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MacMullan with Globe writer Dan Shaughnessy.

Not one to bear a grudge, MacMullan went on to establish good working relationships with some of the athletes who initially resented her presence, like former Red Sox pitcher Bruce Hurst, and she developed not only great respect but great affection for Auerbach. (She still wonders, though, if New England Patriots coach Bill Belichik will ever take her seriously.) Today she finds that the younger male athletes think nothing of seeing a woman in the locker room.

Just as MacMullan had prided herself on working harder than other players on the basketball court, she was determined to do the same on the job. When she started covering the Celtics in 1988, she was the only reporter who attended both morning and evening practices during preseason training camp. When Larry Bird failed to appear for the annual Celtics media day, she found him at an evening practice, ready to vent. Angry about contract negotiations and convinced that the general manager was treating him like a rookie, the 32-year-old star vowed to negotiate only with Red Auerbach, then president of the team. MacMullan's story on Bird's discontent sparked a new, and successful, round of negotiations.

Competition was a powerful motivator for the young reporter. "There was nothing worse than getting up in the morning, looking at the other paper--and they had something that you didn't have," she says. "I just hated it." In 1989, she got permission from her boss to stay home for Christmas and meet the Celtics on the West Coast the next day. A Boston Herald reporter, on the other hand, flew with them and got the scoop on the contract extension guard Dennis Johnson was about to sign. "I got beat because I spent Christmas with my family," she says. "I didn't have any children then. I did the wrong thing."

Terry Francona autographing baseballs.

At the time, MacMullan was on the road perhaps 250 days a year, and she eventually traveled to 48 states, South Korea, China, and several other countries. Although she missed countless weddings and ski weekends, she didn't mind the travel--until the birth of her daughter, Alyson, in 1992. She hit a low point the following spring during the NBA quarterfinals. When the Bulls failed to clinch the series against the Suns in Chicago, she found herself flying west for Game 7 instead of east to husband Michael Boyle '82 and 1-year-old Alyson in Westford, Mass.

When she got to Phoenix, MacMullan was so distraught that she left her bags at the airport and boarded the next flight home. She didn't talk to her boss, sports editor Don Skwar, for five days. When she finally did, she was convinced that she had to quit. But Skwar urged her to stay on and travel less.

From Skwar's point of view, MacMullan was definitely worth keeping. To be a good journalist, one must a good reporter, a good interviewer and a good writer, he says, "and she's off the charts in all three categories." Her current boss, Globe sports editor Joe Sullivan, adds that MacMullan has a singular ability to get people to share their innermost secrets. "They want to tell her their life's story."

MacMullan with the press.

In January 2005, Tedy Bruschi, a New England Patriots linebacker and two-time Super Bowl winner, talked with MacMullan about his early years as a pro. "I was crazy on the field, and I was crazy off it," he confided. "I had a chip on my shoulder the size of a boulder." He traced his struggles with aggression and anger back his parents' divorce and the class warfare in his hometown. "Did you ever see the movie 'The Outsiders'?" he asked. "Well, the Oakmont kids were the socs [socialites]. We were the greasers." For the first time in print, he also revealed that he had licked a drinking problem for the sake of his wife and kids.

Shortly after MacMullan's story came out, Bruschi suffered a mild stroke at the age of 31. He turned away hundreds of requests for interviews. When he decided to break his silence six months later, however, he dialed MacMullan's cell phone.

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