“Tell that to the kids who’ve seen the video.”
He has a point. The video’s everywhere. These kids have probably watched it a dozen times.
“So what am I supposed to tell them? Don’t assault people at charity events?”
“Tell them about teamwork. About protecting your teammates the right way. About making smart decisions under pressure.” Noah glances at the kids on the ice. “Tell them what you wish someone had told you when you were their age.”
I swallow a snort. That’s a more loaded question than he knows.
“And if they ask about the video?”
“Be honest. You made a mistake. You let your emotions override your judgment. You’re working to do better.” He looks back at me. “Think you can handle that?”
“Yeah. I can handle that.”
“Good. You’re on in ten minutes.” He starts to walk away, then pauses to cast a look over his shoulder. “And Masterson? Try to smile. You look like you’re about to check someone into the boards.”
“I always look like this.”
“I know. It’s terrifying.”
He walks off, and I’m left standing there trying to figure out if that was an insult or a compliment.
Probably an insult.
I head onto the ice and skate over to where the older kids are gathered in a group. They stop what they’re doing immediately, all eyes on me.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m Danny Masterson. You guys ready to work on some drills?”
One kid who’s maybe eleven and wearing a Raptors jersey with my number on it raises his hand.
“Are you the guy who beat up that fan?”
Direct. Gotta respect that.
“I’m the guy who made a bad decision atPuck Fest, yeah.”
“My dad says you’re a hero. Says that guy deserved it.”
“My mom says you should be banned from hockey,” another kid chimes in.
Great. I’ve been here all of two minutes and I’m already getting hit with parenting philosophy debates from twelve-year-olds.
“Both your parents have a point,” I say. “The guy was being a jerk. But the way I handled it was wrong. There were better options.”
“Like what?” the first kid asks.
“Like getting security. Like using my words instead of my fists. Like thinking about consequences before I acted.”
“But he was saying bad stuff about Barnes,” the kid says. “You were protecting your teammate.”
“I was. And protecting your teammates is important. But there’s a difference between standing up for someone and assaulting someone.”
“What’s the difference?”
I think about Noah’s carefully crafted statements, about all the PR spin crap I’ve been fed over the last few days. Then I decide to just come clean and tell them the truth.
“The difference is control. I lost control. Got so mad that I stopped thinking and just reacted. That’s not protecting someone. That’s just being violent.”
