One

Keith Davis had been with Sports World magazine for just over two years as a copywriter, and he still held out hope that one day soon he'd get his chance to do a feature. The magazine had whole staffs of writers covering baseball, football, basketball, hockey, golf, and even soccer. But one sport they were lacking in coverage for was cycling. In fact, the only writer who had ever done a story about it had retired the year before and management didn't seem too torn up about not having anyone assigned.

Keith was a fairly smart fellow, and after studying long and hard the areas of strength and weakness in the magazine's operation, he determined that his best chance to ever get a feature story would be to become a cycling expert. He started reading everything he could about it, bought a race bike and started riding himself every day. He even started riding to and from work, weather permitting, hoping that immersing himself in the sport would help him gain some insight that he could then turn into a top notch story, and maybe even a career. There were of course plenty of people who thought he was crazy tooling around Manhattan on his bike all the time, but he just shrugged off the occasional strange comments knowing that these were all just strangers and it didn't matter what they thought anyway.

One Saturday he found himself watching television coverage of the Atlanta Winter Classic, and was captivated by the performance of this precocious girl who was staying toe to toe with the best riders in the world. The commentators said her name was Gaby Bond, and that she was the daughter of World Champion cyclist Jenny Bond. The longer he watched the coverage, the more certain he became that what he was meant to do was to write a feature about the two generations of Bonds combining to dominate the sport for years and years to come.

The following Monday morning Keith was in the office even earlier than usual, and was in the managing editor's office the moment he arrived. “Sir? I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I had a great idea for a feature article over the weekend.”

“Who are you? Do you work for me?”

“Yes sir, Keith Davis. I'm a copywriter right now but...”

Mr. Tompkins, the managing editor, cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “Davis is it? What are you on about? No, let me guess. You want to be a feature journalist, is that right?”

“Yes sir.”

“And you think you have a can't miss idea for a feature story for ‘Sports World' magazine?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Forget it. Go back to proofing the box scores for next month's issue and leave me alone.” As Mr. Tompkins said this, he was pushing Keith out of his office. Once he had pushed him clear of the door, Mr. Tompkins slammed it shut.

Keith dejectedly shuffled his way back to his desk and started the tedious task of fact checking college basketball box scores for the upcoming issue. The next day, Keith again marched into Mr. Tompkins' office, and again found himself shown the door. They continued this little dance every morning for two weeks before there was finally a change in the routine.

“You're persistent, I'll give you that,” Mr. Tompkins sighed as Keith once again entered his office. “Okay, so what's this great idea then?”

Keith walked into the office and sat down in the chair facing Mr. Tompkins' desk and spoke, “I want to do a feature on the Bond girls…”

Tompkins cut him off, “What? Like the girls from the James Bond movies? Not exactly Sports World material, is it?”

“No sir. Jenny Bond, defending World Champion cyclist and her daughter Gaby. She's the youngster who was riding alongside Lance Armstrong in Atlanta and asked for his autograph during the race. My research tells me she's the defending British junior champion. Like mother, like daughter.”

“So you're thinking of a ‘Future of Cycling' kind of thing, eh? I understand you're something of a cycling expert. That why you're wanting to do this piece?”

“Well maybe just a little. I got interested in the sport just recently because I was looking for a way to make myself more valuable to the magazine. Maybe earn a promotion from the copy desk, up to writing features.”

“I'll concede that if we get the timing right, it might work. Do you think you can have it done in time for us to run with the Tour de France coverage? Otherwise, our readers won't give hoot about it, ya know.”

“I think so sir. I've got a little more research to do, then I'd need to do the interviews.”

“And where do I have to send you for those?”

“England sir.”

“England? Christ! Can't you just make a few phone calls, ask a couple of questions, and be done with it? No, I don't suppose you could. Not for a ‘Sports World' feature, could you? Okay, I'll give you this much. Think you can get everything you need over there in a week? I don't want to have to pay to put you up across the ocean for months while you piddle around, ya know?”

“Yes sir, I can get all the interviews done in that timeframe.”

“Okay, then I'll give you a tentative okay on the story. I want to see what you've come up with before I pay for a plane ticket and hotel though.”

“Yes sir,” Keith said, barely able to contain his excitement. He jumped up out of his chair and reached for Mr. Tompkins' hand to shake, “Thank you sir, I won't let you down.”

“You better not son,” he replied, releasing the younger man's grip and returning to the paperwork on his desk.

Keith left his boss's office and made a bee line for his desk, where he pulled some legal pads out of a drawer, turned to his computer, and started trying to do some research for his story. He barely moved all day long and ten hours later as he looked up to find that he was the last one in the office, he decided he'd done enough for one day. He shut down his computer, put his notes away, and headed home knowing he needed to hurry if he wanted to ride his bike home because it was starting to get dark.

During his ride home, he was thinking about some of the information he had found that day. Mrs. Bond's resume was fairly well known, even amongst non-cycling people, but Gaby's experience seemed to be far more limited. And who was this Drew he kept reading about connected to Jenny Bond? Some reports listed that British title as belonging to Gaby, while others said it was Drew. Were they both national champs?

(to be continued)

Jillian 10.12.06 © 2006
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