“That’s fine,” Ben said.“Sounds like you’re having a good time up there.”
“Yeah, it’s fun getting to explain the game to someone.”
Ben rolled his eyes.
“Sorry for the backseat coaching,” Phil felt compelled to add.“I’ll stop before the guys catch on.”
“Please don’t.”
Phil frowned, taken aback.“But—”
“We both know I’m no good at it.They respect you, they listen to you, and…” Ben looked around furtively.“I’ve got a few other things on my mind.”
Perhaps due to the new doubts that had risen in Phil when he realized whatever was going on with Ben involved the GM as well, his voice came out harsher than intended.“Man, you’ve got to at least pretend you give a shit about coaching.”
“Sorry,” Ben said, affronted.“What do you expect me to—”
“I expect you to treat me like a player.”Phil paused, searching for the right phrasing.“I was treading on your turf.I gave advice and suggested plays.That’s the coach’s job.You might not want to do it, but you can’t just let me take over with no comment, or everyone will notice.”
To his surprise, Ben smiled.“Coaches can’t take criticism, huh?”
“They all used to be players after all.”Then Phil thought again of Breezy and how easily he took corrections.“I think it’s an older generation thing, to be fair.It’s also a me thing.”
“You take criticism fine,” Ben said, scanning the locker room over Phil’s shoulder.Behind them, the guys had already started to suit up again, Dmitriyev eeling his way into his massive goalie pads while Tom buckled up his chest protector.
As nice as it was to hear, Phil hadn’t been fishing for compliments.“No.I mean, coaches hate whenIcriticize anything.”
“Huh?”
Phil raised his eyebrows.He didn’t like to spell the race thing out; he got enough flack for daring to hint at it in interviews every now and again.
“Oh.”Ben tightened up his tie with a grimace.“Then they’re idiots.You’re the only hockey player who hasn’t gotten massively on my nerves yet.”
Phil laughed.It was a weak compliment, but he’d take it.
Ben took a deep breath and turned toward the locker room.Phil maneuvered himself aside, ready to let him pass.
At the last moment, Ben turned to him.“Hey, Phil?I’m a terrible hockey coach, but I’m not a terrible person most of the time.If there’s anything I can do to make this place…I dunno, less shitty and racist while I’m here, let me know.”
Phil swallowed heavily.Over the years, he’d found strategies to deal with being the rare non-white hockey player in the NHL.A lot of them revolved around aggressively ignoring the issue.He’d talked to Tom about it some, whenever he made the mistake of reading the Instagram comments after his latest penalty.Hockey players took penalties; it was normal.But for some reason when he did it, everyone called him an overpaid goon, and when Vanderbilt did it, people complimented him for standing up for his teammates.Tom, by no means a demonstrative man, did his best to stick up for Phil with the media, but neither of them had ever considered talking to the coaches or management about the kinds of comments Phil got online and sometimes in person.
It had gotten better.Over the last decade alone, Phil had had more non-white teammates than in his entire pre-NHL playing career.But “better” than rock bottom meant little when, despite his best efforts, one step out of line could mean the next Black kid being drafted lower or passed over entirely.
“Thanks,” he said weakly.“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”
He thought about it all the way back to his box seat, which meant it took him totally by surprise when Charlie asked, “So are you and my uncle, like, a thing?”
Phil promptly choked on his drink—thankfully only mineral water—spitting it halfway down his shirt.He finally sputtered, “No!”
“Huh.”Charlie looked out onto the ice, where the first line pressed their advantage, heading for the goal line.“That’s a shame.”
“Uh-huh,” Phil said, leaning forward as Tom passed the puck to Jax.“Wait, no.I mean, it’s not a shame, it’s—”
Jax scored.The horn was less deafening up here, but the crowd going wild was worse.Phil pumped his fist in victory.
The team won easily after their slow start, and as the audience trickled out, Phil couldn’t resist swinging by the locker room again.He hoped for the jubilant, upbeat mood a win could bring to the room, but even from outside, he knew it hadn’t when no music sounded throughout the halls.He peered inside.
“Come on, let’s do it!”Breezy enthused.“Let’s go out!Whole team, everybody in!”
