One Wild Ride: The Saga of the Dake and Bates Show

By Long

Walter "Dake" Dockery and Billy Bates sense a unique chemistry on the day they first meet in the lobby of Global Sports Network's headquarters. Pivotal career crossroads bring them to GSN's door, ready to challenge the likes of ESPN by unconventional means-creating a talk show playing directly to sports fans in the 55-and-older audience segment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Violet Hill Publishing
• Release date: Jul 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735948621

Long

Bill Long is a 1978 graduate of Lehigh University and went on to spend his career in the printing industry, where he worked for The Maple Press Company for over 40 years. In May 2019, he retired after a long-term stint as Vice-President of Sales and Marketing. His second career as an author has turned out to be a labor of love. Bill resides in York, Pennsylvania with his wife Kathy. They enjoy spending as much time as possible with the families of their three children which includes four grandchildren.

Book preview

1

AS THE MORNING SUN began to filter through the window welcoming a hot and humid late August day, Billy Bates rolled over and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He had no intention of waking up but his overactive bladder was in emergency mode. It was yet another benefit of the aging process. As he made his way to the bathroom, he remembered that he was due on the tennis court in a little over an hour.

What are you doing up so early? his wife asked as he crossed the room.

I have a singles match with Judd at 8, Billy replied.

You are out of your friggin’ mind. It’s going to be about 90 degrees and humid out there. Promise me you’ll stop if it gets too hot. You two idiots are going to kill each other, she responded while shaking her head in disbelief.

Just remember the insurance policies are in the safe, Billy joked.

This was just another plea from his wife to limit his levels of activity. Billy knew that matches like this were tough on him physically. Judd, like Billy, was a classic baseline player. The morning would be filled with long rallies, drop shots, and lobs that would leave Billy gasping for breath. In the end, the 15-year age differential would likely be too much for him to overcome.

Consistent with every other morning, there were all the familiar aches and pains that he had become accustomed to at age 62. His normal routine would include a round of serious stretching and the customary application of Tiger Balm prior to his court appearance. While there was always the initial what the fuck am I thinking? speech he would unfailingly give himself, the lure of competition and the love of the grind were too much for him to resist.

Later in the day, at the conclusion of another two-hour singles match, his wife would simply shake her head as he hobbled around gingerly, knowing it was hopeless to get him to consider a more sensible approach to physical and emotional fitness. Despite his somewhat advanced age, Billy was still able to compete with many of the stronger players at his club. However, it was not lost on him that his ability to remain competitive would not last forever. Father Time continued to be undefeated. Billy was simply trying to drag out the inevitable as long as possible.

The love of competition and the process of working to achieve established goals always appealed to Billy. He believed that hard work and commitment were critical factors for success regardless of the endeavor. Growing up, his parents both demonstrated a solid work ethic. His mother went back to college during Billy’s preschool years to earn her Master’s degree and promptly began working with a local school district. He remembered going to college classes with her and playing with his toys on the floor during his early childhood years. His father was heavily involved in running the family roofing business and worked long hours every day, often returning to his office after dinner. He was a fighter pilot in World War II and had flown 40 missions in the European theatre. His experiences in the war influenced the way he approached life. Outside of work, he had a bit of a carefree attitude, and was known for his kindness and sense of humor. First and foremost, Billy’s parents instilled in him a strong set of values that would shape his personality as he grew into adulthood.

Throughout his youth, Billy had been a good athlete, known for his competitiveness and drive, but limited in terms of outright physical talent. Basketball was his primary love, but he was only 5-foot-7 inches tall and 135 pounds soaking wet as a senior in high school. Despite his commitment to improving during the off-season, he was unable to crack the varsity lineup. His lone accolade was being the first two-time winner of the Golden Splinter Award, bestowed upon the varsity player leading the team in minutes on the bench. While his standard line was that he was small but slow, the humor was simply a cover for his disappointment at not being able to compete at a higher level in the sport.

Billy was always a student of the game of basketball and it fascinated him how the teams that played smart and together would overcome talent deficits with surprising regularity. It was only logical that Hoosiers was among his favorite sports movies. He would grow easily frustrated with athletes more talented than him who did not have the desire to maximize their abilities. His standard line was that they were TWAT’s. (Translation: Total Waste of Athletic Talent.) Eventually, Billy’s lack of success on the hardwood proved to be a valuable lesson to him. He learned that, regardless of effort, certain goals in life were simply unachievable. The main takeaway was the satisfaction of knowing that you had given it your best shot. That way, there would be no wondering about how good you could have been.

The silver lining in Billy’s athletic career was his ability to compete on the tennis court. During his high school and college years, he was one of the better players in his hometown in southcentral Pennsylvania. This gave him some notoriety locally, and his success gradually built a confidence level that would serve him well in future years. While he was able to play tennis collegiately, it was readily apparent that there were many levels of tennis that were well beyond what he could ever hope to attain. Despite this, his ability to compete locally fueled his desire to continue his playing career.

It was somewhat improbable that Billy developed a love of sports in a household where sports were not emphasized. While the other members of his family had little interest in sports, he would regularly consume whatever events were available to him. This often involved adjusting the aerial on the TV and adding tin foil to bring in a clearer picture. In the days prior to cable television, the selection of televised sporting events was extremely limited. While his parents would always support his appetite for sports, they never pushed him. His lone memory of watching sports with his father was when they witnessed Hank Aaron break Babe Ruth’s career home run record. There was no rational explanation. Billy’s passion for sports ran through his blood from the time he was a child.

Through the years, Billy was especially drawn to athletes of high character who achieved consistently superior levels of performance over a long period of time. Jerry West, Arnold Palmer, Johnny Unitas, Brooks Robinson, and Bjorn Borg were among his childhood heroes. His love affair with sports was a lifetime passion that he could never seem to escape. Like those who shared his somewhat old school perspective, he unsurprisingly had some strong opinions on the behaviors of athletes in the modern era and how they were portrayed in the media.

Shortly after earning his college degree, several things happened relatively quickly that gave his life purpose and direction for years to come.

First, he signed on to work at a local family-owned printing company that specialized in book manufacturing. Next, and most importantly, he married the woman he had fallen for back in his senior year in high school. She was undoubtedly the love of his life and their relationship would solidify his life’s direction from the moment they said I do. Expectations were much different for young men and women as compared to how things are done today. At that moment in time, you finished school and immediately pursued a career. Also, marriage at a younger age was much more common than it is today. By the age of 23, Billy had a career path established as he and his bride settled into their newly purchased home. Mortgage payments and their desire to build a solid and happy future together quickly started to rule the day. Real life had a way of coming to roost very quickly in the late 1970s.

Billy’s career became a top priority for him during the early years of his marriage. Fortunately, he was able to translate his competitiveness and commitment to being successful in a business environment. At the tender age of 31, Billy took the reins as a vice-president at his printing company, overseeing the sales and marketing functions. The business grew steadily in his first few years at the helm and demand for book manufacturing services remained strong. However, the travel schedule was brutal and it seemed that he was always moving into or out of a suitcase. He often referred to this affectionately as the schlep factor.

At the same time his job responsibilities continued to expand, three children were added to the mix, and his family was off and running. Between family and business obligations, tennis matches and basketball pick-up games became less frequent. They were no longer priorities in his life. As his children grew, Billy found himself coaching numerous teams in sports including soccer, basketball, and baseball. Many nights upon returning home from work, he would leave his car running in the driveway while he quickly changed clothes before heading out to run practices. He thoroughly enjoyed working with the kids in his community to teach them fundamentals and sportsmanship. Billy was fully committed to being a family man and providing opportunities for his children. While it was a hectic time, things were moving along quite nicely. The prioritization of his family and his challenging career gave him great satisfaction.

Inevitably, unforeseen challenges test each and every one of us. Billy was no exception to the rule. Before he knew what had happened, he had been with his company for nearly 40 years and become a well-respected figure in the printing industry. At the same time, things were rapidly changing in book manufacturing. eBooks had been introduced and quickly consumed a 20% share of the markets that his company served. At the same time, the Internet created lower demand for law and medical textbooks, which were important markets for his company. The result was some downsizing within the company as demand levels for their services declined. It appeared that the future for books might be very much in jeopardy. While these factors were not under his control, Billy felt responsible for the welfare of his fellow employees. It had been a difficult time for him.

Based on his concerns for the long-term future of book manufacturing, Billy started to consider altering his career path. Given his age, it was getting late in the game for him to make a major change. He had always dreamed of a job somehow related to sports, and wondered if there was a way to make that dream a reality. The compelling question he faced was how to launch into a second career while keeping the well-being of his family at the forefront. It was a quandary that many men in his position had faced. The old Yogi Berra line, when you come to a fork in the road, take it, gained a certain degree of relevance as he weighed his options.

Billy discussed his concerns with his wife and her supportiveness to at least explore a career change somewhat surprised him. While his job had provided stability to his family, she pointed out that it was painfully obvious that he was getting less satisfaction from his job. She was also quite clear that his stress levels were making him a giant pain in the ass. They jointly decided that he would begin to pursue other options. He wondered if making a change would be fair to his family. It seemed like just yesterday that his children were fully entrenched in the local school system with established networks of friends. But now, things had changed as two of his children were already college graduates, and his youngest would be graduating from college the following year. This created a degree of flexibility he had not experienced for many years. Perhaps this would be a bellwether moment for all of them. Perhaps he was just out of his fucking mind. Time would tell.

At that point in time, a new sports network had sprung up to compete with ESPN. After a rocky start, ESPN was clearly flourishing, but with ample space in the market for another player. The Global Sports Network launched in 2015 amid great fanfare. Their marketing program was gaining traction and Billy was impressed with the management of the newly formed company. He was intrigued about a potential future at the company based just outside of Philadelphia. Fueling the fire was a recent article he read about one of their corporate initiatives to connect with the older demographic of sports fans. His mind envisioned the roles of sports journalists such as Chris Berman and Bob Ley over at ESPN.

The trick was to figure out how the hell to get his foot in the door. After spending over 40 years with his current employer, he had no idea how to make that happen.

Billy determined that the only sensible approach was to go back to basics. Feeling a bit like a fledgling college graduate, he submitted his resume accompanied by a personal letter outlining his desire to apply the skills he had developed through his many years in sales to a career related to sports. Billy went on to say he was confident his skill set and knowledge base could be used to connect with an older, more traditional demographic. His hope was that this would at least put him in the mix of those considered to fill the niche that the company was seeking.

He probably had a better chance of being hit by lightning on a sunny day.

However, much to his surprise, he was contacted by GSN’s Human Resources department and an interview was immediately arranged. It had been over four decades since his last interview, and Billy was excited about the opportunity. Could this be the beginning of something special or simply the end of some far-fetched dream?

What happened next exceeded his wildest expectations.

Billy arrived several days later to meet with Davis Gladstone, vice president of programming at GSN. As he entered Davis’s office, Billy quickly tried to assess the situation. Davis was neatly dressed in black suit pants with a cleanly pressed white shirt and an orange striped tie. Despite his straightlaced appearance, Davis seemed very approachable, which immediately put Billy at ease. At the same time, Davis’s direct business style was readily apparent. He struck Billy as someone he could really enjoy working with in the future.

From their initial conversation, Billy learned that Davis was somewhat younger than him but old enough to have reinvented himself by moving over to the media industry after a 15-year stint in the pharmaceutical field. His love of sports led him to pursue his current position with GSN and as their conversation progressed, they connected on a variety of levels. Davis went as far as to suggest the sports talk show medium would work well for Billy given his extensive experience in connecting and communicating with people in a professional manner.

From there, Davis’s staff arranged a studio audition. Billy was mesmerized by the surroundings in the studio with pictures of sports legends adorning the walls. While he lacked experience in any type of broadcasting role, Billy was amazed at how comfortable he felt in that setting and thought his performance was reasonably strong. This is just awesome, he thought to himself. As he departed GSN’s offices later that day he wondered: Jesus H. Christ in a chicken basket. Could something actually come to fruition here?

Despite feeling that things had gone unexpectedly well, Billy did not hear back from GSN for a couple of weeks. However, after what had seemed like an eternity, Davis again summoned him to GSN headquarters, located in the Chester County suburbs. As he entered Davis’s office, Billy was unable to get a solid read on where the conversation was headed. However, he was certain there was a reason he’d been asked to return.

After some brief small talk, Davis looked directly at Billy and launched immediately into the agenda. Look, he said, there is simply no justification for me to hire you since you have no experience in the sports journalism and broadcasting medium—especially to handle a role as an anchor for a sports radio talk show. Maybe I’ve lost my mind, but there is something about you that resonates with me. For whatever reason, my gut tells me that I should provide an opportunity for you here at GSN.

It would be hard for me to argue that logic, Billy replied with a slight chuckle. Inside, his stomach was churning.

Davis continued, So this is my plan: I’m going to take a huge risk and move forward with offering you a talk show slot working with a co-host from the Philly area who has considerable experience in sports journalism. I’ll give you his background information so you can look up some of the work he’s done through the years. This guy knows his shit about sports and has a great sense of humor. I’m putting my ass on the line here, but I think you two are the right people for the job. We have a mission to connect with this older demographic, which will require some out-of-the box thinking. I hope my confidence in you two gentlemen proves to be well placed.

It all seemed surreal to Billy. He was being formally offered a GSN talk show anchor position with a partner he had never met. The program would likely be buried in an undesirable time slot among a host of competing ESPN broadcasts. To top it off, the salary offered was lower than Billy’s current compensation level. In spite of these initial reservations, he could simply not allow the opportunity to slip through his fingers.

After a lengthy discussion with his wife, Billy decided to embrace the change and never look back. While there would be a 90-minute commute from his home to GSN’s corporate campus, moving would not be considered until the job situation had stabilized. In the meantime, he would stay in local hotels as needed.

After all the wild turns life had thrown at him, Billy was about to become a GSN talk show host and realize his lifetime dream of working in an occupation related to sports. Little did he know that his pairing with one Walter Dake Dockery would transform sports journalism in a way that many would view as refreshing. The thought of embarking on this new adventure gave him a level of excitement he had not experienced in many years. Another part of him was scared shitless.

2

IN A WORLD WHERE smartphones and the three-point line didn’t yet exist, Violet Hill playground was the place to be on any given evening during the summer of 1973. At least that was the worldview of one Walter David Dake Dockery, a gangly 15 years old at the time.

Dake wasn’t a good basketball player by any measure, but he’d managed to fit in with the regular crew for fairly high-level pickup games at Violet Hill. A run of five-on-five typically featured local varsity high school starters, plus a handful of All-County ballers who went on to play in college. The best of the bunch, 6-foot-8-inch Dave Shorty Brown, later started for Clemson and even played a bit of pro ball in Europe.

Everybody at Violet Hill had a nickname. Besides Shorty and Dake, other notables included Dal, Duke, Wrong Way, Gup, Brick, Cass, Gumbye, two unrelated Smittie’s, Insect, Peach, Corny, and Zerf. Okay, the Kelly brothers from the nearby Catholic school didn’t have nicknames. They’d just run you off screens all night until your Chuck Taylors wore out or you’d lose interest as a defender.

The games generally started a little past 7pm, when Gup’s two-tone Chevy Impala would pull into the courtside parking area, usually with Quadrophenia cranking from his tape deck. For some reason, Gup needed to watch an hour’s worth of Bonanza reruns every night before he’d show up. Nobody really questioned it. He would simply jump out of his car, ready to play after launching a few quick warmup shots with his unorthodox shooting motion.

Sometimes a few off-duty cheerleaders would venture by to watch the action from the patchy grass bank just above the slightly sloping court, their eyes mainly fixed on the more accomplished players.

Still, it was heady stuff for Dake, who was growing about an inch per month heading into 10th grade. His unusual nickname, bestowed by Brick as a derivation of Doc, was a source of pride, carrying with it a sense of belonging.

DAKE DIDN’T MAKE IT far with his basketball aspirations, despite eventually sprouting to around 6-foot-3. He permanently became a spectator when cut on his first day of varsity tryouts in 11th grade. It was readily apparent to Coach Jim Gassell that Dake simply could not play and—to make matters worse—was only good for about six trips up and down the court before nearly collapsing.

Dake still loved the game, though. He channeled his enthusiasm into fandom, closely following high school, college (Big Five and ACC), and pro hoops. When there wasn’t a game to watch on TV, he played Strat-O-Matic, a card-and-dice simulation game, carefully charting player statistics and clicking out staccato-like summaries of the outcomes on his electric typewriter.

It all seemed like a colossal waste of time to Dake’s parents. They were Depression-era survivors, on their heels a bit handling an aimless teenage boy after raising two incident-free elder sisters.

But, to his credit, Dake found a creative outlet that would shine a pathway through the muddiness of adolescence. He’d type up his overnight game summaries, some passages written in the voice of Howard Cosell, America’s most famous sportscaster at the time, and package them together in a makeshift newspaper. Dake always left the latest edition on the kitchen table on his way out the door to catch the morning school bus. He shared copies with a few close friends, who mostly encouraged the nonsense.

Dake’s father, Walter Sr., was not an easy guy to please, especially when seated at breakfast wearing only his boxers, swirling a Lucky Strike. But over time, even he had to admit there was some comedic value in the imaginary sports page. The lead frequently started, As is our usual custom, let’s review what transpired around the league. . . Not quite Grantland Rice, but at least the kid wasn’t out stealing hub-caps at night.

One morning, while pondering a fake box score and game summary (Gail Goodrich led the way with 24 points for the ’74 Lakers), Walter Sr. noticed the opponent: the ’73 Lakers, paced by 22 from Goodrich.

Stifling laughter, he casually asked Dake, How is it possible that teams from two different years were on the court at the same time?

It’s just a simulation, Dad. I wanted to see which team was really better.

Now nearly doubled over at the thought, Walter Sr. continued the needling: So Goodrich guarded himself? What would have happened if he’d gotten in foul trouble? Would’ve blown the whole damn simulation.

At any rate, this type of back-and-forth happened often enough that it became a means of bonding between the clueless youngster and his worldly pop. Walter Sr. appreciated good writing—insisted on it, in fact, in all business communications—and saw some promise in his son’s ear for language. He told Dake he would ask around, to find out how a budding sportswriter might get a start.

That’d be cool, Dake thought. I could do this all day.

SUNDAYS AT THE Southern County Courier unfolded pre-dawn, but at a relaxed pace. Over in the Sports Department, a converted trailer annexed to the Courier’s main business office, Owen Turk Stansbury sat alone in the dark, his swivel chair facing away from the entrance as footsteps crunched up the gravel path leading to the trailer.

Dake instinctively lifted the latch, skittered inside the cramped space, and flipped on the overhead fluorescent. In the dim, wavering light he placed a go-cup of black coffee and twin cinnamon-swirl donuts amid the clutter on Turk’s desk.

The creaking leather chair spun a 180, revealing the full, round face and crooked smile of the Courier’s sports editor. You’re late! he boomed.

Well, I had to stop by the library after morning mass, Dake countered. How’d you do yesterday?

Fuck the Iowa Hawkeyes, said Turk, offering a candid summary of his weekend college football wagering. Their goddamn quarterback couldn’t fall down fast enough once Michigan came with the blitz.

Tough to win on the road in the Big Ten, Dake noted.

Thanks for that insight, professor. Anyway, before you get started, I have some semi-important shit to go over.

Dake grabbed a seat in the lawn chair beside Turk’s desk. It was the same chair in which he’d sat 20 years prior when vying for the Courier’s first-ever sports internship. Turk, a former fraternity brother of Walter Sr. at Penn State, had agreed to give his buddy’s son the inside track. If nothing else, the kid was amusing during his interview, interjecting the occasional Cosell-accented, Perhaps that remains to be determined or further illuminated. . . On attitude alone, Turk decided to take him on.

Quite the unlikely pairing.

Turk was a 40-year veteran who’d personally reported on Franco Harris’s Immaculate Reception and who would eventually earn his way into the Pennsylvania Sportswriters Hall of Fame.

The string bean kid, on the other hand, had a lot to learn. His indoctrination commenced on Day One of employment with a tour of the engine room, a brick-walled enclosure behind the trailer where Turk stashed a mini-fridge full of Miller Lite.

Turk was a kind, generous soul, despite his gruff exterior. Over the ensuing 20 years leading up to the turn of the millennium, he put Dake to work, no doubt about it. At the same time, he kept things lively with nuggets of wisdom (e.g., never give anybody an ultimatum) and weekly betting tips, supposedly straight from some guys who had inside information from sharks in Vegas.

Turk also knew of Walter Sr.’s failing health and gave the kid a week off when, not long after starting the job, his dad passed. Going forward, he kept a watchful eye on Dake, doling out increasing responsibility along the way.

So for Turk to start the day with a talk, something was seriously up.

Listen, he said to Dake while twisting open a Lite, you may already be aware if you follow all the Internet crap, but there’s this company called Elbow.com. They just IPO’d last month at a valuation of $25 billion. Apparently, they sell pasta online, but they want to get into media in a big way, so they’re buying a footprint.

A footprint? asked Dake. Can you dumb it down for me?

"You know how AOL bought Time? Yeah, so basically, you and I will be Elbow employees a week from now. Elbow bought the Courier along with a couple hundred other papers across the country. If I were you, I’d think about making a move. I have a connection at the Inquirer who says he needs a reporter pretty quickly. Get your clips together, I’ll make the call. You’re ready for this."

Wow, muttered Dake. That’s a lot to take in. Philadelphia… hmmm. What about you?

"Yeah, well, Doris has been bugging me for 10 years to move to Boca. My Courier stock is vested, so the timing is about as good as it’s ever gonna get."

Turk winked at Dake. "Put this on the front burner. That Inquirer job won’t be there much longer. And the same could be said about Elbow.com, if you follow my drift."

Outside of gambling advice, Turk’s word was generally gold. So Dake nodded in agreement.

For good measure, Turk added, I mean, for fuck’s sake, who in their right mind ever heard of selling pasta online?

DAKE’S BATTERED DODGE Stratus rattled west along the Pennsylvania Turnpike, the wide Susquehanna winding through the rocky landscape up ahead at Columbia. That morning’s interview with Inquirer Sports Editor Michael Downing seemed to have gone well, especially when Downing mentioned, I saw your clips. I can push this through.

So it was on to Philly in short order. Dake would be covering high school sports for an audience of 400,000 daily readers, twice that on Sundays. He’d also be soaking in wisdom from a top-notch staff of writers and editors who knew how to sniff out a good story. Naturally, he took more than his share of shit as the low man on the newsroom totem pole, much of it deserved, but didn’t mind the ribbing. Soon enough, he’d be joining the gang for beers at Dirty Frank’s at almost any hour and for almost any occasion.

After paying his dues with high school coverage for several years, Dake got his first real shot filling in for the Inquirer’s college football writer, who had moved on to take a sideline reporter gig with CBS. Dake’s new beat followed the Philly-area schools—Temple, Villanova, Penn, and Delaware—plus a weekly preview feature on Penn State’s upcoming opponent. He plugged away for a solid decade, getting to know coaches, players, school administrators, league officials, and even some broadcasters. When the Jerry Sandusky scandal broke at Penn State, he filed exclusive interviews with non-scholarship athletes who represented the school and played admirably under new coach Bill O’Brien.

That experience prepped him to compete for an open columnist position, which would be featured prominently in the Sunday edition and on the paper’s website. When Dake found out that he’d landed the columnist job, he recalled the wobbly lawn chair in Turk’s office years ago. It had been a long road, as the wise man had predicted, but worth every step. Persistence and diligence had helped, but so had the ability to not take things too seriously.

Tomorrow is another day, Turk always used to say, often after a swig of Miller. Make of it what you will.

THE PROGRESSION, if that’s what it truly was, from print to digital and visual media ushered in a new era of opportunity for former reporters to become on-air personalities. The likes of Dan Shaughnessy, Tony Kornheiser, Michael Wilbon, Stephen A. Smith, and Skip Bayless paved the way for people with a strong take—not just ex-jocks—to stir up viewers and listeners. Like them or hate them, people tuned in to hear what they had to say and followed them across social media. Management became engrossed in the metrics of engagement, often with little regard for what was actually being said.

In contrast, Dake wanted to maintain a voice of reason in his video and podcast spots for Philly.com, now the central repository for content that in the past would’ve run in the print-edition Inquirer. He was never the type to shout his opinions; instead, Dake wanted to go into each piece with background research whenever possible. His segments usually opened with a fairly lengthy and detailed monologue on a theme rather than specific game results and reaction from the prior four hours.

He wanted to talk about the story behind the story. It wasn’t so much whether a certain receiver’s knee touched the ground before the ball crossed into the end zone, but rather, whether that receiver should have been permitted to play in the first place, given pending domestic violence allegations against him.

Dake’s approach went against the grain, particularly among Philly.com’s executive team, populated by entrepreneurial hotshots from places like Palo Alto, Cambridge, and Austin. They wanted fresh content, slickly packaged and ready for consumption via mobile device. Breaking News should be applied liberally, they reminded him. The Content and Operations VPs said they’d give Dake a chance, about six months, to show that he could get as many viewers as Philly.com’s recently lauded slideshow Top 10 Hottest Wives and Girlfriends of the PGA Tour, which had nearly crashed company’s servers.

It was a tall task, but Dake knew he had no choice but to rise to the challenge. At the same time, though, he needed to stay true to his convictions. 35-and-under isn’t the only key demographic, he thought. There are a lot of people out there my own age who still might like a little enlightened dialogue.

So he set to work, not on Aggressive Iguanas Invade Jaguars’ Facility as suggested in that afternoon’s story-pitch session, but on topics that would resonate with 60-somethings.

Once again, a piece of sage advice from Turk rang true: If all else fails, hit ’em where they’re not looking.

FACING AN ULTIMATUM of his own, Dake reflected on Turk’s prior wisdom: There’s always a way out.

In Dake’s case, he clearly saw that Philly.com held his writing in low regard. Too bad, he thought, I’m producing the best work of my career. You’d notice if you ever took time to read it. Oh well, your loss.

Dake scrolled through the contacts on his phone. There it was: Davis Gladstone, VP of programming at Global Sports Network.

Dake had interviewed Davis for a video segment nearly four years prior, not long after GSN’s launch. The story had some local flavor, with GSN headquartered in Chester County taking on ESPN, the Godzilla of sports media. Not a bad setup. Plus, Davis was a great interview, wildly excited about the prospect of age-agnostic broadcasting. The company was growing like wildfire and, as Davis explained, hiring people from all walks of life who have something to offer.

After the crew finished taping the segment, Davis thanked Dake for conducting a fair interview. You did a nice job, said Davis. Maybe you should come check us out, he responded with a laugh, leaving his business card behind.

Dake did exactly that, scheduling the highly telegenic Davis for twice yearly exclusives on the state of sports broadcasting. The segments were ratings gold every time, as Davis criticized ESPN and other major outlets for cutting journalist jobs and running robot-created content. He didn’t mind being viewed as the underdog maverick.

At the end of their most recent meeting, just a few months earlier, Davis had tapped at an imaginary watch on his wrist. The Damian Lil-lard gesture was intended for Dake, seated beside him.

Need to know, man, said Davis. Sorry to bring the pressure here, but now’s the time to get in. I’ve got the budget for this. You and a guy who I will hand-select will run your own show. We’ve been talking about this forever. What’s the holdup?

Dake ran his hands through the thin strands of his remaining hair. You know what? You’re right. I’ve spent a lot of time agonizing over this, but I know it’s right to at least give it a try. I guess I’m just scared, to be honest.

Scared about what? That you’ll conclude your career as a distinguished broadcaster? That you’ll be working for somebody who believes in you?

That’s not it. Scared to fail.

Hey, none of us would be standing here right now in our respective positions if we hadn’t overcome that at some point, probably many points. It’s a risk worth taking, right? If it doesn’t work out… no harm, no foul. You can go back to being your miserable self doing whatever the fuck you do all day.

Okay, you sold me with that last line, Dake said with a smile. He held up his hands. I’m in.

Davis shook Dake’s shoulders. I knew you’d come around. This is great. I’ll get things started on my end with HR, then you’ll just need to come in and run through the process. I’ll have the final say. Call me next week if the timing is good and I’ll give you an update.

The path forward was clear. Philly.com had given Dake an ultimatum—Do it our way, Old Boy—but he’d found a way out. He’d leave behind a legacy of hundreds of bylined articles, all of which, he believed, had been written to the best of his abilities. He had no regrets. In fact, Dake felt relieved of a burden as he called Davis to set up his interview appointment at GSN.

Details and practicalities could be dealt with later. After this initial rush, he’d proceed systematically, as he’d always done. Secure the new job. Quit the old job. Move on from there.

But he didn’t want to move in the literal sense. He and his wife would remain in the Montgomery County house they’d lived in for 25 years. The only real difference would be commuting to Chester County instead of downtown Philly.

Ah, I’ll get used to it, thought Dake. It’s a risk worth taking.

3

BILLY BATES ENTERED THE LOBBY of Global Sports Network on a crisp January morning to begin his new journey. It was the first time in many years that he had reported to work for a new employer and Billy was understandably nervous. He was most certainly taking a big risk in pursuit of his dream. Today would be his first opportunity to get a better sense of how things might unfold.

After asking the receptionist to announce his arrival, Billy settled into a chair in the lobby. He quickly scanned the pictures and sports memorabilia lining the wall of the waiting area and checked his cell phone for messages. Billy smiled as he read a text from his wife wishing him well. Looking up from his phone, he noticed the arrival of a tall and lanky gentleman who looked to be roughly his age. He introduced himself to the receptionist as Walter Dockery and Billy overheard that he was also asking to see Davis Gladstone.

Walter was embarking on a new journey as well and was feeling the same uneasiness that comes with uncertain experiences. Walter’s risks were different from Billy’s, but the changes in their respective career paths were equally real.

As Walter settled into a chair across from Billy, they both could sense the tension in the air. Their nervousness swelled in anticipation for what might lie ahead, and both privately hoped they would not piss away the unique opportunity that had been presented to them.

As they each struggled to establish their composure, Davis Gladstone appeared in the lobby and approached them. "Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any for the hosts of the Dake and Bates Show to meet each other," Davis exclaimed.

Billy and Walter both shook Davis’s hand before introducing themselves to each other. Walter explained that he generally goes by the name Dake and quickly recapped the origin of his nickname to Billy.

In the next few weeks, we’ll see just how well the good doctor operates, Davis punned on their way back to his office. As they entered, he motioned to his assistant, Wendy Weir, who resembled the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Get Johnson and Simpson up here. We have a big day ahead of us.

Barrett Simpson was slated to be the