me.”
“Huh,” Kelleher said. “That doesn’t sound like her at all. But I’m sure she’ll open up sooner or later.”
Stevie hoped that was true. “I suppose. Different subject: listen to this.” He took out his notebook and read Kelleher the quotes from Nieves.
“Those weren’t in your story,” Kelleher said.
“They didn’t fit with what I was writing, especially with only eight hundred words,” Stevie said, feeling a bit defensive. “That’s why I want to go down there today. So I can follow up and see if there’s more to it.”
Kelleher nodded. “Okay, good. It seems like there’s something about Doyle that we don’t know—but I haven’t a clue what it is. I mean, right now the guy is a trueCinderella story—all the years bouncing around the minors, single father, two great-looking kids….”
He paused to look over at Stevie. “Sorry,” he said.
“No big deal,” Stevie said. “You’re right. They are great-looking.”
“Anyway,” Kelleher continued. “Something’s missing here. We just need to figure out what it is.”
“Could be nothing to it,” Stevie said. “Or it could be something not even worth a story. Who knows?”
“You might be right,” Kelleher answered. “But you need to ask the questions to find the answers—or the non-answers.”
He eased the car off the highway at the South Capitol Street exit and headed for the new ballpark. The best description of Nationals Park, Stevie had decided, was efficient. Everything was sparkling and new, it had all the new ballpark amenities: huge scoreboard that could do everything but make a plane reservation for you; several fancy clubs; a lot of luxury boxes; all sorts of different foods; interactive video games on the concourses. But it wasn’t nearly as nice (in Stevie’s perhaps biased view) as the ballpark in Philadelphia. For one thing, Stevie’s home park had a spectacular view of the city’s skyline from almost anywhere. Nationals Park had no views at all from the lower deck, and from the press box—which was so high up it was almost scary—you could see the Capitol dome but little else worth seeing.
The ballpark was right on the Anacostia River. Almostno one was around as they made their way inside the media entrance and took the elevator downstairs.
“Should be perfect timing,” Kelleher said. “It’s five minutes before the Nats’ press conference at two.”
“You going to listen to that?” Stevie asked.
“Nah,” Kelleher said. “If someone says something interesting, it will be on the transcript afterward. I don’t need to hear how much respect Manny Acta has for the Red Sox.”
He and Kelleher rode the elevator to field level and walked down the hall to the Nationals clubhouse, which was on the first-base side of the building. A knot of about ten reporters was standing outside the door, waiting for the media to be allowed inside. One of those waiting was Tom Stinson.
“Hey, Bobby, did your protégé tell you how heroic he was last night?” Stinson said, shaking hands with both Stevie and Kelleher as they walked up.
“I heard about the scuffle,” said Kelleher, who hadn’t been in the clubhouse when the Nieves near-fight had broken out. “But heroics? Stevie, you holding out on me?”
Stevie hadn’t been holding out, but he hadn’t mentioned his blocking the cameraman as he reached toward Stinson. “It was no big deal,” he said.
“No big deal?” Stinson said. “The cameraman was ready to crack me in the head with his camera.”
“Come on,” Kelleher said. “I doubt if he’d risk a ten-thousand-dollar camera on your skull.”
“Good point,” Stinson said with a smile. “But still, Steve was great.”
“Clubhouse is open,” Stevie heard a voice say. “You guys have forty-five minutes.”
The security guard here was just a little bit different than Big-Time Bill in Boston. As Stevie walked by, he said, “Nice stuff this morning.” Stevie smiled and thanked
“Huh,” Kelleher said. “That doesn’t sound like her at all. But I’m sure she’ll open up sooner or later.”
Stevie hoped that was true. “I suppose. Different subject: listen to this.” He took out his notebook and read Kelleher the quotes from Nieves.
“Those weren’t in your story,” Kelleher said.
“They didn’t fit with what I was writing, especially with only eight hundred words,” Stevie said, feeling a bit defensive. “That’s why I want to go down there today. So I can follow up and see if there’s more to it.”
Kelleher nodded. “Okay, good. It seems like there’s something about Doyle that we don’t know—but I haven’t a clue what it is. I mean, right now the guy is a trueCinderella story—all the years bouncing around the minors, single father, two great-looking kids….”
He paused to look over at Stevie. “Sorry,” he said.
“No big deal,” Stevie said. “You’re right. They are great-looking.”
“Anyway,” Kelleher continued. “Something’s missing here. We just need to figure out what it is.”
“Could be nothing to it,” Stevie said. “Or it could be something not even worth a story. Who knows?”
“You might be right,” Kelleher answered. “But you need to ask the questions to find the answers—or the non-answers.”
He eased the car off the highway at the South Capitol Street exit and headed for the new ballpark. The best description of Nationals Park, Stevie had decided, was efficient. Everything was sparkling and new, it had all the new ballpark amenities: huge scoreboard that could do everything but make a plane reservation for you; several fancy clubs; a lot of luxury boxes; all sorts of different foods; interactive video games on the concourses. But it wasn’t nearly as nice (in Stevie’s perhaps biased view) as the ballpark in Philadelphia. For one thing, Stevie’s home park had a spectacular view of the city’s skyline from almost anywhere. Nationals Park had no views at all from the lower deck, and from the press box—which was so high up it was almost scary—you could see the Capitol dome but little else worth seeing.
The ballpark was right on the Anacostia River. Almostno one was around as they made their way inside the media entrance and took the elevator downstairs.
“Should be perfect timing,” Kelleher said. “It’s five minutes before the Nats’ press conference at two.”
“You going to listen to that?” Stevie asked.
“Nah,” Kelleher said. “If someone says something interesting, it will be on the transcript afterward. I don’t need to hear how much respect Manny Acta has for the Red Sox.”
He and Kelleher rode the elevator to field level and walked down the hall to the Nationals clubhouse, which was on the first-base side of the building. A knot of about ten reporters was standing outside the door, waiting for the media to be allowed inside. One of those waiting was Tom Stinson.
“Hey, Bobby, did your protégé tell you how heroic he was last night?” Stinson said, shaking hands with both Stevie and Kelleher as they walked up.
“I heard about the scuffle,” said Kelleher, who hadn’t been in the clubhouse when the Nieves near-fight had broken out. “But heroics? Stevie, you holding out on me?”
Stevie hadn’t been holding out, but he hadn’t mentioned his blocking the cameraman as he reached toward Stinson. “It was no big deal,” he said.
“No big deal?” Stinson said. “The cameraman was ready to crack me in the head with his camera.”
“Come on,” Kelleher said. “I doubt if he’d risk a ten-thousand-dollar camera on your skull.”
“Good point,” Stinson said with a smile. “But still, Steve was great.”
“Clubhouse is open,” Stevie heard a voice say. “You guys have forty-five minutes.”
The security guard here was just a little bit different than Big-Time Bill in Boston. As Stevie walked by, he said, “Nice stuff this morning.” Stevie smiled and thanked
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