It’s staggering, to be wanted by so many organizations for a job for which I have zero experience. But as I scan the email and see teams that are down in the states, or over on the East Coast, basically as far from Dogwood Cove as possible, nothing excites me.
Someone calls my name and I turn to see Trevor striding down the hall. “There you are. Come on up to the management suite for a while, let’s talk shop.”
I push off from the wall and try to keep up with his quick pace, but the damn dress shoes I’m wearing are making my knee ache. Thank fuck the elevator isn’t too far, and I can hopefully hide my discomfort by sitting down when we get to wherever he’s leading me.
I spend the next hour making small talk with some of the team’s upper management. Guys who I didn’t pay much attention to when I was a player, but who now hold my potential future in their hands — if coaching in the NHL is what I want.
At some point, I drift away from the conversations and find myself staring out over the arena that’s quickly filling with fans.
“Still gives me chills looking out at it all,” Trevor says, coming to stand beside me and handing me a glass tumbler. “Whiskey?”
I accept it with a nod, lifting the glass and taking a sip.
“So, Jude. I can tell your mind is not fully invested in the idea of coaching for the Blaze.”
I freeze for a split second. But where I expected to feel fear or panic that I’ve killed the opportunity before I even had a chance at it, I only feel a soul deep acknowledgment that he’s right.
“That would be correct, sir. It’s not that I don’t feel honoured by the offer, and it really is tempting, but I was starting to appreciate the idea of working a little closer to home, closer to my family.”
Trevor makes a hum of understanding as he takes a drink. “I’m guessing the opportunity to work with Louka and whoever else LaRoy pulls together doesn’t hurt. He’s dead set on having a dream team, and the fucker just might do it. Especially if he lands you.”
I turn to face him fully. “With all due respect, why do you say that? I’ve got no coaching experience, I’m just a player.”
“All great coaches were once great players,” he replies matter-of-factly. “You know the game inside and out, you know what it takes to win, and you’re a strong leader. To be blunt, Jude, I suspect out of everyone in the professional hockey world, the only person who’s surprised you’re being sought after by multiple organizations is you.”
I let that statement sink in. Trevor has never been the type to blow smoke up your ass, so if he’s telling me I have value as a coach, I better believe it.
“Every time a player signs with us, or renews their contract, I ask them one question. Do you remember what that is?”
I think back to every meeting with Trevor over the years. “Something about picturing where we wanted to be in two years?”
“Right. Depending on the player, I’d say one year, two years, or even five. But the point is, I wanted to make damn sure I was taking on players that wanted to be with the Blaze long-term. We take the idea of our team being a family very seriously, you know that. Getting my guys to clarify their priorities and goals is crucial to creating that family.” Trevor takes a sip of his drink, his penetrating stare still seeing right down to my soul. “Speaking frankly again because, well, you’ve earned that, Jude. Retirement was coming for you. Whether it happened when it did because of your knee or a few years down the road when something else gave out. You had a longer career than most, and I hope you know how much the team appreciated you each and every year of that career. But now that it’s over, there’s one question you have to ask yourself. What’s important to younow?”
After the Blaze decimate their opponents in a 3-1 win, Kasey finds me. “Come and grab a drink with us for old times’ sake.” He drapes his arm over my shoulders and guides me to the player’s exit, where black SUVs are waiting. We’re taken to a bar that has a private room already full of half the team and a bunch of women.
Kasey bypasses all of them and we find a small table to sit at. After ordering a drink, he steeples his fingers in front of his face and stares me directly in the eye.
“You don’t want to coach the Blaze.” He makes it sound like a done deal. Which, I guess, it is. I plan on meeting with Trevor tomorrow and respectfully declining the offer and handing in my contract buyout paperwork at the same time.
But curiosity makes me ask, “Why do you think that?”
“I’ve known you a long time. You’re a hell of a player and you’ll make a hell of a coach, but not for this team. It would feel like a step backward for you, even though it isn’t. You always used to say if you were ever traded, you’d never come back to the Blaze. Once you’re done with something, you’re done with it. And somehow, over the last couple of months, you made peace with being done with the Blaze.”
“Yeah, I have,” I say, the finality of that statement feeling right.
“If I were a betting man, which I’m not,” Kasey starts conversationally, but there’s a devious glint in his eyes. “I’d wager there’s also a woman involved.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “What makes you say that?”
“The fact that you’ve checked your phone three times since we left the arena, and every time you do, you frown. You’re waitin’ on a girl and she’s not answering you.”
I let out a rueful chuckle. “It’s insane how well you can read me, man.”
Kasey just shrugs. “Yeah, well, how many years have we played together? How many road trips? I know you. So, is she worth giving up the NHL?”
It’s a rhetorical question in a lot of ways because she’s not theonlyreason I’m declining the job offer from the Blaze. But she is a big part of why I’m not even entertaining any of the others.
“Yeah. She’s worth it.”
