Player Season: The Pickup Artist Who Hacked Nike

Player Season: The Pickup Artist Who Hacked Nike by Brad Stephenson Page B

Book: Player Season: The Pickup Artist Who Hacked Nike by Brad Stephenson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Brad Stephenson
Tags: Humor, nonfiction, Biography & Autobiography, Retail, Baseball
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rare occasion we dropped them off). It wasn't too complex we simply yelled 'WEEEEEEEEE'LL SEE YA!' extremely loud with a rumbling buildup in the beginning of the phrase (the rumbling buildup was vitally important).
    After two weeks of mayhem, Justin told us we were too crazy for him (as if he didn't participate) and went back to Chesapeake.
    "Kazmir is back in town, we're all going to the USF game," BJ declared.
    It was the University of South Florida football game and it was being played on the Rays turf.
    "There's going to be a lot of girls there, I need you on your 'A' game," BJ told me.
    I wondered why we were even going, a USF football game is hardly entertaining but now I knew. So we met Kazmir and Andy Sonnanstine in the locker room, got our sideline passes and went into the dugout.
    Then members of the press asked them for an on-camera interview. I liked my 'job' and I knew I had to be socially aware to keep it so I decided to hang back in the dugout for the interview, but BJ insisted I come onto the field with them.
    I stood in the background while the interview was taking place and then I received a text message, which was welcomed, this way I could at least act like I was busy doing something.
    "You know you stick your butt out when you walk," Liz transmitted.
    She was there–the super fan–watching with her keen and judging eye. It was going to be difficult to perform my duties under surveillance.
    Once the interview was over, we all walked down the sideline while fans screamed "BJ!" and "Scott!" and rarely "Andy!" but there was never a "Brad!"
    In fact, I could see them looking at me like 'Who the hell is this guy?'. It was a valid question and I guess the best answer was 'The guy who is good at picking up girls'. They would soon witness my skill first hand.
    We strategically positioned ourselves in-between the dance team and the cheerleading team. Just as I began to survey the talent, a photographer approached and asked us to follow him for a picture. Fortuitously, we were required to walk through the line of dancers and cheerleaders to get there.
    I was last in line, and just before we cleared them, a cheerleader was thrown in the air. Except she didn't land in her teammates hands as planned, she landed directly on top of my shoulder.
    The fans laughed, and I laughed along with them; even though I was in excruciating pain. This picture was taken moments after; it would end up being featured in the newspaper with the caption "BJ Upton, Scott Kazmir and Andy Sonnanstine."

    When there is chaos, there is opportunity, so I walked a straight path to the cheerleader who landed on my shoulder.
    "Are you okay?" I asked.
    "Yeah, sorry about that," she said, her glitter infested cheeks cracking a smile.
    "I'm not going to lie, it hurt. But I know how you can make it up to me," I told her.
    "Oh yeah? How's that?" she asked.
    "You can give me your phone numbers and bring your teammates to hang out with us tonight," I boldly stated.
    She gave me her phone number, her friends joined us that night and the rest is history. After this, I knew my 'job' was still secure, I just wondered if Liz saw this transaction take place.



Stormin' Norman and Liz

    One of the best aspects of being in Tampa was being surrounded byand being able to network withother successful people. The most notable example of this was the day I met General Norman Schwarzkopf.
    BJ lived in an exclusive neighborhood on Harbour Island in Tampa and just a few blocks down lived a girl named Jess. The most accurate way to describe her would be a comparison to Angelina Jolie. She had long black hair, thick luscious lips and she was surprisingly fit for her laid back mentality. Most–if not all–of the girls I met with a similar background were too lazy to ever go to the gym, but not Jess.
    A Porsche Boxster and a Chevy Avalanche with ostrich skin seats sat in her driveway. Once inside, her large Rhodesian ridgeback named Leo was waiting to greet you, or warn

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