Chapter 8 Cone of Silence
CONE OF SILENCE
MATS
I grab Zee on the way back to campus for a Monday night meeting of the Athletic Council. Generally, we meet three times a year, plus a holiday event with the dean. But this special meeting means there must be an issue. The last time this happened, we discussed Jordan Nelson’s case.
How are your donor dinners going? he asks.
Pretty well, actually. Much to my shock. I never expected to enjoy the dinners, but these Tuesdays have been a complete diversion from the stresses of my normal life. If only the food was healthier.
That’s good news. What’s this rich donor like?
Marjorie Schultz is pretty chill. She’s like your grandmother—if your grandmother was a radical feminist in the sixties.
I have Ukrainian babusi, so I can’t relate, Zee jokes.
I’m actually starting to look forward to these nights. Marjorie really lived a big life, so it’s interesting to hear her stories. Of course, sometimes it feels like she’s toying with us. Recreating the dances of the sixties made me feel like a performing monkey.
What about Cleo? Things going okay now? he asks.
It’s getting better. Not sure she’s over the whole Jordan thing yet.
Not to overstep, but do you blame yourself for that as well? Zee watches me closely. Of course, he discerns more than anyone else would. But that’s what makes it easy to talk to him; I can be more honest.
I nod. Yeah. Because I would never have complained about his racist behaviour if I hadn’t been explicitly asked. Would he have been suspended instead of kicked off the team if I’d kept my mouth shut?
After Nelson’s departure, I’d researched others problematic hockey players, and many received suspensions or changed teams after similar incidents. Of course, all those players had been highly skilled, because hockey is only forgiving if you’re valuable to them.
What would have happened if he got suspended instead? Zee’s tone is neutral, like we’re talking about alternate endings to a popular show.
Hopefully, he would have learned his lesson. He would have come back and been a better player, a better teammate. Like his sister. Cleo seems to be beloved by her teammates.
Zee laughs. The sound is jarring in the context of our serious conversation.
What’s so funny? I ask.
Your optimism. You’re projecting your own values onto Jordan Nelson.
If you were suspended, that’s exactly what you would do—buckle down and work even harder to show that you understood what you’d done wrong and how you’d changed.
He chuckles again. But someone like you would never be suspended in the first place.
That’s pretty harsh. It’s like you don’t believe in growth or rehabilitation. Gotta keep all those prisoners locked up.
An unexpected look of pain crosses Zee’s face, but he quickly recovers.
I think there are lots of people in the middle, a grey area where they can decide to be better…
or worse. But Nelson was lazy. One of those guys who’s been the best player on all his teams because he hasn’t played at the highest level.
But when he got here, he found out he was an average player at best.
But players improve a ton under Coach Norman. I did and so has Sinc. Jack and I played junior hockey together, so I can judge how far he’s come.
You have to listen to coaching to get better, and accept feedback and criticism. Nelson was frustrated that he wasn’t getting better, but instead of looking inward, he took it out on others. Zee’s tone is so matter-of-fact that the truth rings out.
We walk through the crisp winter night in silence. Maybe I am too optimistic about human nature. But even Cleo seems to be coming around. I don’t need everyone to like me, but she’s a ray of sunshine, and I could use some lightness.
Did you know he punched a teammate? In practice? he asks.
No fucking way. Who? Not that it should matter, but there are a few guys that you’d consider punching in the face.
Zee shoots me a sidelong glance. It was Bergy.
Bergy? That’s like kicking a puppy. Sure, he can be irritating at times, but he’s a good guy who’d do anything for a teammate.
And animal abuse is the number one crime in your book, right?
Zee teases. Yeah. Nelson hit him when nobody else saw, but I noticed that Bergy had a big bruise.
Zee points to his ribs. He was exactly like you.
Said it was just something between teammates, and he wouldn’t report it.
But when Coach started investigating Nelson’s behaviour, I encouraged Bergy to come forward.
Now more of the puzzle pieces are falling into place. First, there was the initial complaint from the other team. Then, my complaints, Bergy’s, and maybe more that I don’t know about. After all, I never got to see the entire file. Even Zee is piecing things together from what he knows directly.
We’re at the admin building now, and Zee presses the buzzer for after-hours entry. As it hums open, he holds the door for me. So, stop worrying. It was never one thing that got Nelson kicked off the team. It was a pattern of bad behaviour.
I nod. Seeing Cleo’s devotion to her brother makes me feel guilty. But it’s a relief to hear Zee’s wholly negative view of Nelson, which was my impression as well.
About half the Athletic Council is already here. We sit beside Ella Smith and Nora Knutson at the hockey end of the table. There are athletes from wrestling and track here too, as well as an intramurals rep.
Roger Gordon, Monarch’s Athletic Director, arrives last. He closes the boardroom door and takes his place at the head of the table. Instead of his usual smile, his expression is grim and serious, and the chatty room falls quiet.
Thank you all for making time in your busy schedules to come to this special meeting. As always, what you’re going to hear is confidential, but in this case, it’s even more important that you not discuss it, even among yourselves.
Having given this dramatic warning, he continues. As we all know, drug usage occurs among college athletes. However, just to make sure we’re all on the same page, I’m going to do a quick review.
He then proceeds to talk about common drugs used and the limited testing that’s done. He hands out a list of the eight categories of drugs banned for student athletes, and specific examples of drugs in each category.
The specific drugs we’re talking about tonight are in the stimulant category, Roger explains.
We’ve been in contact with the local police department, who are doing an investigation into the sale of ephedrine and amphetamines.
Obviously, these are prescription drugs that should not be used without a doctor’s supervision.
In any case, the reason you’re all here is that the investigation is now centring on Monarch College.
The police have reason to believe that one or more Monarch athletes are involved in selling these drugs.
Everyone shifts uncomfortably. All of us know that when the stakes are high, some athletes will do anything to attain an edge.
Certainly, if a good performance meant getting a chance to play NHL hockey, anyone could be tempted.
But that’s one of the reasons I like playing D3 hockey; the competition is high, but there’s less stress about making the pros.
My brother told me enough horror stories about the cutthroat competition he endured.
Let me be clear, we are not asking you to do any kind of investigating, as that might hamper the police investigation.
We don’t want those involved tipped off.
Rather, we are asking you to be our eyes and ears in Monarch sports.
If you observe any suspicious activity, I would appreciate hearing about it immediately.
Smitty raises her hand, and Roger nods.
How would you define suspicious activity? We’re not trained to spot drug usage.
Plus, it feels like we’d be ratting out our teammates, Knudy adds, and a few others nod. Our team bonds are stronger than our loyalties to the college administration.
Yes, good point. Let me make myself clear: Although we have a zero-tolerance policy for drug use among Monarch athletes, in this case, we’re more concerned that certain athletes are profiting from drug sales and harming the school’s reputation.
So, we’re not looking for athletes who use drugs, but where the drugs are coming from.
Can you tell us any more about the links to Monarch College? What tipped off the police? Scott Aronson asks. He’s a distance runner.
Roger shakes his head. I’m sorry, but that’s all part of the police investigation. They weren’t sure about even telling you this much, but I assured them that you are all eminently trustworthy.
There’s a mood of discontent in the room. Nobody wanted to hear that the reputation of our athletic program is in jeopardy and we can’t do anything about it. But we’re not getting enough information on why they think there’s a problem or exactly what we can do about it, other than keep an eye out.
Zee and I exchange skeptical looks as Roger finishes with a few more platitudes and then cautions us once more to keep this matter to ourselves. As if keeping Council information confidential isn’t already impacting my life enough.
Afterwards, Zee heads off for a late-night date, so I end up walking home with Smitty and Knudy.
Ugh, I don’t like all this drug stuff. It feels too much like we have to spy on our teammates, Smitty says, breaking Roger’s veto as soon as we’ve left the building.
It does feel like we’re not getting all the information. Like what we’re supposed to notice, I admit.
Yeah, well, nobody on the women’s team is pulling up in a blacked-out Range Rover, or whatever it is that drug dealers drive, Knudy says, and we all chuckle.
Is this person dealing to other athletes at Monarch? Because that wouldn’t even make you enough money to pay for a beater, I say. Monarch College only participates in a few intercollegiate sports.
Knudy shrugs. Who knows? It’s a ridiculous ask. If something obvious shows up, then fine. But in the meantime, I’m going to carry on like I never heard any of it. I don’t want to be second-guessing every time one of my teammates has a big game.
Besides, did you read the full list? Caffeine is a stimulant. I’m pretty sure that every hockey player at Monarch would test positive for caffeine, Smitty jokes.
We switch to talking about the playoffs, which are coming up in March. The women’s team has a good shot at winning.
If Smitty here keeps improving, we are looking good, Knudy declares.
Smitty blushes. She’s very modest for a hockey player. It’s Nellie who’s having an amazing year. She’s a scoring machine.
Speaking of Nellie, I hear you do a mean Mashed Potato, Knudy says with a laugh.
I suspected that she was revealing all the embarrassing details of our Tuesday-night dinners, I say.
She’s been entertaining the whole team with stories about you, Smitty admits.
They are pretty hilarious, Knudy says.
My public image these days is entirely shaped by women’s personal narratives instead of my true self. When I sigh heavily, Smitty reassures me. It’s all good. I didn’t know you had such a fun side, Mats.
That’s ironic, because Cleo has made it very clear that she isn’t having any fun with me. I’ve gotten to know these two pretty well, so we can talk frankly.
Knudy nods. Yeah, what’s with Cleo’s big hate-on for you? Did you swipe left on her or something?
Both women are looking at me with innocent curiosity. Can it be that Cleo—who blurts out her most embarrassing dates to complete strangers—has not told them that she blames me for her brother being cut from the team?
I stumble over my answer. Uh, I’m not really sure. Something from last year, I think.
Jesus, Mats. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar? Knudy observes. Almost as bad as Cleo. This whole deal is getting curiouser and curiouser.
Smitty chuckles. Better watch out, Mats. Detective Nora Knutson is on the case now. No secret is safe.
Maybe I’m being overscrupulous. After all, who better to talk to than two women who are both Cleo’s friends and on the Athletic Council? But if Cleo hasn’t told them, then it’s not up to me.
Subject change, please, I say. And we start talking about the rumour that the assistant coach of the men’s team is dating the assistant coach of the women’s team.