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Alexei

Fine. If you want to be childish I cannot stop you

lollll like I’m the childish one here

Good luck in Chicago let me know if you need anything

CHAPTER 10

gobblegoals (December 13, 2022): Everett has looked like shit this year. I don’t know that he’ll even hit 30 goals on the season. This is a man who almost hit 70 only a few years ago wtf happened? That’s a rhetorical question: Alexei Sokolov left and now Everett doesn’t know how to score.

↪ turkeytalk: Everett’s numbers are down but that whole first line has struggled since day one. They keep slotting in new centers but none of them can hang with Everett and Novak in terms of speed and minutes and playmaking. They might be able to do one of the three but not all. Turkeys need to figure out how to fix that top line. Seems every other night they’ve changed it up.

abqturkeysnhl (January 23, 2023): BREAKING NEWS! The Turkeys have acquired Luc-Henri Baptiste from the LA Devils for a 5th round pick in the 2024 draft. Baptiste was drafted third overall in the 2017 draft by the Carolina Reapers. He’s in his sixth NHL season, has 221 career points, and a 52.1% career face-off win rate. Welcome to Albuquerque! Bienvenue à Albuquerque!

↪ turkeytalk: thank fuck we have a center like Baptiste on the team again… we’ve really been hurting without Sokolov.

↪ gobblegoals: isn’t Baptiste….not as good as they made him out to be pre-draft…? like look at the guys drafted before him in 2017, they’ve got way more points than him…… should we not be wondering why we got him so cheap? lots of rumors that he’s not coachable….

↪ turkeytalk: “not coachable” is coach speak for “I fucked up and have no idea what to do with this guy.” Mark my words, LHB will be amazing for us.

Luc-Henri Baptiste wasn’t happy in LA. He’d made no secret of it, complaining to his agent, the coaches, sometimes even the media. He got no clear direction from the coaching staff about what they wanted from him or where he stood, and he was trapped in a cycle of following bad advice, playing badly and getting yelled at for it, ignoring bad advice and playing well, but getting yelled at for not listening. He was frustrated—he’s been frustrated for years—and it showed.

When he got the call that he’d been traded, Henri wasn’t surprised. He was a little pissed off about it, because the Devils never gave him a fair shot and now they were washing their hands of him like he was the problem, but it was almost a relief. There's the stress of starting over, sure, but it felt like a noose had been removed from his neck; he can breathe for the first time in a year and a half.

“Where are they sending me?” Henri asked around a yawn. He didn’t like the 7 a.m. wake-up call, but he’d definitely take the first flight out of this place.

“Albuquerque,” his agent said. “The Turkeys got you for a fifth-round pick.”

Was he really worth so little? He’d been third overall in 2017. Six years later, they wouldn’t even have been able to draft him with a fifth-round pick.

“Text me the flight details,” he said, voice thick with emotions he didn’t want to pick through. “Get me out of this shithole.”

Luckily, he didn’t have much to pack.

Henri waited until he was at the airport to call his dad with the news. He needed the time to process it first, to psych himself up so he wouldn’t sound angry.

“Papa, I’ve been traded,” he said in French. That was the one thing he liked about LA: no one batted an eye when they heard a language other than English. “I’m going to Albuquerque. It’s in, uhm… New Mexico. Near Texas, I think.” His understanding of American geography was shaky at best, but certainly better than his father’s.

“Oh.” Whatever his father felt about the trade, there was no trace of it in his voice. “Are you happy?”

“I don’t know,” Henri confessed. “The Turkeys aren’t any better or worse than the Devils.” Not in a good playoff position this season, but they’d been contenders in the past. It could be worse, team-wise. “It will be nice to get a fresh start.”

There aren’t any fresh starts, not really. After his disastrous end in Carolina, he’d thought starting over with the Ice Owls would help him regain his footing in the league. When that had fallen apart, he’d hoped that moving to the Western Conference would do the trick. Now it was a new team in a new division, midway through the season. Maybe he should get a punch card. Almost half a dozen now.

“I wish you could play at home,” his father grumbled. “Would be good to see you in royal blue.”

A few years ago, Henri would've agreed. Every kid secretly dreams of playing for their childhood team, and he’d been no different. He wanted Quebec to draft him, but they'd won the Cup that year and ended up with the last pick. There was no chance he’d go to the Fleur-de-lis, and after how poorly his career has gone, Henri was glad he’d never embarrassed himself at home, in front of people who might've known him as a boy. If he’d failed in Quebec, how could he ever feel at ease at home again?

No, he would never play for Quebec. Never wear the royal blue. Henri had let that dream go years ago.

“I know, Papa,” he said instead. “I’ll see if the Turkeys have played there yet this year. I’ll get you tickets.”

This soothed his father, who then wished him luck and a good flight. Henri was certain he’d need as much luck as he could get: this was probably his last chance to prove to the league he wasn’t a joke.

A handler found Henri as soon as he stepped off the plane, guiding him to a car that would take him to the team practice facility.

“We’ll do photos, get you situated, meet the coaches⁠—”