Free Cover-up by John Feinstein Page A

bit pale. Eddie plowed on. “We bet on the game,” he said. “Gambling is, of course, strictly forbidden in the NFL.”
    â€œWhat’d you bet?” Stevie asked.
    â€œDinner at the Summit Inn,” Brennan said. “Best restaurant in our hometown. If the commissioner wants to suspend me from the game for that, he knows where to find me.”
    Stevie saw Blanton sigh in relief. “Give me your notebook,” Eddie said as Stevie was about to shut it. “And your pen.”
    Stevie handed them over. Brennan wrote something on the back cover. “That’s my cell,” he said. “You need anything during the week, you call me.”
    Stevie thanked him, then thanked Blanton. He could see another gaggle waiting for Brennan just outside the locker room door. Brennan rolled his eyes as he said goodbye to Stevie. “Talking-to-playing ratio is way too high this week,” he said, and was gone, the security wave following behind.
    Stevie watched for a minute and then headed down the hall in the opposite direction. He had a story to write. A story no one else would be writing that day. He didn’t miss TV at all. But he did miss Susan Carol.

7: UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT
    THE FIELD WAS ALMOST EMPTY when Stevie walked back down the tunnel. A number of TV crews were still doing stand-ups, but all the players and team and league officials were long gone. Stevie noticed that Susan Carol and Whitsitt were doing a stand-up in front of one of the goalposts, the one right in front of the tunnel he had to walk through to get back to the media area. Tal Vincent was standing a few feet behind the two cameras and, for an instant, Stevie thought about walking over to say something to him. He decided against it, though. He’d already won the battle; no need to start a war.
    He walked to his right as he passed the area where USTV was set up and noticed that a makeup woman was redoing Jamie Whitsitt’s forehead while Susan Carol waited. She didn’t even glance in his direction as he walked by. Unfortunately, Vincent did.
    â€œHey, Thomas!” he yelled. Apparently he was taking the approach that if you lose one battle, you start another one. Stevie stopped and waited until he walked up to him.
    â€œI don’t care if some PR guy invited you or not, I don’t want to see you around any of our shoots the rest of the week,” Vincent said.
    â€œWhat makes you think I have any interest in your shoots?” Stevie said. “Do you think I’m going to steal questions like ‘Dude—Harvard, what’s that about?’”
    Vincent reddened slightly. “Look, I know you’re jealous of Jamie. He’s got your job and your girlfriend. Deal with it.”
    Stevie had an urge to tackle Vincent—who wasn’t that much bigger than he was—but resisted. Instead, he changed the subject. “Look, Tal, Eddie Brennan made a fool of you in there,” he said. “Deal with it.”
    He started to turn away, but Vincent grabbed his arm. Stevie stiffened and pulled away. “Don’t you touch me,” he said, his voice now raised, turning back to face Vincent, who was completely red-faced. “I’m going now. I can’t wait to give Bobby Kelleher a note about what Brennan did to you.”
    â€œYou put that in the paper and…”
    â€œAnd
what
? You’ll fire me?”
    â€œAnd I’ll never speak to you again.” The speaker was Susan Carol. She had dropped her mic and left her stand-up position to walk over to the argument. Her arms were folded and she was glaring at Stevie. Her drop-dead smile was nowhere in sight.
    â€œWhat?”
Stevie said. “Are you defending him?”
    â€œHe was doing what the network people wanted him to do,” she said. “He told me that a few minutes ago. Mike Shupe doesn’t want you around this week and Tal was just following orders. You don’t humiliate