Read Online Life's Work by Jonathan Valin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jonathan Valin
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findings?"
"Who knows exactly when that's going to happen?" he said. "Besides, given what I now know, I have to presume that he's after more money, that he -or Walt- is planning to take advantage of the fact that we've lost three starters, and is going to try to blackmail us into renegotiating."
I eyed him suspiciously.
"You don't believe me?" he said with a laugh.
"I don't know what to believe," I said.
"Look, you want to know what this contract dispute with Bill is really about?" Petrie said.
"It would ease my mind some, yeah."
"All right," he said. "I'll tell you. Why not? Three years ago, Parks came into my office and told me that he wanted a raise. Now it just so happened that I liked Bill. He's a good football player -you can't take that away from him. When he came up as a rookie eight years ago, he was a late-round pick with nothing but the game on his mind. He signed for peanuts, played hard, and worked his way into a starting spot in two years. Off the field he was a maniac. A lot of them are, including your friend, Otto. But he did his job -kept himself in hard muscular condition the year round, hunkered down in training camp, and never gave less than a hundred percent on the field. He deserved a raise. Not as much as he was hoping for, but a decent chunk. Anyway, we negotiated for a couple of weeks. And then Kaplan got into the picture. Don't ask me how, because I don't know. One week Bill was training with him -the next, Kaplan was his agent. As soon as Kaplan stepped in, the whole process changed. You met the man, so you must know that his whole act is intimidation, physical and intellectual intimidation. He's a strong-arm thug with a shrewd line of patter. And when the patter doesn't work, he's been said to take more drastic measures."
"What kind of measures?" I said curiously.
Petrie shrugged. "It's just scuttlebutt, but two guys from Youngstown who tried to set up a rival health club turned up mysteriously dead in a Little Miami culvert a couple of years ago. It was an unsigned picture, but Walt was generally given the credit."
"He killed them?" I said.
"That's how the story goes," Petrie said without batting an eye. "I know for a fact that he's worked over several guys who got on his bad side. He's got a couple of goons on his payroll who are built like refrigerators."
"I think I met one of them," I said, thinking of Mickey. "He's never threatened you guys, has he?"
"Not with violence," Petrie said. "Walt's too clever for that. Plus he's made friends in the media. You know, it used to be that your average fan dreamed of being a football star. But the yuppie of today has set his sights higher than that. He doesn't want to be a player, he wants to be an owner. He wants to buy and sell flesh, he wants to run a team. Most of your media men understand that, and so does Walt. In fact, the first thing he did during the last negotiation was get himself on the Trumpy show, where he could wail about the incompetence of ownership. He called us names in the Enquirer. He got interviewed by Dennis Jansen on the tube. There was nothing unusual about his tactics -negotiating through the press, fueling fan resentment. He was just a little better at it than most of them are, a little smoother and a little smarter and a little more reasonable-seeming. And then he got lucky. Somehow, the national media got hold of the story, and SI had an article using Bill as an example of the inequity of the player-management setup. The whole thing snowballed, and we ended up with a public relations nightmare, while this dumbbell with three assault arrests and his smooth-talking thug of an agent played the put-upon innocents. Eventually Bill got most of what he wanted -a raise, a bonus, incentives, the works. Of course, we got a piece of what we wanted too -a long-term agreement to protect our investment."
Petrie picked up the beer again and drained the glass. "Three weeks after we'd signed the deal and all the publicity had died
"Who knows exactly when that's going to happen?" he said. "Besides, given what I now know, I have to presume that he's after more money, that he -or Walt- is planning to take advantage of the fact that we've lost three starters, and is going to try to blackmail us into renegotiating."
I eyed him suspiciously.
"You don't believe me?" he said with a laugh.
"I don't know what to believe," I said.
"Look, you want to know what this contract dispute with Bill is really about?" Petrie said.
"It would ease my mind some, yeah."
"All right," he said. "I'll tell you. Why not? Three years ago, Parks came into my office and told me that he wanted a raise. Now it just so happened that I liked Bill. He's a good football player -you can't take that away from him. When he came up as a rookie eight years ago, he was a late-round pick with nothing but the game on his mind. He signed for peanuts, played hard, and worked his way into a starting spot in two years. Off the field he was a maniac. A lot of them are, including your friend, Otto. But he did his job -kept himself in hard muscular condition the year round, hunkered down in training camp, and never gave less than a hundred percent on the field. He deserved a raise. Not as much as he was hoping for, but a decent chunk. Anyway, we negotiated for a couple of weeks. And then Kaplan got into the picture. Don't ask me how, because I don't know. One week Bill was training with him -the next, Kaplan was his agent. As soon as Kaplan stepped in, the whole process changed. You met the man, so you must know that his whole act is intimidation, physical and intellectual intimidation. He's a strong-arm thug with a shrewd line of patter. And when the patter doesn't work, he's been said to take more drastic measures."
"What kind of measures?" I said curiously.
Petrie shrugged. "It's just scuttlebutt, but two guys from Youngstown who tried to set up a rival health club turned up mysteriously dead in a Little Miami culvert a couple of years ago. It was an unsigned picture, but Walt was generally given the credit."
"He killed them?" I said.
"That's how the story goes," Petrie said without batting an eye. "I know for a fact that he's worked over several guys who got on his bad side. He's got a couple of goons on his payroll who are built like refrigerators."
"I think I met one of them," I said, thinking of Mickey. "He's never threatened you guys, has he?"
"Not with violence," Petrie said. "Walt's too clever for that. Plus he's made friends in the media. You know, it used to be that your average fan dreamed of being a football star. But the yuppie of today has set his sights higher than that. He doesn't want to be a player, he wants to be an owner. He wants to buy and sell flesh, he wants to run a team. Most of your media men understand that, and so does Walt. In fact, the first thing he did during the last negotiation was get himself on the Trumpy show, where he could wail about the incompetence of ownership. He called us names in the Enquirer. He got interviewed by Dennis Jansen on the tube. There was nothing unusual about his tactics -negotiating through the press, fueling fan resentment. He was just a little better at it than most of them are, a little smoother and a little smarter and a little more reasonable-seeming. And then he got lucky. Somehow, the national media got hold of the story, and SI had an article using Bill as an example of the inequity of the player-management setup. The whole thing snowballed, and we ended up with a public relations nightmare, while this dumbbell with three assault arrests and his smooth-talking thug of an agent played the put-upon innocents. Eventually Bill got most of what he wanted -a raise, a bonus, incentives, the works. Of course, we got a piece of what we wanted too -a long-term agreement to protect our investment."
Petrie picked up the beer again and drained the glass. "Three weeks after we'd signed the deal and all the publicity had died
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