Hot Ticket Read Online Free PDF Page A

working with the coaches and a trainer to get back to the shape I was in when I came to New York, and I have every confidence that I will. But a shoulder injury like I suffered can really take a toll. I haven’t been able to resume full upper body workouts since the Atlanta game.”
    “Uh-huh. Well, let me ask another question, Parker.” She looked up from her notes, planted her arms on the table, and leaned toward him, her eyes narrowed into little slits of green. “Don’t you think that if a team pays a professional ballplayer—and not just any professional ballplayer, but an MVP and a multi-year All-Star short stop—oh, who are we kidding? Let’s just say we’re talking about you —if a team pays you one hundred and ten million dollars plus bonuses, don’t you think you ought to be accountable for your level of play?”
    “Of course I do.” Behind Kelly’s head, Frank started jumping up and down—quite a feat, given the man’s girth—gesturing angrily for him to come out of the booth.
    “So then don’t you think you ought to be accountable for your declining level of play? Wouldn’t it stand to reason that there is some sort of financial penalty levied if this big-time, expensive player does not deliver the results the ball club was looking for when they made that ginormous investment in you?”
    “I do,” he said, clearly surprising her. “But I don’t think you can levy a penalty based on just a few games. I think you have to look at the season as a whole.”
    “So are you saying that at the end of the season, if you haven’t helped the club achieve the sort of results the Mets were hoping forin their gazillion-trillion-dollar investment of you—which, incidentally, forced them to trade one of the best pitchers in the National League just to free up enough cash to get you—that you will give back some of that scratch?”
    “I damn sure will,” Parker said, and noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Frank falling up against the wall like he’d been shot and sliding down until he disappeared from sight.
    Kelly reared back, blinking in surprise, and suddenly laughed. “Guido, look at the phone lines! They’re on fire. Let’s go to the phones!”
    It went downhill from there, and by the time his hour was up, Parker had the distinct impression that Guido was feeling a little sorry for him. “I had no idea New York was that mad ,” an awestruck Guido said as they wrapped the show.
    “Our thanks to Parker Price, who has been an exceptional sport by showing up here today to talk about his abysmal record. I know we’d all love to keep talking to Parker, but unfortunately, we’re out of time. That’s it for us at Sports Day with Kelly O’Shay . Tune in tomorrow when we chat about another abysmal record—the New York Knicks.”
    The show rolled over to commercials, and both Kelly and Guido got up, gathering their stuff to make room for the next guy. Parker followed them out into the hall—no sign of Frank, he noticed—and stepped in front of Kelly as Guido congratulated her on a great show.
    She tilted her blond head back and smiled up at Parker. “I can’t thank you enough for coming on this show,” she said, practically bubbling with excitement. “That was just spectacular. Okay! So thanks so much,” she said, and jostling her papers and binders, she stuck out a hand.
    He expected an apology, something that indicated she knew she’d just put him through complete hell. But all he got was impatient, wiggling fingers on that extended hand. “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?” he asked.

    “I heard every word.”
    “But you were determined to make a putz of me, regardless of the facts.”
    She laughed and withdrew her hand in favor of holding all her crap. “No, I think you’ve done that all on your own. Listen, I’d love to chat, but I’ve got loads to do. So thanks again and good luck.” And with that, she turned and marched off in the opposite