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“Yes.” I’m praying they agree to my proposal.
Although I have a better idea about what I want to do with my future and have a meeting with someone located in New Jersey. He might be the key to helping me have a more sustainable and healthier career in hockey.
“Whatever you decide, we’ll support you.” He punches my shoulder and then looks over it. “Does Jordan look like he’s limping?” Brayden mutters under his breath, skating to my side again.
I stop in the middle of the ice, waiting for the team to join us and sure enough Jordan Miller, wingman, all-round top guy who never complains, looks like he is struggling with his right leg.
Observing his movement and facial expressions, I suspect he has a knee injury and is trying to mask it. “Jordy.” I skate over to him and wrap my arm around his neck, ushering him away from his teammates.
Some of the guys don’t mind it if you know they have an injury, while others, like Jordy, will do everything in their power to hide one for fear of making them look weak, even to their own teammates.
“You good?” I ask, pulling him in closer to my side, my ear in line with his.
“Top notch, Coach. Ready to go,” he says confidently when I know he’s struggling.
“Good to hear.” I drop my voice. “Then why are you limping?”
He looks off to the right, as if embarrassed I caught him lying.
“If you train today, you could cause more damage. Or worse, something irreparable. Is it your knee?” The way he isn’t putting pressure down on his foot tells me he can’t fully extend his leg.
“Fuck.” He pulls off his helmet, knowing I won’t allow him to train today.
We move over to the boards and stand against them. Still facing away from everyone, I give him a minute to let the reality set in; he’s not just missing training today, but possibly another two weeks of it, if not more.
The guys love me because I’m a great coach. Firm but fair. A player, first and foremost, I know the physical pressures these guys put their bodies through. It’s grueling and hard hitting to the point of insanity, and not everybody can handle the intense training and game schedule.
It’s left a lasting impact on my body and I groan like an eighty-year-old man getting out of bed most mornings. My hips and knees are shot to pieces.
“I turned to the side too quickly in training and twisted my knee yesterday,” he confesses, without me having to push him.
I pat him on the back. “Which means you either have a ligament or cartilage issue.” Both common injuries for hockey players. “I want you to change out of your gear and then go see the training team. We need scans of your knee today. I’ll call ahead to let Tim know you’re on your way up.” Tim is the head physical therapist. One of the best in the country, and I know he’ll have scans and a full email report to me by the end of today. Although I won’t be there when that lands, I plan to leave early and spend more time with Lily tonight.
“If I catch you lying again, though, Jordan, you’ll be missing more than just a handful of games. You’re no good to us injured. Got it?”
“Coach.” He acknowledges the meaning behind my words. I don’t have to tell him that he’s easily replaceable.
The world of hockey is savage.
“From the look of you, I think you’ll need therapy, physical treatment, and a session with the counselor is available if needed. When you get back on the ice, I want one hundred percent of you on it. But if we see your mental health start to decline or a slip in confidence, and you haven’t taken me up on the offer, then there’ll be hell to pay. Understood?”
I care about my players both physically and mentally. Hitting the ice at the speed they do can be difficult if they don’t do the mental work to build their self-confidence. When their minds are strong, it makes their physical bodies even stronger.
“Understood. Thank you, Coach.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow after we get your scan back.” Dismissing him, he nods, skating away from me and I glide across the ice toward my next challenge of the day; drills.
And as soon as this is over, it’s a meeting with management. My thoughts drift to what I’m going to say when raised voices steal my attention.
“What the fuck did you just say about my mom?” Wade smashes his helmet down on the ice and launches himself at Zane Edwards, our goalie, and I’m skating at full speed toward them breaking them up in a flash, my hip screaming at me to stop.
Fuck my life.
I’m too old for this shit.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ash
