Chapter 27 #3
I nodded. “I think everyone knows what happened to Early before the season started. And me and him—we’ve been close since major juniors, so I took it hard.
I took it really hard.” My throat was getting tight, but I was not breaking down in front of a camera, damn it, not even when I knew this could be edited.
So, I barreled on. “The truth is, I wanted to move on faster than I was ready to. I felt the pressure to be captain, and to keep…” I shook my head.
“I put too much on myself. And when it got to be too much, I started drinking to deal with it. So… that’s why I’m in the program. ”
“For alcohol?”
“For…” I pursed my lips. “Kind of? The alcohol was a bandage over something I needed to deal with. The hardest part of the program hasn’t been giving up the alcohol—it’s dealing with the stuff underneath.”
“The grief for your teammate?”
“The grief for my best friend, yeah.” I cleared my throat. “At the end of the day, I just had to step back, take care of myself, and let myself grieve the way I needed to. The way I wouldn’t let myself in the beginning.”
“And is that going well?” Falon raised her eyebrows, and I got the sense she was asking from both a journalistic place and a genuine, personal place.
“It is, yeah. It’s hard. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t.
But I think that was one of the things I had to make peace with—that losing someone like Leif is hard, and I shouldn’t expect myself to be okay overnight.
So this whole player assistance program thing—it hasn’t been about alcohol at all.
It’s about learning to be good to myself and give myself room to feel pain.
You’d think that kind of pain comes whether you let it or not, but it turns out… ” I trailed off into a half shrug.
“That’s amazing.” She sounded sincere, as if she were really saying that to me and not just to the camera. “So the program has been helpful for you—that’s great to hear.”
“It has been.” I had a flash of memory of the shame I’d felt when I’d made the announcement, and of the times I’d seen other players looking humiliated as they too entered the program, and some determination surged inside me.
“If there’s one thing I hope fans and players alike can take away from my experience, it’s that there’s no shame in asking for help.
It’s hard, admitting you’ve got a problem—whether it’s with drinking or with something up here.
” I tapped my temple. “But man, things get a million times easier when you realize how many people are pulling for you and how much help is really available.”
“Excellent point,” Falon said, nodding as she spoke. “Those resources are available, and there’s no shame in using them.”
“Exactly. And…” I hesitated, making sure my voice was going to stay steady.
“If you know someone who’s struggling, reach out to them.
They might reject it at first. They might be in denial and they might get hostile toward you.
But it makes a big difference, knowing someone gives a—knowing someone cares.
” I swallowed. “I don’t even want to imagine how far down the rabbit hole I’d have gone, and how much I’d have destroyed my life, my career, and my body if Peyton Hall hadn’t been incredibly persistent. I owe him more than I can ever repay.”
Falon asked me a few more questions about how I was doing, and then she smiled as she asked, “One last thing—do you think Whiskey Rebel fans will see you play again this season?”
I returned the smile, and I meant it as I said, “I’m very optimistic.”
“Good. Everyone in Pittsburgh and in the League is in your corner, Calds, and we’re looking forward to seeing you in black and gold again.”
She did the usual signoff so the network could transition back to the commentators when the interview as actually broadcast, and the interview was over.
As soon as the camera was off, Falon stepped closer and hugged me again. “I’m so sorry you’ve been struggling. I knew you had to be having a hard time, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
I returned the unexpected hug and chuckled softly. “It probably wouldn’t have been quite as hard if I hadn’t been so stupid and stubborn about it.”
“Nah.” She let me go, and as she pulled back, she met my gaze. “Nobody wants to feel that way, and I mean, I’ve been covering hockey for a long time. I know how close you boys get.” She gestured with her microphone at the locker room door. “You’re not the only one who’s had a tough time.”
I grimaced. “I just hope it hasn’t been harder on them, watching me collapse like this.”
“No. Quite the opposite, from what I’ve seen.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You remember what happened after the home opener?”
I shuddered. “I wish I didn’t.”
“Right, well, I know it wasn’t fun for you, but I think it did your teammates more good than you might think.”
“It—” I blinked. “It did?”
“Well, yeah. Especially the younger guys. They’re all trying to be tough and pretend nothing affects them, but then when they see you buckle under it, they realize it’s not just them, and it’s okay to hurt that much.
” She squeezed my arm. “I know you’re afraid everyone thought you were weak or that you let them down, but you couldn’t be more wrong. ”
My throat constricted around my breath. It hadn’t occurred to me that the rest of the team might be struggling the same way I was—not sure how to grieve or how to release some of those unfamiliar and horrible emotions.
All I’d imagined was them keeping their game faces on while they held me up, the whole time thinking they could never look at me the same again.
Or that they’d overestimated my ability to lead this team.
“I didn’t think about that,” I admitted. “I thought…” The words stuck in my tight throat.
“These men love you, Calds.” She gave my arm another squeeze before letting go.
“From what they’ve said to me, they’ve been in awe all this time that you stayed upright as long as you did, and that when you hit your breaking point, you didn’t completely crash and burn.
” She smiled. “You’re tougher than you think, hon, and everyone in there”—she nodded toward the locker room—“knows it.”
I swallowed past that obnoxious lump. It was hard to believe that, but I’d learned that I was wrong about a lot of things over the past few months. There was no reason to think this couldn’t be an exception.
“I should go in and see them,” I said. “Before they have to have their game faces on.”
She nodded and left me to it, heading down the hall toward the ice, probably to set up by the bench for rink-side interviews during warmups.
Alone in the hallway, I paused for a moment to steel myself. I had no reason to believe my intrusive thoughts were right when they’d been wrong about so many other things.
Finally, I took a deep breath.
Then I pushed open the door and stepped into the locker room.