was a closed-circuit picture of the playing field. He could see hundredsâmaybe thousandsâof media people milling around awaiting the Ravensâ arrival. McManus offered him a chair and sat behind the desk.
âI think your dad and I have reached an agreement,â he said. âHeâs understandably leery of you jumping right back into TV. So I suggested that you do some work for us on Wednesday and Thursday and, if it goes okay, maybe do a piece for the pregame show. If itâs too much, Iâll back off. I told your dad Iâd pay you the same if youâre on one piece or on threeâso thereâs no pressure and you can still primarily focus on working for the
Herald.
â
Stevie thought that was fair, especially since it meant he had today to get acclimated before he had to do anything for CBS.
âWhat do you want me to do exactly?â he asked.
âIâm not a hundred percent sure,â McManus said. âIâd like to have a crew with you during the time players and coaches are available. See what you find. If nothing else, we could have Dick interview you about what itâs like to be a fourteen-year-old reporter at the Super Bowl.â
He knew Dick was Dick Enberg, the longtime play-by-play man who would be hosting the late-night show for CBS this week.
âWell,â Stevie said, âif my dadâs okay with it, Iâm willing to give it a try. Iâd rather find the stories than be the story, but I hope you arenât expecting too much. Thereâs a lot of media out there.â
âI have no expectations,â McManus said. âBut I know your work pretty well. I have very high hopes.â He reached into his desk, pulled out a credential, and slid it across to him. Stevie picked it up and did a double take. It had his name and picture on it, but instead of having the word MEDIA across the top in black letters, it had CBS in the networkâs trademark blue and gold.
âI wanted to be prepared if things worked out,â he said. âThe NFL PR office had your photo already, so it was pretty easy to get it done quickly.â
He pointed at the credential around Stevieâs neck. âThat will get you a lot of places,â he said. âOurs will get you almost anyplaceâincluding being able to come and go back here without checking in at reception or anything like that.â
Stevie was putting the new credential around his neck when McManus stood up and put his hand out. âIâm looking forward to this, Steve,â he said. âI have two goals: one, for people to say Iâm a genius for signing you up for the week, and twoâmore importantâfor you to tell me when the weekâs over that youâre glad you did it.â
Stevie stood and shook his hand. âIâll try to make you happy you did it too, Mr. McManus,â he said.
âEveryone who works for me calls me Sean,â McManus said. âGo on and get out there. You are about to witness the greatest media circus of your young life.â
As soon as he walked through the revolving doors that led to the field area, Stevie knew McManus wasnât exaggerating. He had been in the Superdome in New Orleans, but the new Hoosier Domeânegotiations to stick a corporate name on the building were apparently still ongoingâmade the Superdome look like a high school gym.
Stevie had read that it seated 82,000 people, but there were so many corporate boxes about a third of the way up in the stands that the upper deck appeared to be above several clouds. There was a wide expanse of turf between the first row of seats and the field. They were cleverly raised high enough so that spectators could see over the heads of the players on the sidelines. But even in the front row, fans were pretty far from the action. And in the upper deck? Stevie wasnât sure if they could even see one of the JumboTron screens. The place
Learning to Kill: Stories