Chapter 12

A bunch of TV cameras, each with its own lights and tripod, lined the back of the spartan MCI meeting room, the place where Michael Jordan and Jaromir Jagr, among others, met the press and where new coaches and high draft-choices came and sometimes went. A half-dozen microphones and about twice that number of small tape recorders sat on the plastic lectern. The room was wall-to-wall men with one or two women elbowed in for good measure or perhaps for the sake of appearances.

Even Tony Kornheiser was there, looking disheveled and disenchanted. I recognized him from his TV show. He was one of the few on the tube whose chose not to wear a rug. The long-legged girl from SI was missing, but the guy from the Post was there and nodded to me when I caught his eye.

Mrs. Jepperson and I stood, watching a big electric clock, and as the second hand moved past the nine and the hour hand reached the twelve, we entered through the back door, right on time. I sat where she indicated and she stepped to the mikes and smiled. The room quieted. She paused another fifteen seconds or so, and I wondered who had taught her that or if it was instinctive. She hooked her right foot behind her left, but I could see that her knees were a bit wobbly. For the first time, I noticed that she had pretty big feet; perhaps she was not perfect after all.

"Good afternoon," she said, and then she cleared her throat, put on her gold-framed half-glasses, raised her arched eyebrows and said, a bit louder, "Good afternoon. I am Andrea Jepperson. I am used to being called Andrea and since I am probably younger than a few of you, I really do not mind, but I will answer to Mrs. Jepperson, of course." She took a deep breath and looked around the room with a faint smile on her lips. Then she looked at me and winked. I wondered why she had worn her glasses. I was sure she did not need them; I had not seen them at the restaurant or in her office. I guessed she thought they made her look older. They did not.

"I am now the president and CEO of Washington Nationals Baseball Incorporated. My dear husband put me in the job. I had asked him for a new car, but instead he gave me the Nats." She looked up and made a face, putting her tongue in her cheek. "I haven't thanked him yet."

She paused as a small chuckle moved through the room. She frowned. I think she had expected a bigger laugh. She took a breath and dropped the smile.

"My husband as general manager and owner and Mr. Harder as field manager put this team together over the last six months or so." She paused and looked around the room; her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the lectern. She took another breath and hurried on. "I do not think they did a very good job." That brought a small gasp and a titter. The note takers scribbled. "There are going to be some changes. Perhaps a lot of changes. Change number one: Mr. Harder is no longer with the team. His contract, of course, will be paid for the rest of the season if need be. Here is the new manager." She gestured at me, said my name and I started to stand. She waved me back down. "The rumors, for a change, were right."

Two reporters jumped up and began to ask something loudly, stumpy microphones in their hands. Andrea looked over her skinny glasses and shook her head, bobbling her golden curls. They sat down, grumbling. "Be patient," she said and then paused and smiled. "Please."

Some press people stirred in their chairs, shaking their heads at the TV boors and flipping greenish notebook pages. Kornheiser slumped and closed his eyes, hands linked over his stomach.

"Today I have hired Mr. Thomas Ambrose, currently employed by the Baltimore baseball team, whose name has slipped my mind for the moment, as our general manager. As I am sure you know, he is a very experienced baseball man. He will start here as soon as he finishes up over there, probably by the end of the week. He will have carte blanche, with the advice of our new manager of course, in all baseball personnel matters. I will take care of the business end of the team's activities. My first decision is to lower the price of the general admission tickets in the leftfield stands, what some call the bleachers, by two dollars each. These will be the cheapest seats in the big leagues."