Chapter 25 #2
I found Coach Brennan in his office, door closed against the noise, a rare smile on his weathered face as he looked at game statistics. “What a game,” he said when I entered. “That goal of Rivera’s—”
“Coach, we need to talk.”
His expression shifted, recognizing my tone. “What’s wrong?”
“McLaughlin knows. About my background. Says media attention is coming.”
Brennan leaned back in his chair. “I wondered when this would happen. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t want this to affect Adan’s draft prospects or the team’s championship run. If it breaks big, it could derail everything and focus the conversation on me instead of the team… and Adan.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“I need to announce it myself. Control the narrative before tabloids turn it into something bigger.”
Brennan studied me for a long moment. “That’s going to bring a circus to our door.”
“Better a controlled circus than a surprise one during the championship game.”
“True.” He sighed. “When?”
“I thought I could do it tonight. The post-game press conference starts in ten minutes. Get it out, redirect focus back to the team, move on.”
Brennan scratched his chin. “You sure about this?”
“I don’t like it anymore than you do, but it’s the right thing to do. For Adan, for the team.”
Brennan nodded slowly. “I knew when we hired you this day would come, so I can’t really complain. It’s your call, Nils. I’ll support whatever you decide.”
My family would be asleep, but I still sent them a text to prepare themselves, then alerted our media coordinator. Finally, I sent off a quick message to Floris, Tore, and Greg. Greg was probably asleep, but Floris and Tore—both in the same time zone as me—replied instantly.
Tore
Brace for impact…
Floris
Good luck. Been there, done that. It wasn’t fun.
Me
Thanks…
The press conference was typical post-game fare.
Adan was glowing as he answered questions about his goal, about the team’s chemistry, about their championship hopes.
Brennan discussed strategy and preparation for the championship game.
Beat reporters asked the usual questions about matchups and momentum.
I stood to the side, waiting for the right moment. When there was a lull, I stepped forward.
“If I may, I’d like to address something before rumors begin.”
The room’s attention shifted to me, reporters suddenly alert to the possibility of a story.
“I’ve been coaching here under my middle name, which is Anders, but my full name is Prince Nils Anders Gustav Bernadotte of Sweden.”
The silence was deafening. I saw Adan’s head snap toward me, shock clear on his face. He’d had no idea I was going to do this.
“I came to America to pursue my passion for coaching without the weight of titles or expectations. Millard College gave me that opportunity, and I’m grateful for it.”
Hands shot up, voices calling out questions. I held up my hand.
“What matters tonight is that this remarkable team has earned a chance to compete for a championship. These young men have worked incredibly hard, shown tremendous character, and deserve to have their achievements celebrated. I wanted to address this now so we can return focus to where it belongs: on Millard’s championship run and these exceptional players. ”
The explosion of questions was immediate.
“Why hide your identity?”
“Does the team know?”
“Is this why you’re in Buffalo?”
“What does the royal family think?”
I fielded questions as briefly as possible, redirecting constantly back to the team, to Adan’s goal, to their championship hopes. Yes, I was a prince. No, it didn’t affect my coaching. Yes, I’d return to royal duties eventually. No, I couldn’t comment on the royal family’s position.
Then Brennan cleared his throat. “I want to add to this that I’ve known who Coach Anders was the whole time.
I knew when I hired him. Personally, I couldn’t care less about his title.
All that matters to me and to the team is that he’s an exceptionally talented coach who has been crucial to our team’s success this season.
But at the end of the day, it’s not about him or us as coaches.
It’s about these boys, these players who have given their all on the ice.
That’s the story here. Anyway, that’s all for tonight.
We’ve got a championship to prepare for. ”
I escaped through a side door, needing air, needing a moment to calm my racing heart. The hallway was empty with everyone either still in the press room or celebrating in the locker room.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
I turned to find Adan standing there, dressed in training pants and his Mavericks polo shirt, emotions warring on his face.
“Because you would’ve tried to stop me.”
“You’re damn right I would. This is going to be everywhere. Your picture, your story—”
“Better now than later, when it would distract from your accomplishments.”
He stopped, understanding dawning. “You did this to protect me.”
“McLaughlin warned me he’d found out, and if he did, others won’t be far behind.
If I’d waited, it would’ve come out as a scandal, as something that we tried to hide, and you would’ve been associated with that.
You’re about to achieve everything you’ve worked for.
I won’t let my background overshadow that. ”
“Nils…”
“Three more months,” I said quietly. “We’ve made it this far. This doesn’t change anything.”
“Doesn’t it? Every reporter in Buffalo is going to be following you now.”
“Then they’ll see a coach doing his job, nothing more.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, to reach for me, to do something other than stand there with careful distance between us. But footsteps echoed from around the corner: teammates looking for their star player.
“Three more months,” he repeated, then turned and walked away.
I stood alone in the hallway, listening to his teammates congratulate him, tease him, pull him back into their celebration. Three more months felt both impossibly close and impossibly far away.
But tonight, I’d protected what mattered most: Adan’s moment, his future, his dreams. Even if it meant exposing my own carefully guarded secret to the world.
It was worth it. He was worth it.
He would always be worth it.