Nine
ADAK
Winning in overtime against Edmonton yesterday put the team in a much better mood. It’s not an ice day today but legs day. When I come into the arena, that’s where the team is, in the weight room. Most of them are quiet, but there’s still some chatter as they go through their reps.
When I step into the gym, I receive a chorus of, “Hi, Coach.” I return their greeting and check in with them, making sure they’re all feeling good.
I take great pride in my team. My players are individuals and I like to make sure they feel important.
They’re not just there to win games for me, their efforts and lives outside of hockey matter too.
When I’m done with them, I head to Brandon’s office where I find Colby, as expected. Unlike last week when I checked on him, he’s not smiling today. In fact, he looks very unhappy.
“What’s wrong, Min?” I ask.
He looks at me, and I can already see it in his eyes. The frustration. The anger. His need to lash out. “I’m out for the rest of the season,” he grits out.
I’d already kind of been moving in that direction. “Yeah?” I look at Brandon.
Brandon tries to contain a smile of amusement. “He pulled it further in his sleep.”
“How can I get injured in my sleep?!” Colby complains.
“Welcome to old age, man,” I say.
He scowls at me, rolling his eyes while I try hard not to laugh. As Brandon continues to do whatever a physical therapist does, I pull up a seat across from Colby. All those feelings of irritation fall away and he just looks helpless. “I’m sorry, Coach. I swear, I was doing everything right.”
I grip his knee. “Injuries happen. Even when we try our best to heal, sometimes there are complications.”
“But I… the team.”
Sighing, I nod. “It’s been a rough season,” I say, agreeing. “I can see how guilty you feel, but I promise, there’s not a single part of this that’s your fault. Sometimes we just have a streak of bad luck.”
“It’s been so bad,” he says quietly, turning his attention toward the door. “Two years ago, we were fucking up there. Now we’re basically at the bottom. What happened?”
Good question. One I’ve been asking myself. “Thinking like that is only going to keep us going in a downward trajectory. Hockey, like so many other sports, is partly a mental game. Once you’ve already given up, you’re going to lose.”
“We’ve given up, haven’t we?”
“I’ll have you know, we won last night,” I say.
He grins. “That was a great shot from Ax.”
“Make sure you tell him that. He’s struggling with the Emmons thing.”
Colby winces. “That sucks, Coach. I sent him some chocolates through LOB.” He gives me an amused smile. “One of them was in the shape of a dick.”
I chuckle, rolling my eyes.
But then Colby gets serious. “As awful as this is going to sound, when he was taken off the ice in a stretcher, the only thing I could think was ‘thank fuck I didn’t break something.’ Then he turns around and reports two broken bones! Man, did I feel like shit.”
“Humans are programmed to look at others’ misfortune and find the blessings in their situation,” I agree. He flinches. “It’s the compassion you also feel that makes you a good man, Min.”
Colby nods.
“Make sure you check in with the team. Seeing that you’re in one piece I think will help them a lot.”
“I will.”
I grip his shoulder before I leave, thanking Brandon for taking care of my boys. Brandon, as usual, just rolls his eyes. More than once, he’s told me it’s his job to take care of them. Now he just rolls his eyes at me, and I can hear his words without him speaking.
While I intend to go back to my office, I end up heading down to administration where I know management is meeting. Drafts are coming up and I’m hoping we have some good spots in the lineup.
Also, I need a fucking plan. Our guys are dropping like flies.
They’re in the meeting, but the conference room is basically a fish bowl.
They see me as I’m walking down the hall and wave me in as I get close.
There’s something weighing on my mind that I’m not ready to share with the world but…
I got a feeler email this morning. A buddy in PR with the Carolina Blue Hawks subtly noted that my talents might be better suited with a team not so down on their luck.
I didn’t answer. Mostly because I was headed to the arena, but the thought isn’t far from my mind now. To be clear, I don’t want to give up on my team. At all. These boys, these players, they’re amazing men. Fantastic players. We’ve just had the odds stacked against us lately.
Stepping into the meeting, I offer them a smile and take a seat next to Crowley, head of PR.
“How’s the team?” Radcliff, the contract manager for the team, asks.
“As you can imagine, Min’s injury really felt like a nail in the coffin for them. Then Emmons’ injury kind of set them over the edge, even though he’s not our player. They’re still giving it their all, as last night’s game shows, but I think they need a mental break,” I say.
“I hear that your practice the other day had them laughing like grade school kids,” Demitri says. The man has never liked me. He’s always looking at me in a way that makes me think he’d like me to drop dead. His expression is all disapproval right now.
“Yep,” I say, unapologetically. “If you don’t want them to mentally check out, then you need to give a little. Shoving their losses in their face and yelling at them to do better isn’t going to change their game.”
“Playing tag will,” he says, barely not sneering.
“Demitri,” Bozendorf warns. I’ve always liked him. He’s a great general manager.
“No, it’s fine,” I promise, raising my hands. “Clearly he can do better, so I’d welcome him to try.”
Demitri doesn’t respond. Just glares.
Turning my attention back to Bozendorf, I say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruffle feathers by joining your meeting. I apologize for the counterproductive outburst.”
And now Demitri is openly glaring at me. He hates when I beat him to being the bigger person. Which is all the time. The man refuses to admit when he’s wrong and never apologizes, even when it’s blatantly obvious he’s the issue.
Beside me, Crowley covers his face with his hand, delivering a bad excuse for a cough. Somehow, I keep a straight face as I continue to look at Bozendorf.
“I didn’t come here to defend my position or the team.
We have a whole slew of new players with an obvious equal number of injuries.
It would be a hurdle even in a good season.
In my entire career, I’ve never faced this kind of challenge.
I’ve been trying new tactics, both on the ice and in practice.
Believe it or not”—I look at Demitri pointedly—“their morale is directly tied in with their performance. So yes, I took a practice session and let them have fun. I let them play games. And you know what I saw?” I wasn’t really expecting an answer, so I’m not surprised when I don’t get one.
“I saw teamwork. I saw players helping other players when they saw something that could be improved upon. I saw comradery. The very next day, we kept the puck from the goal until the very last minute of the game. And my team is very irritated that a penalty wasn’t called for what was obviously roughing. ”
Around the table, there were several grunts of agreement.
“The following game against Vegas, we held strong into overtime and yesterday we won in a shootout. So, yes. Our team isn’t out yet. We’re not going to make the playoffs, but we’re also no longer as close to the bottom as we’d been. But you know what would really help them?”
Again, I receive no answer from Demitri.
“What would encourage our boys exponentially was if we didn’t have sour grapes from management glaring at them.
I’m sure any one of them would offer up their pads if you think you could do better, Demitri.
Your negativity and outright hostility toward me and the team says one thing very clearly—you’re not a Bobcats fan unless we’re winning. ”
He does not appreciate how everyone at the table turns to look at him. Before he can break down into mumbling defense, I turn the conversation to where I wanted it to go.
“Anyway, again, I apologize for the derailment. I’m not sure where you were in your meeting before I interrupted, but I wanted to talk about the draft and who you’re looking at for potentials.
I know we have some hopefuls on our list and while they’re not a guarantee, I’d really like to have as much time to consider the best ways to weave them into the team as I can. ”
“So you plan to stay for next season, then?” Radcliff asks.
There’s confusion at the table as half of the men and women look at him and the others at me. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?
“That’s an… unexpected question,” I say. “Are you planning to let me go?”
His eyes go wide, and he laughs. “As far as I know, no.” He looks at Bozendorf for confirmation, which he receives with a very definitive shake of his head.
“However, I know that you’re highly sought after, Adak.
I’m not so widely recognized that everyone immediately keeps their murmurings quiet when they see me. There’s been talk.”
“Of what?” Crowley asks, frowning.
“Of people wanting to see Adak on a team that wins. Somewhere they think his talents as a coach can shine through and Anaheim is no longer seen as that place.” He gives us all an apologetic smile.
Maybe the email this morning wasn’t as out of the blue as I thought.
“I have no plans as of right now to leave this team. I love the Bobcats. For the most part, I love management.” I don’t bother looking at Demitri.
I think it’s very obvious he’s the exception.
“No one has made an offer either, so I think maybe it’s just…
observational chatter?” I suggest carefully. Nothing I said is untrue.
“We don’t want you to give up on the team,” Bozendorf says.
I shake my head. “Me joining you today is exactly that. I’m not giving up.
We still have the rest of the month to push forward a little more and I have confidence in the boys that they can pull through, so we are securely sixth in the division.
However, I plan to take this summer and really strategize how to pull us out of this funk.
There are obvious things out of my control—injuries and the constant shuffling of the team to accommodate.
It’s not talent we lack. You all know hockey players as well as I do.
They don’t do well when their routine is disrupted.
We’ve been disrupted four times, losing very skilled, starting players.
Every time they get back on their feet, we lose someone else, and they start all over trying to gel again.
It’s tough on them, which might not be something some people see when all they’re looking at is our score and rank. These are men, people. Not numbers.”
“Well said,” Crowley says, giving me a nod of approval.
It’s quite clear that not many on the management team like Demitri at that moment. There are sideways glances in his direction, recognizing how I called him out and agreeing with my statement. Is this a today episode or is this normal? I’d never paid enough attention to care.
“We’re looking at three,” Bozendorf says and shuffles a piece of paper before sliding it my way.
“You want to trade Ax?” I ask, once I look at the paper.
“No, but there’s been an offer for him for next season. In a trade for Tom Eli from Vancouver.”
I nod, considering this. We haven’t played Vancouver in… a while. Eli doesn’t stand out. “Are you considering it?”
Bozendorf shrugs. “I’m not sure we’re getting a good deal. Eli has promise, but there are some that feel he’s already reached his peak.”
“Arguably so has Hildreth,” Demitri says. “Eli’s younger.”
I nearly roll my eyes. Nearly. It’s hard not to.
Instead of saying the snarky shit that scrolls through my head, I simply say, “I think it’s a mistake, but it’s not my decision.”
“It’s not, but we agree,” Bozendorf says, looking pointedly at Demitri. He clearly does not agree, but keeps his mouth shut.
Turning back to the list, there’s far more than three players. Two of which are from the farm team. The half a dozen others are in the draft.
“These are, ideally, the ones we’d like.
The top four we’d bring right to the Bobcats in any combination if we’re so lucky as to score three of them.
The second two we’d send to the AHL. If we succeed in signing off this list, the farm league names are who we’re considering bringing up to the Bobcats,” Bozendorf says.
“You think my injured guys will stay out,” I say.
“I think Minden will be back. Last report says Messer and Neilson will likely be out for at least the beginning of the season. Imonovich, we’re counting on being back to full strength.”
I nod as I look at this. “Can I take a picture of this list?”
“Take the paper,” Bozendorf says. “If you notice anyone else between now and the drafts that you’d like us to consider, please send me an email.”
Nodding again, I get to my feet. “Thank you. I appreciate you letting me into your meeting and again apologize for the interruption.”
Bozendorf smiles. “You’re welcome anytime, Adak.”
Returning his smile, I leave the fishbowl. Staring at the names as I walk down the hall, I let everything that I just learned trickle through my mind on repeat.
I’m not sure why, but I have a very strong urge to talk to Oren about the possibility of taking another job. I’m not seriously considering it. Not really. But…
The urge for someplace new isn’t based in hockey at all. For the first time in my entire adult life, hockey isn’t the center of my world. Without meaning to and in a very short time, I think Oren has now become the core. The foundation. The very heart of everything.
To start over somewhere that’s just us would be…
It’s far too soon to ask him to move across the country with me. Would he even want to? His family is here. His friends. We’re nowhere near established enough to consider long distance.
But… maybe…? I can’t deny how appealing the idea is.