8. Josh
JOSH
As a general rule, I wasn’t a fan of press after practice.
I was tired and hungry, and getting through the wall of cameras and recorders was all that was stopping me from getting food.
Typically, it wasn’t something we had to deal with.
Tournaments like this and the Olympics were the exception.
With so little time in our packed schedules to sneak in interviews, there wasn’t much of a choice, and it wasn’t their fault.
But I did tend to get a bit hangry.
“Hold it together,” Hartman snuck me a protein bar as we shuffled to the next reporter waiting with their recorder already stretched out toward us.
I eyed the wrapper. Almond and wild berry. It wasn’t anywhere close to being in my top twenty favorite flavors. I wasn’t even sure it was a protein bar anymore. Was it just a nut cluster thing? I hated those. Sure, they said they had protein and calories, but it never made me feel full.
“How are you guys feeling after a few days of practicing together?”
Since the man hadn’t specifically addressed me, I let the others answer, while I ate it in three quick bites.
Yup, trash.
“And you, Henson. How does it feel playing with some of your rivals rather than against them?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth to feel for anything, then shrugged.
“It’s always a bit odd to watch them shoot at another goalie when the games start, but during practice it’s pretty normal.
” I smiled. “Nothing like blocking ten or twelve shots from Nyberg in five minutes. He can try, but he’ll never get past me. ”
I heard Levi Nyberg, our other alternate captain, chuckle from a few feet away and found him shaking his head. “No need to call me out, we’re teammates, remember?”
The guys around us laughed, and we moved on to the next reporter, going through the motions of the same basic questions.
“Are you feeling prepared to face the Stripes?”
“Which player are you most nervous to play against?”
“Are East and West Coast rivalries fueling you?”
Things only got interesting when we got to Kinsley Jameson, who finally treated us as people rather than hockey robots.
“Have you had any time to explore DC?” she asked.
“Not as much as I’d like,” Hartman looked at me, and I nodded.
“Hopefully, we can take in more during the parade,” Schultz grinned. “At least from afar.”
It wasn’t groundbreaking reporting, but it was something fresh.
“What’s this?” Hartman elbowed me and pointed.
“Oh,” Schultz hurried over. “This looks interesting.”
“Are you guys sure you’re not too tired from practice?” another woman asked. She was holding a camera near her waist and had short pink hair that swung from side to side as she spoke.
“I’m never too tired for mini stick,” Hartman dropped to his knees and grabbed the nearest stick on the floor, immediately shooting a small puck at the empty net. “Score!”
I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t count.” I lowered to one knee and picked up the mini goalie stick.
He shot again, and I easily blocked it.
“Come on, Schultzy,” Hartman called, and Erik joined us on the ground, passing a puck to Hartman.
I watched them pass back and forth and saw Schultz’s mind decide the plan a second before he threw his body on the ground, shooting for my right shoulder as he fell. I popped up enough to block it and came down hard on my knees.
“Ah, I’m too old for this.” I laughed as Hartman hurried and took another shot without giving me a chance to get up.
I threw my elbow up, but the puck got past me.
“Goal!” Schultz roared.
“You get all that?” a female voice asked.
I turned as I was standing up to see Victoria next to the camerawoman.
What was she doing here? She was working with Miles.
“Yup,” the pink-haired woman grinned. “I almost don’t think we even need to ask them questions after that.”
Victoria nodded. “It’s great content, but maybe one just in case.”
As if we weren’t standing in front of them, they decided, and Victoria stepped forward. “We’ve had to bribe the guys from the Stripes to play. I’m glad you were much more willing participants.”
Schultz lifted a brow. “Now it feels like you set up a trap.”
Hartman nodded. “The best way to capture hockey players.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to explain before you dove in,” Victoria teased.
“Can we go?” Micah asked behind me, with Dante at his side.
“Just a second.” Victoria held up a finger before checking with the other woman who had the camera up and gave her a thumbs-up.
“We have one of the alternate captains joining us with his Utah teammates.” She smiled at the camera as it panned to us.
“Wyatt, what have you found to be the best way to unite when you all come from different teams?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “It’s all about the game. We love it, and we want to win. Joining forces to make that happen is all that matters.”
“Erik, do you have anything to add?”
He smiled. “Yeah, we might all play against each other during the season, but we can put that aside because right now, we’re wearing the same jersey.”
She beamed at that, then turned to me. “And Josh, as the goalies, you, Joel, and Jason, set the tone for the team. What have you found to be the best motivation?”
Her smile never wavered, but I caught the moment her eyes met mine, and she didn’t see a grin reflected back.
Her question was just a variation of the same she’d asked Hartman and Schultz so I could come up with a bland regurgitation of what they already said, but that would make me look stupid, when it was the question.
It was like she set me up on purpose. How many ways would we say the same thing?
“We all want to win.” I finally answered. What other motivation was there? Pride was the only thing at stake. There was no money or Stanley Cup waiting for us, so this was just about bragging rights.
The corners of her lips turned down, but she quickly recovered. “Exactly.” She turned back to the camera and smiled for a moment before sucking in a breath and spinning around. “Thanks, guys.”
“Sure,” Hartman replied. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” He was moving to the camerawoman while Schultz hung back by me, staring me down.
“I’m Cambrie.” They shook hands, and he grinned.
“You guys have a fun set-up,” he told her before looking at Victoria. “See you both later.”
He walked off, leaving Schultz and me to follow as Micah and Dante took our place. Once we went down the hall toward the exit, he turned into an empty storage room and waved us in.
I felt myself tense as he shut the door and slowly turned to face me. “That’s the second time.”
Schultz crossed his arms and angled himself so he could also glare at me. “You’re making it really awkward.”
“I told you I’d bring this up with Abrams, but I waited to see if it was a fluke.” Hartman was using his captain’s voice, the strong and authoritative one that I rarely had directed at me. “It wasn’t.”
There was no getting out of this room without telling them, so I leaned back against the only table. “She wrote about me.”
“Well, she’s a journalist, so––” Schultz started, but I cut him off.
“My rookie year,” I continued, and he grimaced.
“That was a long time ago,” Hartman stated as if I’d forgotten.
“Some words can't be forgotten,” I rubbed my jaw. “She came for one practice and one game; I didn't even get to play. Between Olli and Derek, I barely even dressed out that season.”
I only moved up to backup when Olli got hurt, but still didn’t even play more than a few games.
“She was spotlighting a bunch of players from my draft year. I only got a paragraph compared to the pages she wrote for some of the other guys, but she crammed in as many insults as she could.” I really hated that I still got angry over this.
“I’ve had bad things written about me before.
We all have. But it felt personal. She interviewed me for like two hours, then turned around and said I’d never be a starter.
That the league was in desperate need of goalies, and someone better would quickly replace me in the next year or two. ”
“Dang,” Schultz shook his head. “That’s messed up.”
Hartman stayed quiet, so I continued to explain. “I’m not sure why it stayed with me when other journalists have said dumb things about me. Maybe because it felt like she actually took the time to get to know me as a person before deciding I was trash?”
“She must have been young then too. Just starting out.”
“She said it was her first big piece,” I admitted.
“So maybe she felt like she had something to prove too.”
I didn’t like his trying to defend her. “So cutting others down is the way to do it?”
“No, absolutely not, but you can’t tell me you never did something stupid or that you regret when you were twenty-two.”
“Sure, I made mistakes, but I never blasted someone else.” I was getting too worked up over something that didn’t really matter, but it was too late.
“She has no idea that her words made me feel inferior and like an imposter for years. That it shook me to my core and left me second-guessing myself and whether I’d lose my spot on the team every time I missed a save.
” I put my hand over my chest. “I had anxiety over being called into the GM’s office every single day, waiting for them to tell me they had found my replacement. ”
“Henson,” Hartman started, but I shook my head.
“I know it was one stupid article. I know it didn’t mean anything, and she turned out to be wrong, but she pushed herself up in her career by stepping on guys like me.”
“Why didn't you say something to her?” Schultz asked quietly.
“Because she doesn’t even seem to remember!
” I let out a humorless laugh. “I avoided her during the Olympics, and she didn’t notice.
She interviewed everyone, players from other countries, but completely missed that she never once spoke to the starting goalie.
Then here, she asked me a repetitive question that made me sound like an idiot, and she doesn’t even remember me.
She haunted me for years! Messed with my head, and she doesn't remember.”
Hartman let out a long sigh, and Schultz moved to lean on the table beside me. “Wow.”
“That’s pretty messed up,” Hartman finally admitted.
“Definitely salt to the wound,” Schultz agreed.
Finally, they understood.
“She really didn’t talk to you once at the Olympics?” Schultz asked.
“Nope.”
“How?” he asked. “She ate with us all the time.”
“She was focused on the women,” Hartman pointed out.
“But to never talk to our goalie? That’s weird.”
“It is,” Hartman shook his head. “I’m sorry, Henson. It really sucks, but look at where you are now. Look how far your career has come. Isn’t that the best payback for her article?”
“I guess.”
“It’s the best proof you could possibly have,” Schultz joined in. “You won the Stanley Cup, represented and won gold in the Olympics, and here you are now at a once in a lifetime event. I think that sufficiently proves she was wrong about you.”
“Exactly, you don’t get those accolades because managers and coaches feel bad for you.
It’s because you’re an incredible goaltender who deserves to be here.
” Hartman patted my back. “Focus on the team and enjoy the moment. Press is a necessary part of that, but Schultz and I will try to deflect as much from her as we can.”
“Yeah, we’ll make sure the other guys give her plenty of interviews so she can’t get mad.” Schultz bumped his shoulder against mine. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, can we get food? I’m starving.”
“Yes, please.” I pushed away from the table and headed back into the hall when heavy footsteps echoed.
“Have you seen Taz?” Tyson yelled as soon as he saw us.
“Before practice,” Hartman answered. “He left with the rest of the Stripes team.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“He thinks he’s funny.”
“He was the one who sewed your jersey?” Schultz asked.
I tried to keep the smile off my face, but the sight of him struggling to push his head through before practice will live rent-free in my mind forever.
“It had to be. We all arrived together, so it wasn’t someone from our team, and he was taunting me. Saying he was going to mess with me.”
“He would have had time,” Hartman chuckled, “but I didn’t know he was also a seamstress.”
“Seamster,” Schultz blurted.
“What?” Hartman asked.
“A male sewer is a seamster,” he explained.
Tyson shook his head. “Apparently, he has a few tricks up his sleeves.”
He headed toward the exit, and we slowly followed, sharing smiles but not wanting to get caught laughing at our captain.