A 22 year old sports agent is tasked with taming the Tasmanian Devil of the south, Ja Morant. Will she be successful or will her career crash and burn?
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I had no choice but to attempt to tame Ja Morant. It was about damn time I was taken serious at this company and show these white niggas, I could bring in all athletes, not just women.
Brian and I decided to make an impromptu trip to Memphis to see Morant play. I decided I would scout him out at the summer practice that was open to the public. Just to see how he would interact with his teammates and the crowd at a non televised public event.
"What's on your mind friend? You been sitting here with that blank stare all afternoon." Brian pushed my shoulder from across the table. "Nothing."
"GIRL I BEEN KNOWING YOU SINCE YOU WAS TEN YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM YOUR FRIEND!" He started scream-singing, like he was Beyonce in that music video. We laughed, before my mood ultimately changed back to what it was before. "I can already feel how draining this is going to be." My fingers found themselves rubbing my temples in circular motions to relieve some pressure from the slight headache starting to form.
"Is it really going to be that bad?" Brian pouted his perfectly plumped lips. "Maybe the media, is just exaggerating how he acts. Black men are always misunderstood."
Brian loves seeing the positive side of people and I loved that about him, but sometimes it clouded his reality. "I don't know Bri, he just genuinely seems like a hot mess. Like seriously who threatens to beat up footlocker employees over some shoes? Especially when you're a literal millionaire."
"True, I can't argue with that one. But, think about it this way." He smiled sipping on the last bit of his sunrise daiquiri. "The journey is going to be worth the struggle because you gone be making crazy bread once you become the first, the youngest, and the only black partner at HAWKEYE." He preached, but frowned once he realized I was being unreceptive.
"What if he doesn't go for it? Like what if he declines my offer then what? I'm fucked right? I mean not fucked but I might as well kiss my chances of being partner good bye."
"Amani look. You got this, stop being in your head about how difficult he may be. Mark wouldn't give you this challenge if he didn't think you could handle it. If you command the room like the bad bitch you are and show that nigga who's boss. He not gone be able to deny your energy and if he does, fuck that nigga cause he'll end up like his teammate. UNEMPLOYED. " He laughed.
"Thanks Brian, you always know what to say." "I know, I know. I'm just so perfect. Now come on before we late to this damn practice."
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During the 2 hour long practice, I studied how Ja played and watched how he interacted with his teammates and coaches. He was destined to be TOP 5 of all time, granted he keep his skills up, doesn't get injured or tossed out the league. He passed the ball effortlessly, his floaters were outstanding, and did we even need to talk about his ability to shoot from the line and dunk? The boy was great all around and he knew it, but that's where it fucks him up at. He knew he was great, and it was causing him to come off as if he was "too" great to interact with his fans. He hit a windmill dunk right in front of a kid that had to be no older than 8. The kid reached his hand out to Morant and he totally ignored it? That's not how you build fans, especially the ones who paid to sit in this public practice for a personalized experience. He definitely needed some image consulting advice and quick.
"You know what to do bitch," Brian nodded, "I'm gonna go talk to the media relations team. Come find me when you're done." He spoke as we parted ways.
I could feel the palms of my hands trying to sweat out of nervousness as I made my way over to the drenched athlete.
"Hey baby girl, if you want a picture I got you outside. Official personnel on the court only." Ja smirked, sizing me up, and wiping the sweat droplets that not so gracefully fell from his head.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes and stay as professional as I could, I lifted my media pass. "I'm not a fan Morant, I'm Amani McCaphrey, sports agent for HAWKEYE." I reached out for him to shake my hand, but he just looked at it. Like it was a dirty rag and he was too good to touch it.
"You don't look like a sports agent." He spoke with a chuckle in-between, as if something was remotely funny.
"And, what is that supposed to mean, exactly?" I tested, walking closer to him folding my arms across my chest.
"I mean you not in a suit, you look young as hell, and you'r-."
"Black?" I cocked my head to the side. Waiting for him to say the wrong thing. Most agents in this industry were white, but just because they dominated the industry didn't mean they were any better.
He laughed before shaking his head. "I was gonna say a female, but that too." He got up from his seat towering over me.
He proceeded to walk away, "Look sweetie, I'm good over here. I never heard of you before so you prolly aint good at what you do. I don't need you. Go find somebody that does." His words stinging like an insult, reinforcing my thoughts and fears from earlier today.
"If you didn't need me then why did your dad contact me?" I bluffed like hell, successfully I might add, making him stop dead in his tracks. Everyone knew him and his dad had been beefing over some controversial things that had been said in the media the past few weeks. He wouldn't dare fact check me on it. At least not right away.
"What?"
"You think I just came here because you're so good of a player I would just get on my knees and beg for you to sign with me? Nah. Tee hit me and said you really needed the help and he seen what I could do but- hey." I shrugged my shoulders. "I can see it now." I flashed my hands in the air. "Memphis Grizzlies star PG Ja Morant lives up to his name. BUT, he's not worth more than the trouble he's causing and if he doesn't get his act together he's getting dropped like Dillon Brooks." She smirked.
"But, you don't need me right sweetie?" She winked at him before walking away.
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