Adan hesitated only for a moment. “Yeah, I was. Anyone would’ve been, I think. But I can see why I wasn’t drafted. I wasn’t ready yet.”
“Are you ready now?”
This time, Adan paused longer, but when he spoke, his voice was strong and steady. “No, sir, but by the end of this season, I will be.”
Damn, what an answer. I was in awe of his confidence, which somehow came across as so honest, as more of a promise than anything else.
McLaughlin smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“What would you like to see from him going forward?” I asked. “What areas should we prioritize in his continued development?”
McLaughlin considered this. “The foundation is excellent. I’d like to see continued improvement in face-off percentage. You’re at about sixty percent now, which is solid, but elite centers need to be in the seventy-plus range. Penalty kill awareness could use work. And consistency. I want to see this level of performance game after game, not just flashes of it.”
“Those are all areas we can target,” I said, already mentally planning training modifications.
“Good. Adan, you should know that you’re on our radar now. We’ll be watching your progress closely, and I’ll be back to see more games this season.”
“Thank you,” Adan managed, his voice slightly rough with emotion. “I won’t let you down.”
“I don’t think you will. Keep working with Coach Anders here. Whatever you two are doing, it’s working.” McLaughlin shook both our hands again. “I’ll be in touch. Oh, and Adan?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to get an agent.”
An agent. Holy shit.“Yes, sir.”
After he left, Adan and I stood in the tunnel for a moment, both processing what had happened. The noise from the locker-room celebration felt distant, less important than the conversation we’d finished.
“A scout,” Adan said quietly. “Detroit fucking Red Wings.”
“I know.”
“Did that really happen? Did he really say I’m on their radar?”
“He did. And he meant it. Scouts don’t waste time on courtesy visits.”
Adan leaned back against the wall, running his hands through his sweat-damp hair. “My parents are going to lose their minds. All those years of extra shifts and sacrificed vacations and hoping I’d get a shot…”
“You’ve earned this, Adan. Every bit of it.”
“We’veearned it. You heard what he said… The improvement he’s noticed is because of your coaching.”
“Your improvement is because of your work ethic and talent. I merely helped guide the process.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t minimize what you’ve done for me.” He turned to face me directly. “Six months ago, I was just another college scorer whose future in hockey was debatable. Now I’m being scouted by an NHL team. That’s because of you.”
The emotion in his voice was overwhelming—gratitude and hope and something that looked like the beginning of tears.
“And I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to help you make it to the NHL. Whatever training you need, whatever development McLaughlin wants to see, whatever it takes to get you signed—we’ll make it happen. And we’ll help you find an agent who will negotiate the best deal for you.”
“You mean that?”
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”
The intensity of my own commitment surprised me. Somewhere along the way, Adan’s success had become more important to me than my own comfort, my own safety, my own carefully maintained boundaries. His dream of playing professional hockey had become my mission.
“Thank you,” he said, and before I could react, he stepped forward and kissed me.
