Baden (Pittsburgh Titans 1)

Craning my neck to look around, I note that all the players stare at her intently, but their expressions are closed off.

I look back to Brienne, and she has her hands clasped so tightly in front of her, her knuckles bleach white.

Brienne clears her throat, and I half expect her voice to be meek and hard to hear in this large room. Instead, it comes out clear and strong, and I have no doubt the men sitting at the top of The Bowl can hear her just fine.

“Gentlemen… you must know first that I owe every one of you an apology.” That stirs a flutter, men shifting in their seats, a few whispering. Brienne waits until the room settles and looks around, slowly spinning her body three hundred and sixty degrees, as if she’s trying to make eye contact with every single person.

Let every single man in this room know she’s talking directly to him.

She lifts her chin. “I apologize because I am bound to make mistakes. I’m new at this. Admittedly, I don’t know what I’m doing. There may even be times when I say or do something that causes you great embarrassment as a member of this team. The only thing I ask is that you give me a bit of grace and help me learn what this business is all about. Right now, every one of you in this room is so much more knowledgeable than I am.”

She pauses, takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. Her knuckles are still white, but she looks calm and composed.

“The one thing that gives me hope—truly a realistic expectation of greatness—is the gathering of players we’ve accumulated in this room. We are an odd combination. We don’t know each other. We’re going to have missteps. Those are all things we’re going to have to fumble through. However, every one of you was chosen because you have talent. You are elite. And this is your shot to prove yourself.”

More shifting in chairs. A few murmurs of assent. The vibe in the room has a slight electric charge.

In just a few words, Brienne Norcross has touched every person in this room, even if she doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.

Brienne gives a nervous laugh. “But you don’t want to sit here and listen to me prattle. I know all of you want to get on the ice. I know all of you want to get out there and do your job. So I’m going to do my job now and hand it over to Callum Derringer, our new general manager. I have utter confidence in his game plan to make a team that’ll be proud to represent the great city of Pittsburgh. Just as I have confidence in the coaching staff we have selected. Just as I have the utmost confidence in every one of you sitting in this room. Have a great first practice, gentlemen, and if you need anything from me at all, you only have to ask.”

Brienne gives a slight nod to Callum and heads toward the door. My heart skips a beat because the room is once again quiet, and I prepare to stand and clap as I’d promised myself I would do for her.

But then the room erupts with thunderous applause and a deafening roar of approval from the men.

I notice a smile on Brienne’s face as she walks out.

Callum moves to the center, and the applause quiets naturally. He puts his hands in his pockets and bows his head a second, as if he’s collecting himself. When he looks up, he, too, turns in a circle so everyone knows he’s talking to all.

It’s a shock to hear him say, “I sucked at being a general manager.”

Whispers, mutters, and one person in the very back says, “What the fuck?”

Callum grins sheepishly. “It’s true. Or at least I sucked at my last GM job.”

He pauses, lets that sink in.

Some brave soul calls out, “Do you suck now?”

Callum looks around for the person who was bold enough to call him out. He connects his gaze to a player and points. “That’s the million-dollar question now, isn’t it?”

I lean forward, captivated. I want to know the answer, and I’m sure everyone else does too.

Callum shrugs. “I don’t know. I might suck, but I hope not. What I can tell you is that I learned a lot from my last stint as a GM. I know what my mistakes were, and I’m going to do things differently. I can only hope that my plans will help make this team successful. But I’m throwing out a challenge to all of you now… if you think I’m doing things wrong, you need to tell me. Doesn’t mean I’ll agree with you, but it does mean I will listen.”

I’m wowed by the brutal honesty from Brienne and Callum so far. I expect if I were given the floor to talk, I’d have my own apologies to make, for I am not a coach. I hope I can become a good one, though.