Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
With the fate of my career up in the air, I leave my agent to work his magic behind the scenes. I understand only as much as necessary about the logistical side of being a professional athlete, leaving the rest to the expert.
A few days pass, and then Robbie sends a packed email with reasonable proposals from three different teams: Montreal, San Diego, and New York.
There are others, but they’ve been flagged by him as fall-back plans rather than top choices.
He’s been in the business long enough to be able to compare my value with the offers, knowing which teams are underrating me and which are overly desperate.
I share the news with Eric, and as promised, he puts everything aside to help me.
This isn’t a decision to take lightly, and I need his expertise and experience as much as Robbie’s.
We spend hours inside his home office reading over each proposal and doing additional research about each team, compiling notes detailing the pros and cons of each team’s offer.
While Eric’s away to get started with dinner, a ping chimes from my phone. It’s a new email from Robbie with a subject line which makes my stomach flip.
FW: Seattle Seadogs Inquiry RE: James Harrison, Goaltender
I’ve never opened an email faster.
James,
Hope you’re processing everything I’ve already sent and are as excited about your future in the NHL as I am.
This email just came in today from the Seadogs front office.
I would look over what they sent closely.
This contract could be exactly what you’re looking for in the long run.
I’ll be upfront with you: this offer isn’t for a starting position, but this is a role you could grow into while on a cup contending team.
Really think about all this. You have time.
When you’re ready to discuss the next step, I’m just a call away.
Good luck!
— Robbie
On pins and needles, I scroll through the email, reading the details of the Seadogs’ proposal.
They’re looking for a new goaltender to support their starter, Eric Sinclair, and the team’s management believes I’m the most qualified man for the job.
They’re interested in developing a goalie tandem with the intention of having two high quality goalies for another run at the Stanley Cup before their core retires.
This position would have the potential of transitioning to the starting role after Eric retires if I perform well.
Is this offer even real? The Seadogs need a new backup? Since when? Eric never mentioned anything, but he also wouldn’t be involved in these sorts of behind-the-scenes conversations.
But the thought of being able to stay with Eric for more than just the summer? Playing on the same team as him? Learning from the best?
“Hey, we’re out of more food than I realized, so I—”
Startled, I turn off my phone and snap my head to Eric leaning in the doorway.
“Everything alright?” he asks.
I should tell him. The Seadogs are his team after all, but a wave of anxiety holds my tongue.
“Yeah,” I murmur, scratching my neck. “Just… Just thinking about all this.”
“Don’t let yourself get overwhelmed. We’re working through it.” Eric bends down and kisses my forehead. “I ended up ordering a few pizzas.”
“Thanks, that sounds awesome.”
Thinking about my future has been stressful on the brain.
A slice or three of pizza will help alleviate the pressure, but this new added wrinkle from the Seadogs has completely caught me off-guard, causing me to rethink everything.
I’m not ready to bring the email up to Eric, but I need an outside perspective.
“I think I’m going to call my dad and let him know how things are going. I won’t be long.”
Eric nods. “Take all the time you need. When the food arrives, it’ll be in the kitchen.”
For privacy, I head out to the back patio, closing the sliding glass door behind me. I crash onto the outdoor couch and call my dad. After one ring, my dad answers.
“James! I’m glad you called.” Just hearing my dad’s familiar voice helps me breathe easier. “How’s it going?”
“Everything’s been going well.” Short, sweet, and significantly abridged.
“Are you still in Seattle with Eric?”
“Yeah, haven’t left yet.”
“So when am I going to be able to meet him?”
I chuckle sheepishly. “Soon, I hope.”
Time to focus on the main reason I called.
“Robbie followed up with me today on contract options going forward.”
“I take it Chicago’s off the table?”
“Yeah.”
Even if Chicago offered me a new contract, I wouldn’t take it at this point. I’m as done with them as they are with me.
“He sent me a list of the teams who are interested.”
“That’s great! Have you decided on a new home?”
“That’s why I called. Do you have some time?”
“I just wrapped up for the day at the office, so I’m all ears.”
“I’ve never… I’ve never done this before. I want your opinion on the options.”
“Robbie didn’t give his?”
“He did, but this is a big decision. I’d like your help, dad.”
My relationship with my dad is a two-way street. He’s shown interest in my career, so I have to extend the same to him.
“Whatever you need from me, James.”
With his go ahead, I start breaking down the teams who have shown interest. Eric and I compiled a list of pros and cons for each option, and I’ve added more notes too.
My dad may not understand all the nuances of each option, but he’s a smart man with decades more life experience.
I would be a fool to not ask for his advice.
Switching teams is similar to changing jobs in other industries, often involving similar logistics.
The first team we discuss is Montreal, a regular playoff contender in the east. They’re looking for a backup to play behind their starter, but there’s one major problem: the language barrier.
I’ve picked up some French over the years from some of my teammates, but Montreal’s roster is currently stacked with French speaking players.
Not ideal, but not impossible to overcome.
“I’m sure you would find a way to get into a rhythm with the other players,” my dad says, “and you’d probably pick up some French over time, but I understand it would be a tough hurdle nonetheless.”
“Montreal’s also a tough hockey market… but they all are, I guess.”
“Well, hockey’s Canada’s sport. High expectations aplenty!” My dad huffs a laugh. “Does that worry you?”
“I mean, yeah kinda. I’m not exactly coming off the best season.”
Montreal has a storied history in the league. There’s something romantic about the idea of playing for one of the first professional teams ever created, but when you take off the rose-colored glasses, Montreal would be a significant challenge.
“I’d need to get a work visa, and you’d have to update your passport if you wanted to visit.”
“Don’t let a little paperwork stand in your way if you’re genuinely interested in the team.”
When I don’t answer with immediate enthusiasm, my dad hums in thought.
“Sounds like Montreal’s a big maybe right now.”
I jot down the word ‘maybe?’ on my notes beside Montreal. Not a perfect option, but none of them are. I knew going into this I couldn’t be picky.
There’s San Diego, a team which needs a starting goalie to round out their ongoing rebuild. I explain to my dad the particulars of a franchise rebuild, and he follows in his own way.
“So it’s as if a university replaced the majority of their tenured professors with a slew of new hires, and they’re still trying to get used to each other?"
“Basically. Usually with rebuilding teams, any veteran players take over leadership roles to help give the new guys guidance. I’d have to step into that role as the starter.”
“That sounds exciting.”
“It can be, sure?”
“But you’re not interested in that?”
“Do you enjoy being department chair?”
My dad laughs. “Fair point.”
Neither of us have been the type-A sort.
We love our jobs, but we love focusing on them without added duties.
Sometimes being a leader is inevitable, as in the case of his department’s chair position being shifted every year to a different professor.
As important as it is to work with others and grow as a team, I’m unsure if adopting that kind of leadership role is what I want at this stage in my career.
“San Diego’s nice though,” he acknowledges. “Sunny year around.”
“Yeah, sure, but we spend half the season on the road anyways.”
“Okay, well you said there were four options. What about the other two?”
New York. They’ve been playing with two goalies on their roster, but they’re looking to add a third into their rotation to put a fire under the others since their goaltending’s been shaky.
Arguably, the goaltending problems are what cost them the Stanley Cup this year against Los Angeles, but I can’t say I don’t sympathize.
Every goalie who ran into Wes Harper had a bad time.
I tell my dad this option would involve me fighting for the right to play regularly.
I don’t mind competition—I had to fight to keep my spot on the Comets’ roster initially—but being part of a trio of goalies would mean less minutes on the ice overall.
“I don’t need to play every night, but I do better when I’m able to get into a routine.”
“And sometimes they wouldn’t have you suit up?”
“Only twenty players can be on the lineup any given game night.”
“But what if both goalies were injured during the same game?”
Of course my dad would consider the most absurd possibility.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “You pray it never does. You’d be in really, really bad shape.”
“So it sounds like New York is a less than ideal choice. What’s the fourth?”
I hesitate, my fingers drumming against the armrest of the chair. “The Seadogs showed interest.”
“Wow! That’s huge! How come you didn’t start with that offer? Wouldn’t playing with Eric be perfect? You’d be able to stay together during the season.”
“It would be great, sure, but it’s…” I let out a sigh. “It’s not that simple, dad.”