I didn’t know if we had a future here. I hoped most of us got signed again.
“Well, we definitely need to get together. If not, maybe we can go visit you, get out of the city a bit,” Riggs said, clapping my shoulder.
“Yeah, that would be great,” I said. “Well, you guys played awesome and I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Webber,” they said as I walked away to go look for Coach who wanted to see me before I left today.
It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I didn’t have a choice. The hallway to Coach’s office was full of people, making me more nervous the closer I got to it. I knocked on his door and saw the defensive coach and a trainer in there with him.
“Hey, Coach,” I said.
“Hey, Webber, how’s it going?” he asked, motioning me to sit down.
“It’s going ok, bummed I wasn’t out there.” I sat down feeling nervous.
“I heard you have an appointment with the surgeon next week,” he said, glancing at the trainer.
“Yeah, my PT said I need an MRI,” I said, glancing at the trainer too. “I just got that done yesterday.”
“How’s PT going?” The trainer asked.
My stomach dropped. I knew where this was going and I thought I had time before this got back to my coach along with everyone else.
“Ok, I still don’t have good mobility,” I said.
My mobility was shit. I was nowhere near where I needed to be. I had been saying that for weeks, but everyone said all I needed was PT and I would be good. No one listened to me, I didn’t push, wanting to believe what they said and here I was, needing to see the surgeon again because something was wrong.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Webber,” the trainer said. “Your MRI doesn’t look good. I was hoping for better progress, and this was not it.”
“I know. I was hoping for better too,” I said. “I had concerns the second week and everyone dismissed me, saying I needed to let PT do the work, but something never felt right.”
“Things don’t look good, son,” Coach said.
“I am prepared to do whatever I need to do,” I said, ready to beg if I had to.
“Well, we will need to let the higher ups know once we talk to the doctor,” Coach said. “As you know, trades and re-signs will be coming in?—”
The next ten minutes were a bit of a blur as they explained some things and I just nodded. My chances of getting re-signed were slowly slipping away. By the time I was walking out the hallway to leave, I felt worn out and in a bit of a daze, until I almost ran into our social media manager, Valencia.
“Hey,” she said, giving me a hug that I desperately needed. “How are things going?”
“Ok,” I said, hugging her tightly.
“That doesn’t sound ok,” she said, pulling away to see me better.
I hated that I was getting emotional, but it felt like I was holding too many things on my shoulders.
“Healing is not going well and I miss… I just miss hockey,” I said, letting it all out, but kept seeing the doctor to myself. “I’m moving back home to rest and see a good physical therapist in the area.”
“If you need anything, let us know, maybe we can visit,” she said, giving me a look of pity. “Doesn’t Jude live there too? I think it?—”
“He and I aren’t speaking right now,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling me in for another hug that I leaned into, desperately needing.
“It’s fine, I’m hoping being home makes us work our shit out.” I shrugged, trying not to lose my cool. “But I’d still like for you guys to visit.”
“Of course.” She pulled away with a smile.
