“That’s it.”
“That’s all you’ve got, Mark? I have a newface—“
“Goodbye, Lucas.”
Mark moved on, hit Rafe for a thirty-second exchange about a rookie podcast, and then he was standing in front of me with his clipboard.
“Rook. How’s the morning?”
“Fine.”
“Good.” He scribbled something. “Quick thing, if you’ve got a second.”
“Shoot.”
“Got a guy fromThe Athleticangling for a sit-down. It’s a veteran piece. He wants to hear about the Markel system and the defense. He asked for you specifically. Said he wants to do it right and doesn’t want a canned forty-five minutes.”
“Hm.”
“He’s good. Long-form. You’ll like him.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Sure. No rush. He’s pitching it for late October. We’ve got some time.”
“Who is it?”
“Kovac,” Mark said. “Daniel Kovac.”
My gut tightened.
The unease didn’t show in my face, and I took ten seconds to compose my voice.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Sure. No rush.” Mark made a small mark on his clipboard. “I’ll let him know we’re considering.”
“Cool.”
“Thanks, Rook.”
He moved on.
Daniel Kovac.
I felt my hand want to do something, close or clench, but I didn’t let it happen because Varga was eight feet away. He was whistling something he had picked up off the radio, and there was no version of the next ten minutes in which I was going to let any part of my body tell my man that something was wrong before I had decided what to do about it.
Six years ago in March, we had a game in Toronto. Two hours later, I found myself alone, four blocks from the team hotel, in a place a guy I’d never met had recommended on Twitter.
I sat at the far end of the bar, and a man my age took the stool two over from mine. He said he was a writer and covered hockey. Somewhere between the second and third drinks, he asked mewhat it was like playing the way I played, and going home to nobody.
I said I’d spent fifteen years watching the other guys go home to somebody and told myself I’d get to it after I was done. He asked if there was anyone I had in mind for after. I saidnot yet.
He asked what she’d be like. I said he, and then I didn’t take it back. I knew I’d said it to a reporter, and I kept going anyway. It was the most I’d ever said to anyone.
He shook my hand at the door and said,take care of yourself, Mr. Rook.He walked in the other direction down Queen Street with his hands in his pockets. I went back to the hotel and lay awake until four a.m.
I never told another reporter.
