Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 364 - 173: Rodman Moment

At the mention of the name, Stern’s brow furrowed.

"Daniel, you need to keep him in line."

"He was the one who came up with this plan, and he was the one who cobbled this alliance together. That’s good. It proves he has a brain."

"But he’s too wild."

"That whole stunt he pulled in Pittsburgh—suing the government, inciting strikes... I even heard he’s messing with some kind of credit certificate system."

"He’s walking a tightrope with all of this."

"Now we’ve opened the door and let his people in."

"What if he screws it up?"

"What if that Leo Wallace causes some kind of racism scandal one day?"

"What if that group of Republican mayors who just joined our ranks says something they shouldn’t to the media, like attacking the President’s immigration policy?"

"If something like that happens, who will the media blame?"

Stern’s fingers rapped heavily on the desk.

"They’ll say it’s a failure on the part of the White House, the decay of the Democratic Party."

"So, Daniel."

"You’re his guarantor."

"You have to watch him like a hawk."

"Put a bridle on him."

"Tell him that if he makes any headlines in Pennsylvania that embarrass the President or disgrace the party on a national level..."

"I will hold you personally accountable."

"And when that happens, don’t blame me for not being sentimental. I will cut off all resources to your little Progressive caucus."

Faced with Stern’s threat, Sanders showed no fear.

On the contrary, he smiled.

His smile was cunning, confident, and utterly in control.

"Don’t worry, David."

Sanders stood and straightened his suit jacket.

"The kid is a lot smarter than you think."

"He knows where the lines are."

"If he can wrap this group of Republican mayors around his finger, he knows how to maintain the alliance’s public image."

"What he wants is to win, not chaos."

"Deal."

Sanders extended his hand.

Stern looked at the hand, hesitated for a second, and finally shook it.

"Deal."

Sanders withdrew his hand, picked up the blue folder on the table, and turned toward the door.

Halfway there, he stopped as if he had suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, right, David."

Sanders looked back.

"About that center," Sanders said, "I have a suggestion."

Stern rubbed his temples. This particular problem was clearly giving him a headache.

"You have a way to make him wear a suit?"

"No. If we try to stop him, *that* becomes the story."

Sanders chuckled.

"Let him wear what he wants."

"Even if it’s a T-shirt with a slogan on it."

"But you can have the press secretary issue a statement."

"Just say that the reason this star athlete isn’t wearing an expensive, custom-tailored suit is that he donated the money he would have spent on it to a community fund for underprivileged children in his hometown."

"It’s his own special way of paying tribute to working-class people."

"The President expresses his highest admiration and praises him as a compassionate champion."

Stern was stunned.

He looked at Sanders, a flicker of astonishment in his eyes.

This was an effective public relations solution.

It resolved the White House’s awkward situation, transformed the athlete’s protest into a positive story about charity, and even burnished the President’s public-friendly image.

If the player heard that explanation, he’d be in no position to object and would have to go along with it.

"You old fox."

Stern couldn’t help but curse with a laugh.

"You’re still as good as ever at turning a bad situation into a good one."

"This is politics, David."

Sanders shrugged.

"Control of the narrative is always more important than the facts."

"Just like what we’re doing in Pennsylvania."

"They aren’t a group of opportunistic politicians. They’re the awakened power of the blue-collar workforce."

"If you tell the story well enough, you can turn garbage into gold."

After speaking, Sanders pushed open the door and strode out.

Stern stood in his office, watching Sanders’s disappearing back.

He glanced again at the Bulls team photo on his desk.

Rodman was still tilting his head in the photo.

’They’re all a bunch of troublemakers.’

Stern shook his head helplessly.

He picked up the phone and dialed the press secretary’s extension.

"Listen, I have a new narrative for the issue with the center’s attire..."