Page 134 of Slapshot Baby

Then Hargrove says, "Your roster spot is confirmed. The captaincy, however, will remain with the current interim leadership structure through preseason."

My hands are on the armrests. I feel my fingers dig into the leather before I register telling them to.

"You're pulling my C."

"I'm placing it under review. The leadership group that formed during your absence has been effective. Reinstating a captaincy designation without assessing how the current team dynamics function under that change creates avoidable risk."

"I built that leadership group. I selected Jordan for the defensive corps. I put Easton on the analysis side because his brain processes the game faster than anyone I've played with. Those were my decisions."

"And they were good ones. The structure works."

"It works because I designed it to function with or without me on the ice. That's what captains do. They build systems that survive. The fact that it held while I was gone proves the leadership, not disproves it."

"It proves the system. I need to evaluate whether the system still needs its architect on the ice, or whether it's evolved past that requirement."

The sentence makes me cringe. I didn't come here to defend my right to exist on this team. I came to collect what I already earned.

But now I'm negotiating because the GM is making me look like I'm a scaffold he’s ready to pull down now that the building stands on its own.

"Name one metric I haven't hit."

He shakes his head. "This isn't about metrics."

"Everything you just said about my roster clearance is about metrics. My medical numbers. My conditioning numbers. Brennan's evaluation. They’re all data. But somehow the captaincy gets decided by something you can't measure and can't define."

"Leadership is observable. I intend to observe it."

"Then come to the rink tomorrow morning to watch me run a session and the guys respond to me. Theo defers to me on the penalty kill setup. Jordan checks with me before adjusting defensive pairs. They kept these habits because they still see me as their captain."

"And I want to confirm that during camp, in a controlled environment, over a meaningful stretch."

"How long?"

"Six weeks."

"So I walk into that locker room for camp without the letter. Every player in that room sees an empty jersey where the C used to be and draws their own conclusion about what that means."

"They'll see a player who earned his way back to the roster after a serious injury. That's not a small thing."

I snort.

He closes the folder, laces his fingers together on top of it. His expression is too calm, meaning none of my arguments are reaching him.

My pulse is loud in my ears. The back of my shirt has started getting damp.

"Who else is being considered?" I ask.

"Nobody is being considered. The position is vacant pending evaluation."

Right. So he’s not going to answer me.

I stare at him. This man has never taped his own ankles.

He’s never walked into a locker room after a loss and found the right words when twenty guys were staring at the floor. He’s never sat beside a rookie who just got his jaw broken by a dirty hit.

And he's already decided whether I've earned the right to lead.

"I scored the overtime winner that gave this franchise its first championship in thirty-one years. I've taken hits that put me in the hospital twice before this one.”