"Or I'll be biased in the other direction. Write puff pieces that ignore legitimate issues." I can not believe I’ve put myself in this position, where I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
"So don't do that. Write the truth. All of it. The good and the bad."
She makes it sound simple. It's not. But maybe she's right. Maybe seeing Carter as a full person, complicated, flawed, trying, will make my reporting better, not worse.
My phone buzzes. Speak of the devil.
Carter:Practice observation today, 2pm. Bring warm clothes. We're doing outdoor drills.
Me:Outdoor drills in March?
Carter:Character building. See you at 2.
I show Isla the text. She laughs.
"He's still being difficult."
"See? Adversarial."
"Or playful. There's a difference." Looks like Isla is all team Carter now, so I don't have a response to that.
***
At 2 PM, I arrive at the outdoor rink behind the athletic center.
It's cold. Really cold. The kind of cold that makes your face hurt and your fingers numb within minutes.
The team is already on the ice, running drills that look brutal. Suicide sprints, one-on-ones, full-contact scrimmages.
Carter spots me and skates over to the boards.
"Hayes. Glad you could make it."
"You made it mandatory. Where else would I be?" I can think of a lot of places I could be, but I’m not saying them out loud.
"I don't know. Somewhere warm?" He's smirking. "But I appreciate your dedication to journalism."
"I appreciate your dedication to making this as uncomfortable as possible." I smirk at him, and he laughs.
"Just showing you what hockey really is. Cold, hard, demanding." He skates backward, still facing me. "If you can't handle watching it, you shouldn't write about it."
"I can handle anything you throw at me, Lynch."
"We'll see."
He rejoins the team, and I settle into the bleachers with my notebook, trying to ignore the cold seeping through my jeans.
Practice is intense. Carter pushes everyone hard, but it's different from what I expected. He's not cruel or demeaning. He corrects technique, encourages effort, pulls aside players who are struggling to give them individual attention.
It's leadership. Real leadership.
I'm taking notes when someone sits down next to me.
Tyler Morrison. Carter's right wing. The one who's been the most hostile since my article was published.
"Hey, journalist."
"Hey, hockey player."
