Chapter 11 #2
“I met your brother a few months ago,” Kinsey told him as Cosmo tried to climb up his leg.
“You . . . did?”
“Bellamy brought him to a team function.”
That was . . . interesting? Sort of. Though totally irrelevant.
“Is Dabbs around?” Kinsey asked. “I wanted to check in, see how he’s doing.”
As if Kinsey had summoned him, footsteps sounded on the stairs a moment before Dabbs appeared, slightly hunched over. It’d be another day or so before he could stand fully upright.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Kinsey said, sweeping Dabbs’ body up and down in a way that was purely clinical. “How are you feeling?”
Ryland did the same, though there was nothing clinical about his own sweep.
“Not bad,” Dabbs said. “Tired, a little bit sore, and already bored with the liquid diet I’m on, but overall, I can’t complain. Come in. Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll get it, whatever it is,” Ryland insisted. He jerked a finger in Dabbs’ direction. “You sit.”
Dabbs’ smile was very indulgent.
“I can’t stay long,” Kinsey said as he and Dabbs settled on the couch in the living room. The dogs jumped up between them. “I’ve got to pick up my kids at school soon. But speaking of kids . . . ”
As Ryland returned with a glass of water for both of them, Kinsey handed Dabbs what looked like a homemade card.
“Quinn insisted I bring it over today,” Kinsey said.
“Is that one of your kids?” Ryland asked. He placed the water glasses on the table and sat in the armchair across from the couch.
Kinsey nodded. “My son. He’s five. Ella’s seven.”
“Same ages as my nieces. That’s a fun age.”
“Is it?” Kinsey asked, though his expression held nothing but love.
“Things that made them cry this week include me not letting the cat drive them to school, my husband not letting them have maple syrup for breakfast—just syrup; they didn’t want the pancakes.
My daughter got annoyed because her younger brother kept looking at her, and my son wants shoes like his friend Jacob. Spoiler alert: there is no Jacob.”
Ryland laughed, but when Dabbs made to rise, he cut it short and shot to his feet. “What do you need? I can get it.”
Dabbs shot him an amused look. “I need to take a piss.”
The wind went out of Ryland’s sails. “Right. Sure. I guess . . . you can do that by yourself?”
“Been doing it by myself for years.” Dabbs winked at him as he ambled past and exited the room, the dogs following after him.
“How’s he doing really?” Kinsey asked quietly.
“Good.” Ryland sat. “You don’t need to worry about him. He’s taking his recovery seriously.”
“And how are you doing?”
Surprised by the question—though he wasn’t sure why—Ryland stumbled over his words. “Me? Oh. Good. Fine. Sure, yeah, I’m . . . ” He looked at his right shoulder, only now realizing that he’d forgotten his sling in the bathroom. “I’m taking care of myself.”
If Kinsey was amused by him, he didn’t show it. “Glad to hear it.”
Ryland debated with himself for a minute, working his mouth as he thought.
Fuck it.
He scooted to the edge of the armchair. “Since you’re here . . . Can I pick your brain about being a director of player engagement?”
“What do you want to know?”
“To start with . . . what does that mean? Dabbs said you’re in charge of keeping the players happy.”
Kinsey let out a sound that could’ve been a laugh. “That’s an oversimplified way of putting it.”
“I’m not wrong, though,” Dabbs said, re-entering the room and gingerly lowering himself to the couch. The dogs trotted in after him and sat at his feet.
“No, but you’re not entirely right either.
” Kinsey gave Ryland his full attention.
“When I was captain of the Trailblazers, I did a lot of research on team cohesiveness—basically the glue that holds a team together. Cohesive teams have strong relationships built on trust, respect, and open communication. I wanted the Trailblazers environment to be one where everyone felt welcome. Where people could be themselves. Where the players wanted to be there, despite Burlington’s shit winters and the fact that you can’t fly anywhere direct. ”
Ryland choked on a laugh.
Kinsey leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
“If players form bonds with their teammates, they’ll be more motivated to train harder and work through difficulties better, making them more committed to each other.
And if they’re committed to each other, they show up for each other.
It’s as simple as that.” He shrugged one shoulder.
“So when Dabbs said my job is to keep the players happy, that’s true to an extent.
But it’s much more than that. It’s making sure players like each other, that they can work through their shit without it turning into an all-out brawl or giving each other the cold shoulder for days.
And for that we need those bonds built on trust, respect, and communication.
That doesn’t happen overnight. Which is where I come in.
Building an engaging environment isn’t just about the job—it’s about building a space where players feel valued, inspired, and connected to each other and the organization. ”
That sounded like exactly what Ryland was trying to do with the Pilots. “How do you do that? Help those bonds form, I mean?”
Kinsey waggled his head side to side, one of those it’s complicated gestures.
“It all starts with the kind of players we acquire for our team. But it also has a lot to do with perks, senior management that respects the team’s culture, team-bonding activities, and ensuring the team isn’t too cliquey.
Cliques will—and have—formed anyway, but not to the point where another player can’t find a way in. ”
This information was so good Ryland wished he’d recorded their conversation. “How did you get this job? And for your old team too?”
Kinsey’s smile was very smug. “I created the role. A few months before I retired from hockey, I told senior management why they should keep me on board. That culture I’d fostered for more than a decade? It would fizzle and die without me.”
“You created the opportunity for yourself.”
“I’ve found in life that most opportunities come from within.
If you wait for them to fall in your lap, you’ll be waiting a long time.
And on that note . . . ” Kinsey rose and grabbed his leather jacket from where he’d draped it over the arm of the couch.
“I’ve got to pick up my kids. Call me if you need anything. Either of you.”
He left without much fanfare, and Ryland closed the door behind him.
On the couch, Dabbs ran both hands down his face and yawned. Ryland had been hoping to continue whatever had been happening in the bathroom, but Dabbs’ recovering body clearly needed something else.
“I think I’m going to take a nap,” Dabbs murmured, confirming Ryland’s suspicions.
“I’ll have dinner ready when you wake up. How does chicken broth and Jell-O sound?”
Dabbs made a face. “Depends on the Jell-O flavor.”
“I bought one of almost everything at the store. Orange, cherry, raspberry.” Ryland tried to recall the other flavors he’d added to his cart. “Lemon, strawberry, strawberry-banana, peach, apricot, pineapple—”
“That one.” Dabbs stood and the dogs perked up, perhaps wondering if they were going on a walk. “The pineapple.”
“Leave it to me. You two,” Ryland said, addressing the dogs. “What are your thoughts on the dog park?”
Tails wagged. Cosmo rushed him, and Castle ran for the front door.
“Guess they know that word.”
“Thanks for taking them,” Dabbs said. “I was worried they’d be bored with me laid up.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Nursemaid and dog minder.” Ryland stepped into his running shoes and grabbed his hoodie from the coat rack by the door. “I’m putting that on my resume.”
Dabbs let out a short laugh. “See you in a bit.”