Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
There’s a lot of shuffling and murmuring at this announcement. On its face, it appears to be a generous allowance the league is making, but it has repercussions.
It means that just as soon as we arrived here, we could easily be traded, because we won’t be penalized in the playoffs. I could find myself back down in the minors before I even have a chance to make my bed in my cheap little apartment.
Callum holds up his hands, asking for silence. “I know this might cause some distress, as many of you just got your call-up from the minors and you don’t want anything interfering with your shot to make it in this league. While the chances are slim, it’s possible someone could offer for one of you and then release you back to the minors. Brienne Norcross has made a commitment not to release any of you from your contracts this year. She wants your shot to be a good one, and you can’t do that with fear of that shot ending hanging over you. It doesn’t matter if a great opportunity comes our way. We are not going to sacrifice a single player in this room.”
Jesus.
Brienne Norcross is making a major concession to give all the players new to the team security for the rest of the season—a decision that could cost her money, especially if we suck. She’s promising that no matter what, the men in this room are safe for the remainder of the hockey season.
This is well received by the players, and there’s another round of clapping and cheering. I’m wondering why Brienne didn’t tell us this news herself, since it’s obviously her decision and she should take credit.
That probably speaks to the fact that she’s a true team player, earning her even more of my respect.
The knots in my stomach at the beginning of this meeting have loosened, and I look forward to what Coach Keller has to say as he takes center stage.
Matt Keller is, by all accounts, a great coach on paper. He’s fresh off a D1 national championship, and while a move to the pros is a bit of a big step, I’m assuming there weren’t a lot of qualified candidates. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, because I’ve already bought into Brienne’s and Callum’s values—but he starts off poorly.
We’re first treated to a long-winded biography of his accomplishments, and it’s clear he’s trying to make sure he’s qualified in our eyes. It’s overkill as he won’t shut up about how much of a genius he was to win a national championship. He spouts ideals of fraternity and loyalty, which sound good on the surface, but those are things that have to be proven.
So when he says, “You show your loyalty to me, and you’ll have mine in return,” it doesn’t sit well with me.
Looking around at the hardened expressions on some of the other players’ faces, I can tell it doesn’t sit well at all with the whole.
“Now,” he says, seemingly ready to wind down his speech, “we are going to be family to each other. But we’re all relative strangers as of this day. I want to change that. So we’re going to go around the room, and I want each player to stand up and tell us a little about yourself. Maybe share a bit about your background and what led you here today. I’ve had the fortune of studying your bios, and I feel like I know each of you pretty well. But we need to share that with the others, so how about you there in the front row… Andrei Komokov.”
A young blond man warily stands, looking around before introducing himself in a thick Russian accent. His English is quite good, but his words are short, speaking more to his discomfort with being put on the spot like this.
Keller doesn’t seem to understand that was painful as he calls another player to stand, and then another. Most of these guys are truly making a step upward, but they’re nervous, and they realize they’re here only because of a horrible tragedy. None of them want to express elation over this opportunity, and yet Keller seems to want to hear that gratitude.
“Stone Dumelin,” Keller calls as his eyes search the room.
I mutter a curse as I rise from my chair, and the movement catches Keller’s eye. He smiles as if we’re old friends. “Tell everyone about yourself, Stone.”
“Stone Dumelin, left-winger. Played for the Eagles out of college, had some shoulder issues and bounced back and forth between them and the minors. Been with the Cleveland Badgers for the last year.”
I start to lower into my seat, but Matt stops me cold. “And what do you think your driving force is to be here?”
Rage slices through me, and it takes all my effort not to leap rows to get down to his level where I’d like to plant my fist in his smug fucking face.