Ryker (Cold Fury Hockey 4)

"If unification is so important," I hear another player say, "then why is Ryker sucker punching his teammate? Didn't he do that on another team? Seems to me he's the one that needs to practice what he preaches."

My shoulders sag a bit, because when you say it like that, it sounds like I'm the bad seed in this group.

"Ryker had cause to do it, and it wasn't a sucker punch," Alex says, and I startle over his defense of me. After the fight that night, he made all of us agree not to tell anyone so it wouldn't blow up. The mere fact he's delving into it has me astonished.

"What-the-fuck-ever," Sam spits out to defend his friend. "He came barreling at Claude and he didn't have a chance to defend himself."

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm faster than he is," I mutter.

Alex growls at me but then says to the team, "It is not okay to make demeaning statements about women. This organization has an image to uphold. We are role models to adults and kids. So pardon me for thinking this, but I think Claude deserved to have his ass kicked when he said Gray Brannon wouldn't be so high and mighty if he shoved his dick down her throat."

I notice several of the players wince, a few turn quickly to glare at Claude.

"Or that she just needed a hard fucking to put her in her place," Alex adds, so no one mistakes the nature of Claude's comments.

"Dude...not cool," I hear someone murmur.

"You're an asshole, Amedee," another says.

It seems we're back on track when Mikkel Erat speaks up. "Forget the fight and what Claude said, which admittedly was stupid. The fact of the matter is, we're being run by a general manager that not all of us trust."

"That's a fair statement," Garrett says as he stands and faces Mikkel. "But what is it exactly you don't trust in? Is it only because she's a woman? Or is it because you don't like her methodology? There's a big difference, in my opinion."

"Listen," I say, then take a deep breath. "We all know it was a major shakeup to this league and this team when Gray Brannon was hired as general manager. The media made a huge deal about her being a woman, but let me remind you. She has played hockey. She's a fucking two-time Olympic medalist, so do not discount her because of her gender. On top of that, she was one of the top scouts in the league and she's responsible for many of you being on this team. You clearly trusted her when she scouted you for the Cold Fury, so why not trust her now?"

I look around. Most people are looking directly at me, a few have their faces averted in what I think might be shame. So I continue.

"If you don't trust the way she makes her decisions, all I can tell you is I get it. It's new to all of us, and I don't know if it's going to work. But the one thing you should ask yourself is this: Is there anything she has done so far that has hurt this team? In fact, go one step further...don't we have a fucking amazing team that she's helped to put together? Are we not at the top of our division and the conference leader? I'm mean seriously, dudes...what more do you fucking want?"

Now several men are nodding with me in agreement. Claude still glares. I look directly at him as I talk. "We are missing unification, and we've let ourselves get sidetracked by something that we shouldn't be wasting our time on. Not one of us can change the management, so we need to roll with it. We need to put our heads together and we have got to get back our camaraderie. Our hearts are what make this team strong. If we don't, we are going to fall completely apart and you can kiss that Cup goodbye."

"That's the truth," Pavel calls out in his thick Russian accent.

Most of the guys are now nodding enthusiastically with renewed hope. I turn to Alex and mutter. "It's your show now."

"All right," Alex says. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to take Ryker here and walk across the street to Houlihan's and buy him a fucking beer because that makes a lot of sense to me. If any of you want to join us, come on over. I'll buy everyone a beer, and let's start getting back our mojo together...as a team."

"Fuck yeah," Zack says, and starts for the door. Most everyone stands from their chairs and starts heading out. Of course, I have no clue if they'll come to Houlihan's, but it will be interesting to see what they do.

Some teammates walk by me as I stand at the front of the room with Alex and Garrett. Several guys fist bump me, punch me on the shoulder, or give me a supportive nod. Max Fournier comes up to me and we clasp hands, pull each other in for a chest bump, and clap each other on the back. "Dude...you know that fucker doesn't speak my sentiments about the goalie slot, right?"

"Yeah, I got that. I want what's best for this team, that's all."

"As do I, brother," he says with a grin. "Meet you over there for that beer, and are we doing yoga on Wednesday?"

Garrett coughs and Alex snorts. "Yoga?"

"Yeah," Max says with a nod of his head. "Ryker got me into it. He's been taking a class from Gray and it's really great for our flexibility."

"Oh, really," Garrett asks with a sly laugh. "Yoga, huh? That's, um...very manly."

"Fuck off," I growl at him. "I'd like to see you try a class. You'll be crying like a baby when you're done."

"Oh, it's fucking on," Garrett says as he puffs his chest out. The proverbial gloves just got thrown down.

"Wednesday at ten o'clock, bitch," Max says with a playful punch to Garrett's shoulder, and we all laugh.

When we get to Houlihan's, it's packed. I look around and as best I can tell, every single member of the team is there.

Every single member except Claude and Sam.

I'm pleased to see Mikkel seems to have come to his senses, and he raises his beer up to me when we make eye contact. A silent apology, which I accept.

Not bad when it comes to unification. It's actually better than I expected. It's my hope, at least for now, that this team will quit focusing on things they can't control and put their efforts into that which they can.

If we can do that, we've got this fucking Cup in hand.

Chapter 20

Gray

This is it.

Right here.

The epitome of what it means to be a general manager of a professional sporting team. It's also going to be the first major decision I'll help put into effect when it's all said and done.

It's February fourteenth, and while most are thinking of Valentine's Day, I'm thinking about the trade deadline that is approaching in less than three weeks. My scouts have been busy checking out the minors, Frank's been talking to other team managers, and I've been analyzing the players' stats. We have until March fifth to make our trades, or otherwise anyone we pick up after that will be ineligible to play in the playoffs. Usually there's a mad scramble at the deadline to do some final wheeling and dealing, but I want to get this out of the way. I want to get our last trades done so they can gel with the team. I think that's crucial so we are solidified going into the playoffs.

The executive conference room is huge and can hold twenty people easily around the oblong table. Right now, there's just four of us. Me at the head of the table and my father to my left. He took that seat on purpose, putting me in the kingpin's chair so it was clear who was running this meeting. Frank is to my right, and on the other side of him sits Coach Pretore. The rest of the seats are empty because I just sent the scouts out of here after they delivered their reports to us.

There's one more person we need to talk to and he should be here soon, but before I invite the team captain in, I want to talk about options.

"As of now, I think we've identified three players that we may want to either release or trade," I say as I look down at my notes. These players were chosen after much talk and debate. I relied on my statistical model. Coach Pretore relied on his observation skills. Frank went old school and relied on his hunch, and my father had no opinion. Well, I know he has an opinion, because he always does, but he's withholding. He's making it clear that in his role

as the CEO, he's not getting involved in decisions at this level. He's trusting his management team to do so.

"Are you sure Halik is done?" Frank asks Pretore. "Maybe another round of therapy?"

Jani Halik is a promising center we picked up two years ago, one of my finds actually, but he has not been able to bounce completely back from a groin pull from more than a year ago. He gets healthy, then he gets hurt again. Healthy, hurt, healthy, hurt. He's become unreliable, but this was one that Pretore voiced concern about.

"I don't think it will make a difference," Pretore says. "He's only good enough for the third line if he's healthy, and we don't know when that could be."

"We won't get much in trade for him," Frank says.

"We can release him," I suggest.

"Or tack him onto another deal," Frank counters. I nod because that's a good option for sure.

"So we also have Atkinson and Amedee," I continue, hoping my voice stays neutral. I really had hoped I wouldn't have to be doing this. I wanted Claude to prove me wrong and not let his bitterness and dislike of me affect his game, but his numbers have plummeted the past three months. I've also heard through the grapevine he's stirring up a lot of shit. Luckily, Coach Pretore also had some misgivings about keeping him around, so at least Frank won't think I'm targeting him because of Amedee's attitude toward me.

"Before we make our final decision," Coach Pretore says, "let's get Alex Crossman in here and see what he has to say."

I use the moment to stand up from the table and stretch. I don't think it really matters what Alex says unless he has some information we don't know yet, but I'm hoping he'll at least confirm our choices. Once that's done, we can start looking at the scouting reports and figure out who we want to try to cut a deal with.

Once Alex is seated and small talk is exchanged, I ask him, "You know we're getting close to the trade deadline and we are looking at what we can do to make this team stronger. We've focused in on three players we are looking to cut, and we want your opinion. Of course this remains confidential."

Alex nods. "Of course."

Coach Pretore doesn't waste any more time and just lays out their names. "Atkinson, Amedee, and Halik."