We’ve been summoned to our first meeting as the new team, and my stomach is in knots. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake because I feel like a fraud.
Glancing around, I see some familiar faces. Gage Heyward is a veteran player, and we’ve played against each other. He’s well-respected, and I expect that’s why he’s on the team.
Coen Highsmith is another one, highly recognizable as a member of what has been referred to as the Lucky Three.
They’re the three Titans players who weren’t on the doomed plane: Coen, due to the flu, and the other two, Camden Poe and Hendrix Bateman, due to minor injuries.
Camden and Hendrix are sitting together, but Coen is off by himself in the last row opposite me. He’s slumped in his chair, surfing his phone. Definitely unapproachable, but I figure the guy has a lot of fucking weight on his shoulders.
Most of the other guys are up from the minors, and I know them from my stint there as well. Not anyone I know well, though, as relationships don’t seem to foster as thickly at that level as they do in the pros.
More players straggle in, and I take the opportunity to check my messages. Yesterday I let Bethany know I had arrived safe and sound. It’s nice to have her worry over me. She made me promise to call after my first day to tell her all the details, and I’ll do that later tonight when I get to my apartment.
I can’t help the irritation that comes with merely seeing my dad’s name in my texts. The man has barely paid attention to me in three years—since I lost my footing with the Eagles—and didn’t try to offer any solace when Brooks died.
Now he won’t leave me the fuck alone.
Now that I’m on a professional team again.
His latest message is offensive. Let me know when you get family tickets. Mom and I will fly to as many games as we can if you can help us with the tickets. Otherwise, we’ll drive.
That’s it. No checking to see how I’m doing, no supportive words, no affirmation. Just wanting to know when he can be a hockey dad again now that Brooks is dead.
Fuck him.
I turn off my phone just as one of the doors opens and Brienne Norcross strolls in with Callum Derringer behind her. I’d noticed the coaches were already seated in the front row, and I had a chance to talk to all of them when I arrived earlier. Even the goalie coach, Baden Oulett, made a point of introducing himself, although we won’t really be working together.
The room was mostly quiet before, none of the players openly talking. Now it’s dead silent as the Titans’ owner, Brienne Norcross, moves to the center. I realize that she and I have something in common… we both lost siblings on the plane. I haven’t had the chance to meet her yet, but she sent me a nice welcome email after I accepted the offer and also extended her condolences.
Brienne makes a sound low in her throat, perhaps clearing it. She looks nervous, but determined. “Gentlemen… you must know first that I owe every one of you an apology.”
I jolt in surprise—that is not what I expected for the opening line from the owner. I look left and right and see I’m not the only one perplexed by this.
But then she goes on to tell us that she is going to make mistakes, and she would ask us to bear with her.
Give her grace is what she requests.
In as humble a fashion as any multibillionaire can, she proclaims we will move forward as a team and that she will be there for us. She has put herself down on our level and let us know that whatever fumbles we have, we’ll do them together.
Her speech is refreshing, and frankly, a little inspiring. For the first time since I accepted their offer, I actually think I could enjoy being on this team.
Apparently, the others think the same as she gets a thunderous roar of approval from the men.
She then hands the reins over to Callum, who follows her with a speech just as refreshing and classy. Also humble, also asking that we give him an honest shot to be a better general manager than he was before. I like that he admits his flaws. It makes me respect him more.
He, too, gets approval from the team, and I’m clapping hard when he finishes.
“One last housekeeping matter, then I’m going to give the floor to Coach Keller.” Callum pushes his hands into his pockets, giving a slow three-sixty to look at all the players. “As you know, the league has voted in a points freeze retroactively to the plane crash, and we have four days to get in some shape to step out on the ice and reenter competitive play. The league just announced that they’re giving an allowance to the Titans that any trades made going forward will not be penalized by making players sit out of the playoffs.”