Just not about the game.
Every shift, I’m calculating. I know Winters is watching. Probably taking screenshots. Definitely building his case against her.
So I need to build mine faster. Better. Strong enough to destroy him when he makes his move.
Back at thehotel I claim shoulder soreness and lock myself in my room with my phone and laptop.
First call: former defenseman, three seasons with us, career ended at twenty-six after a hip injury.
He picks up on the third ring.
“Varga?”
“Yeah. Thanks for taking my call.”
“You’re going after Winters.” His voice is cautious. “That true?”
“Our head PT stood up to him about rushing an injured player back. He’s going to retaliate. I’m gathering evidence that his protocols are dangerous.”
“What do you need from me?”
“Your story. If you’re willing.”
He’s so quiet I think the call has dropped, when he speaks again, his voice is rough.
“You know what Winters told me when my hip wouldn’t stop hurting three weeks after the initial injury? That I was being ‘mentally weak.’ That the injury was healed and I just needed to push through the pain.”
I’m already taking notes.
“Grade two strain?”
“Yeah. And he wanted me back in three weeks for playoffs.” The bitterness bleeds through. “I trusted him. Pushed through. Made it worse. Developed a complete tear that required surgery. Been dealing with chronic pain ever since. Had to retire at twenty-six.”
“You have medical records?”
“All of it. Initial diagnosis, Winters’ clearance three weeks later, the surgery records showing the tear he said wouldn’t happen. It’s all documented.” He stops. “Your PT—the one who stood up to him—what’s her name?”
“Dr. Walker. Marnie.”
“She’s doing the right thing. Someone should’ve stopped him years ago.” His voice hardens. “You need more than just me though. One player could be coincidence. You need a pattern.”
“I know. You know anyone else?”
“Donovan. He’s coaching junior hockey in Miami now. Winters cleared him from a PCL sprain in ten days. Ten fucking days. Turned into a complete tear that ended his career at twenty-seven.”
“Can you send me his contact?”
“Yeah. And Varga? When you take Winters down, make it hurt. He’s destroyed too many careers pretending to know better than actual medicine.”
After we hang up, I stare at my notes.
Two players, both with documented negligence. Both careers ended by Winters’ ego.
But he’s right. I need more. Need it to be undeniable.
I call Donovan. He picks up immediately, like he’s been waiting.
“Varga. Heard you’re collecting war stories about that bastard Winters.”
