I didn’t get why it was even relevant to anyone.”
Barnes brings up a valid point. Are the lives of former athletes relevant? Does signing a professional contract automatically grant the media access to every aspect of their lives forever?
Up until a few months ago, I thought it did. Many of us in the media are of the mindset that the public has a right to know everything. So we put it all out there for them to decide what they want to read and what they don’t. After all, these athletes signed up for this. Everyone knows that being a professional athlete entails having your life splayed across every news outlet whenever you get a speeding ticket or are associated with a disturbance that may or may not actually involve them.
Don’t they?
“I signed my contract when I was twenty-two years old. I barely even read it,” Torres said of his first contract with the Minneapolis Ravens. “All I knew was that it would get me in the Majors. I didn’t care about anything else.”
So many of these players are so overcome with emotion of being selected as one of the elite few chosen to enter the world of professional sports, they jump at the chance without thinking about all they will have to sacrifice.
Barnes told us, “My ex-wife told me not to come to my daughter’s birthday party because all I ever did was bring a media circus with me wherever I went. Imagine that. Not being able to go to your kid’s birthday because the paparazzi treats you like a sideshow act.”
And I can actually imagine it, because I was—am—one of those reporters. Someone who would readily fight for my own right to privacy, but was quick to trample others when doing so would get me the scoop.
For ten years, I have been part of the problem. Most of us have been, not only members of the media, but of the public as well. The question is, how do we fix it?
Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer for that. I’m hoping that bringing awareness to the issue will at least be a start, but I know better than to think it has absolved me of any of my previous misdeeds.
There are certain things that do not deserve to be forgiven. But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t repent.
Gabe finished reading and sank back into his chair. It definitely wasn’t the article he’d been expecting, and he felt a wave of relief for it. She had enough information on him to bury the entire place. The fact that she hadn’t done that made him feel like maybe not everything she’d said had been a lie. And damn, was that possibility appealing. It made him feel lighter in some way.
He pulled his phone out and looked at his text messages. Scrolling down, he eventually came to Rachel’s name. He typed out Thank you, and slid his thumb over to send it, but he hesitated.
This would be opening a door, a line of communication that Gabe wasn’t sure he wanted open. Because sure, this article was great. It demonstrated her taking accountability for her actions and apologizing for them.
But it didn’t change anything.
What they’d had—or what he thought they had—was gone. Or probably more precisely, it had never existed in the first place. It was best to let the past remain there.
Gabe clicked out of his text messages and stood up, sliding his phone in his pocket. He had a job to do, a future to work toward. And it was outside of his office door—not on the other end of a phone.