“Crap,” Kyla mutters. “I thought someone would have told you by now.”
“Told me what?”
“The team put you on IR,” Dad tells me, walking over to my side of the bed.
“Fuck.” I close my eyes, thinking of the implications of this.
I hear the door click shut and peek one eye open. It’s just me and my dad in here now. I hate that I’m in the hospital. For the second time in three years, my playing time has been cut short.
Am I jinxed? Am I not meant to play? Why the hell does this keep happening to me?”
“Look at me, Noah.” Dad’s voice is hard, telling me I better listen. Even though I’m over thirty, if I don’t listen, I still feel like I could get grounded.
Is that a feeling that ever goes away?
“It’s not the end of the world. I promise you that.”
“Why does it feel like it is?” My voice shakes.
“It happened to me. Trust me, it wasn’t.”
“But this is the second time this has happened to me. What if?—”
“Hey.” Dad clasps my forearm that’s resting on the bed. “You can’t play the what-if game. It’s not going to get you anywhere.”
I want to bang my head against the pillows, but I can’t. It seems like I can’t do much of anything these days except lie in a hospital bed.
And I fucking hate it.
“What good am I to the team if I’m on IR? My knee injury and now this? It fucking sucks, Dad. All I want to do is play and I can’t do that. So sorry if I can’t see the bright side right now.”
Dad smirks. “It’s a good thing your mom isn’t here to hear you say that.”
“Well, it does.”
“Injured reserved means the team doesn’t want to risk you hurting yourself any more. They care about your future with the team and want to make sure you come back better than ever next year.”
“Really?” I scoff. “And what if I can’t come back next year? What if this is the injury that finally takes me out?”
The lights are starting to become too bright. This is what sucks. I’ll be feeling okay for a little while, but then the headache will come back and knock me on my ass. The doctor said this could happen for at least a few weeks.
Then why am I surprised I’m on IR?
I only hope these mood swings won’t last forever. I’m tired of feeling like this.
Dad nods. “I know it might not be the easiest thing to hear, but you need to take this time to heal. To get your head and your body in the right space to be able to rehab and come back next year.”
“I want to tell you you’re right.” I sigh.
“It can be hard to admit. When all we want to do is play the game we love, it can suck to be sidelined.”
Some of my earliest memories are of going to the games to watch my dad play. I wasn’t around for when he was injured, but after the Mountain Lions Super Bowl when my sister was born, he retired. Said it was time. He wanted to put family first. It was around the time that I took to hockey, and he became my biggest fan. Just like I was for him out on the field. My dad could do no wrong in my eyes. Having that support system made it easy to adapt to the NHL.
But for how much longer?
“You know,” Dad starts, “IR was the best thing that ever could have happened to me.”
“You don’t need to try and make me feel better about it.”
