Hannah Anderson is a young reporter with a large following. Covering sports isn't easy, especially for a woman. But she is no stranger to having to work hard for what she has. She basically put herself through college and made a name for herself all...
I pull on the nicest shirt I had and a pair of jeans before making my hair look extra curly. It was warm enough out to ditch the jacket so I leave it on the back of the door. I add some cologne to pull my outfit together and I head into this city I've come to love. I park in one of those expensive parking lots downtown and walk up to the deck at Cindy's. This place had the best view of the city and I was going to need that. I was meeting Hannah in 10 minutes for a makeup interview and I was very very nervous. I swear I was sweating straight through this shirt as I walk up to the balchony. But I wanted this to go well, I wanted to be able to leave here today not worried about this girls opinion of me. I don't even get why it mattered so much to me, but it did.
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I walk outside and find Hannah leaning against the rails just watching the city life pass her by. Her long brown hair pulled back like always and a nice light pink suit on. I swear that woman could do no wrong, I know it's wrong to say she should be a model simply because if her looks but facts are facts in the end. She had a great figure and a doll face that never seemed to have a off day. If professionalism had a human entity, it would be her.
I let out a long sigh as I walk over her. I lean against the railing next to her making her turn to me. Once she realizes it's me and not one of the guys who I assume was hitting on her before I showed up she relaxes a little. She turns back to the city as we just exist together for a little.
"When I was a little girl I would have killed to be up here. To be able to see this city like this. The happy people and beautiful sights. I had none of that for the longest time, I couldn't even see this city for all its wonder because I was so low. You can't see anything from where I was. Just the dark, just the pain. I knew there was more to this city somewhere out here, but I couldn't afford to see it for myself. All I saw was the bad, I believed that this city was nothing but heart ache and disappointment, for that's all I knew.
And now I'm here and I overcame every thing life threw at me. I am able to sit on top of this city and say I made it. But at what costs? How much of myself did I lose to be here today" she asks.
I don't think she was asking me, just asking in general. I have many reasons to believe she didn't have a lot of people to talk to, and I wanted her to know that I am someone.
"I used to ask myself that a lot. When I was diagnosed with cancer there was a million and one things going through my head. How am I going to pay for this? How am I going to stay strong for my family? What am I going to do if I don't make it? What am I going to do if I do? I had just started my life as a professional baseball player, I still had so much to learn. But now I'm not so sure any of my plans mattered considering I might not see another day.
But life has different lessons in mind. Like what foods not to eat before chemo so I'm not throwing up chunks. Or what baseball caps make it look less like in a bald 18 year old kid. And while the hardship was something I hope I never have to go through again, I'm thankful I did the first time. Because it made me stronger and helped me help other people who are like me" I explain.
She turns back to me and for the first time she didn't look pissed at the world. She seemed content as she looked into my eyes. "I didn't know you had cancer" she admits.
"There's a lot you don't know about me" I insist.
"Right. We should probably get this interview started then huh" she asks.
"Probably" I agree.
So we find a table outside and we sit down. She orders a expensive wine and I stick to some water. I had a game later on and I didn't want to crash or be buzzed. Once we order our food we start off with the interview.
"So Anthony, you didn't go to college to play ball. You were drafted out of high school by Boston and went to the farm system to make your way into the big leagues. What made you decide to bypass college" she wonders.
"Baseball is my further education" I claim.
"You don't go to college simply for the education. There you learn about yourself and about the world we live in. It's a lot easier to be let down in college than in real life" she claims.
"I guess I thought I was mature enough to not have to go through that. Apparently Boston thought so too because they took a chance on me, even if I ended up being traded" I shrug.
"What was the most important thing you learned from your time in Boston" she asks.
"That your team is everything. When I got sick everyone was there for me. At the time Theo was the manager there and he checked up on me every chance he had. Never let me go through a rough day alone. And Jon had his own bought with cancer and he helped me through it back in Boston. They showed me the importance of having a team who is there for each other through thick and thin" I say.
She nods as she just thinks to herself. I would have killed to know what she's thinking. "So Theo took a chance on you twice" she notices and I smile.
"You're a smart girl" I admit.
"I didn't get this job because I didn't know what I was taking about. I went through school and training and internships just like everyone else. And like you they decided I was good enough to stick around" she smirks.
"Well they're smart people to hire you even if people don't think you belong here. I know you do" I insist.
"I'm not here for your approval Mr. Rizzo" she assures me.
"You shouldn't be. It shouldn't matter what I say or anyone else says about you. You're a damn good writer even if it takes idiots like me a few times to see that. I read your stuff and you had a lot of really good points. We're lucky to have you covering our team" I say.
"You don't have to try and apologize" she insists.
"I know I don't, but I mean what I'm saying. I know you're not fond of me and you have every right to be. But I think you're pretty great. What you're doing is opening the doors for so many people and I know that's what you want to do. I hope guys like me don't keep you from changing the sports world" I explain.
"I can handle you" she smirks.
"I can tell" I admit making her laugh. "I just hope you don't hate me enough to where I can't see where you end up once everyone else realizes how talented you are" I claim.
"I don't hate you" she sighs. I raise a eyebrow at her causing her to hide a smile. "I'll admit you're not my favorite player, but I don't hate you. God forbid I don't love every man that crosses my path" she rolls her eyes.
"Do you get a lot of shit? You know, for being a woman reporter" I ask.
"If I say what's on my mind I'm a bitch who must certainly be on her period. If I don't say what's on my mind I'm just a lost girl who doesn't know the difference between a touch down and a touch back. If I'm too honest I'm just being mean. But if I lie I'm letting my emotions get in the way of my reporting.
I can't really win simply because I am a women. And it sucks, I hate it more than I will ever admit. But I love covering sports, I love learning about the game and the players who play it. And no stupid boy is going to stop me from doing that" she states proudly.
I just smile as I look her over. The confidence was there that's for sure, but it was there to cover up her pain. That was just as obvious. I just don't know if she will ever let her guards down long enough to show me that. "Can we be friends" I ask her.
"Why are you so insistent on being on good terms with me" she wonders.
"Sometimes it's nice to have someone who will call me out on my bullshit and not just tell me what I want to hear" I say.
"Alright... fine" she says. "We can be friends. But that it" she declares.
