I know why he reacted the way he did. And even if it hurt, I meant what I said: he is forgiven.
“Thanks for coming in today, Dr. Lowell,” I say as he sits at the conference table. He and his team ran Beckett through a varietyof scans and tests this morning. Rob, White, and I have been waiting for the doctor to arrive with his final recommendations.
I saw the fear in Beckett’s eyes when he told me his truth this morning, and I know that waiting for these results is killing him. Hell, it’s been painful for me, too.
Unfortunately, I don’t think the results will be what any of us want. I stopped by earlier when they were running some of the tests. Lowell asked Beckett to take three steps after sprinting on the ice, and he did it, but the hitch was there. More aggressive than I’ve seen from him.
“Of course. I know how anxious everyone is to get these results back,” Lowell says in the understatement of the year. My stomach has been in knots all day. Even Larsen knew not to push me during practice. “Which is why I went with a clinical exam, functional testing with the trainers, and then an ultrasound.”
“What’s the verdict?” White asks as Lowell navigates his tablet, sending an image to the large screen in the conference room.
“It’s not great.”
My stomach drops.
He points to the screen. “This is a screen capture from the ultrasound on Kane’s right iliopsoas,” he explains, zooming in. “See this here? That’s edema and fiber disruption at the hip flexor. In other words, inflammation consistent with a strain. Given his exam and the functional testing, I feel the ultrasound gives us what we need right now, but if he doesn’t improve on schedule, or if the pain increases, we’ll get an MRI to rule out anything deeper.
“How bad is it?” Rob asks.
Lowell tips his head from side to side. “It’s not a full tear, which is good news. The bad news is that if he keeps skating on it at game intensity, he’ll likely turn a short-term straininto something that lingers, or he’ll compensate and blow up something else.”
“So he could keep playing?” I ask, knowing that strains and sprains are a gray area in professional sports. Sometimes, they can play through them without too much risk. Sometimes they’re out for months. I would never want to put someone on the ice who needs to rest, but I’d also never want to rest someone if they would be fine pushing through it. It’s a hard balance, especially when there isn’t always a right answer. Just the best answer at a time. Which is why I’m glad the decision isn’t up to me.
“It’s not my recommendation,” Lowell says.
“So, what is your final determination?” White asks.
“IR. Three weeks.” Once medical staff calls IR, that’s it. None of us gets to argue. It’s league policy.
I bite the inside of my cheek, making sure to keep my face impassive. I can’t let them know that my heart is breaking for Beckett. I know it’s just a strain, but Beckett isn’t going to see it that way. An IR determination is a bad omen for a player his age. And after everything he told me, I know he’s going to see it as a huge setback, if not the end.
At that moment, Paige knocks on the door. “Beckett Kane is here to meet with you all. Are you ready for him?”
White looks at Dr. Lowell. “Are you sure? Three weeks?”
“I’m sure,” the doctor replies.
White nods at Paige. “Send him in.”
Beckett walks in, his gaze darting to mine before taking in the rest of the room. I’m not sure what he sees behind the icy exterior I know I have up, but apparently, it is enough to kill whatever strands of hope he was holding on to.
He sits at the empty seat next to me, his face set in grim resignation. It takes all my self-control not to offer him somesort of comfort. I want to hug him. To take his hand. But I fight that urge.
“Kane, thanks for joining us,” White says, taking charge of the meeting. The doctor makes the determination, but the GM is the one who puts it into action. I, as head coach, actually have very little to do with a player’s trajectory once they’re injured. It used to drive me crazy to have my roster controlled by others, but now? Now I see the very real benefit of not having to make the call.
“Dr. Lowell, want to kick us off?” White asks.
The doctor nods. “Kane, I don’t think this will come as a surprise to you after the tests we ran today, but you’ve got a strain in your right hip flexor. My determination is that you go onto IR for three weeks. I want to be clear, I know you’ve been playing through this for a while, and playing well, but it’s getting worse, and you’re compensating, and that’s how short injuries become long ones.”
Beckett swallows hard, his gaze dropping as he asks, “That’s the official decision?”
“Yes,” White confirms. “I’ll submit the paperwork directly after this meeting.”
The corners of Beckett’s lips twitch, like he might argue, but then he doesn’t, letting out a slow breath instead.
“I’ll leave directions with the medical staff,” Dr. Lowell says, “but in general, no games. Modified training. Rehab starts today, re-eval at the end of week two. Just so you know what you’re working toward, you don’t return until you can sprint and cut without that hitch. That’s the goal if we want this to actually heal.”
The silence that follows is heavy. The decision has already been made, and even though none of us like it, it’s what we’re going to do.
