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Chapter22
Pete
“So, let me get this straight," Mayor Libby leaned back in her chair. “This all adds up to a suggestion that the town should buy the Cold Pines Cougars?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying.” I leaned forward toward the grand, hand-carved desk. "Think about it—the Cougars aren't just a team; they're a vital part of this community. Ownership by the town will ensure that it stays this way. What would Green Bay be without their football team?”
She touched her fingertips together as she considered my suggestion. “And how do you propose we pay for this venture?"
"Through municipal bonds, for starters," I said. I placed a folder on her desk with more details of my financial research. “The town could use a cut of the ticket and merchandise sales as well as potential naming rights and sponsorships. News of this decision is sure to boost tourist revenue as well. Eventually, the Cougars could be a significant revenue generator for other town projects.”
Mayor Libby opened the folder and leafed through the papers. “You’ve done your homework, Pete.”
"I had to if I hoped for you to take it seriously. This isn't a pie-in-the-sky idea. It's a proposition for a serious investment in the future of Cold Pines."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And what about management? Who will run the team?"
"We'd set up a board of directors," I explained. "Representatives from the town council, the team's staff, and elected community members could sit on the board. The team's office and coaching staff would report to them.”
Mayor Libby smiled. "You're quite the strategist. Are you sure you're in the right profession?"
I chuckled. "I've always been a team player, on and off the ice, and right now, I want what's best for my team and my town. They happen to be the same thing."
She set the papers down and leaned back again. “Okay, you've got yourself a deal. I'll put this on the council's agenda for discussion. They will decide whether to bring it to a formal vote.”
I exhaled deeply, relief washing over me. I’d cleared the first hurdle. My phone suddenly buzzed with a text message from Hoss.
"Eddie's decided to accept the offer. Team meeting in 30. Get to the arena.”
Shit. I thanked the mayor, told her about the urgent meeting, and rushed to the arena.
The locker room was buzzing when I arrived. Hoss called together all the players who lived and worked out in town during the off-season.
The players spoke in low voices. Hoss stood near Eddie, who looked like a kid on Christmas morning—excited but also a little overwhelmed.
Spotting me, Hoss wasted no time. He clapped his hands. “Listen up!" The chatter stopped abruptly. "I've got an announcement to make. Eddie's been called up to the NHL."
A storm of cheers and whoops erupted. Players stomped the floor and pounded on the benches. Eddie's face lit up as he absorbed their reactions.
"That's our boy, Eddie!" someone yelled.
"You're gonna tear it up, man!"
Eddie raised his hands to quiet the celebration to a dull roar. "Thanks, guys. Seriously, thank you. I couldn't have done it without every single one of you. This team and this town have given me everything."
Silence started to reign as the weight of Eddie's words settled in. We were more than coaches and teammates; we were his family. And as proud as we were, saying goodbye wasn’t easy.
“Okay, let's not get too sappy about it,” I stepped in, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. "We've got a championship to defend in the fall. Eddie, you go and make us proud up there. Show 'em what a Cougar is made of, and we’ll make you proud of your legacy here.”
His grin was wide, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Promise, Coach. When I make it to the Stanley Cup, tickets are on me, okay?"
Hoss pulled him in for a crushing hug. "You set the bar high, kid. Now go jump the hell over it."
Eddie circulated through the room, soaking up the well-wishes like a sponge. When he got to me, his expression changed—like he suddenly realized this was it.
"Thanks, Coach Z," he said softly, gripping my shoulder. "For believing in me and for kicking my ass when I needed it."
I clapped his shoulder again, swallowing down the lump in my throat. "Go get 'em, rookie."
