10. Josh
JOSH
Iwasn’t aware the guys would join me in leaving. At least, not the whole team. When Hartman said they had my back, I assumed it was just him and Schultz.
I didn’t know they would boycott everyone either. I thought it would just be her…
Deep down, I knew I should feel bad. We didn’t just leave Victoria, but all the press in an awkward position. At least they had East to interview.
It wasn’t even that I wanted to punish her, or any of the other journalists, but I couldn’t just stand there and play nice either. There had to be consequences for her actions, her words.
Not everything that gets published or put on social media needed to be positive. I was well aware of that fact, but it didn’t need to be hurtful either.
It was one thing for a fan to say you sucked after a bad game, or for rival fans to bash on you.
But a journalist? One that worked for a well-respected network like Sports Now?
That required a level of professionalism she hadn’t displayed, and I was finally getting a chance to do something about it.
“Any heat from the coaches?” I asked Hartman as I changed into my warmups after practice. It had been another grueling day. I couldn’t prove it, but I think the others were enjoying taking shots at me a little too much.
“No, but it’s only been a day. I’m sure if we stay silent for one or two more, they’ll start to hear complaints,” he replied as he pulled on his shirt.
“We can take as long as we need to,” Schultz promised as he stood and glanced around the locker room. There were only a few of us in here since we had about an hour before practice.
“Henson?” Kingston Brewer called as he walked in. When he spotted me, he pointed over his shoulder. “You’ve got a visitor waiting.”
“A visitor?” Mario teased “Did you find someone in DC?”
“No,” I had no idea who it could be.
“Go on,” Kingston encouraged as he passed me.
I shared a look with Hartman and Schultz before walking out.
Victoria stood with a box in her hands and several bags at her feet. Her bright smile wavered when she saw me, but she quickly recovered. “Hi, Josh.”
“Hi.” I stayed several feet back.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, looking as surprised by the outburst as I was. She shook her head. “Ah, sorry. I’ve a whole speech planned, but I just really need you to know first that I’m sorry.”
I crossed my arms. “For?”
She struggled with the box and looked around before finally setting it down in front of her. “I’m sorry for the article.” She reached back and pulled her phone from her pocket. “If you’ll let me explain.”
“Explain exactly what you meant when you said I wouldn’t last the season? That was pretty easy to understand. Even for an overrated, empty-headed kid that had obviously taken too many pucks to the head.”
She grimaced. At least she recognized her own words.
“I didn’t write that.”
I scoffed, “Oh, really?”
“Yes.” She stepped forward. “I have proof. This was the original piece I submitted.” She tried to hand me her phone, but I ignored it.
“You can’t take responsibility even after all these years?”
“Josh, no. I swear––”
“It’s one thing to say you were inexperienced and desperate, willing to step on others to further your career—I could almost understand that pressure. But to straight out deny it? Come on.”
“I didn’t!” She held up her phone again as if it would say she’s innocent on the screen.
“My boss didn’t like what I wrote. He said it was boring and unprovocative.
He rewrote almost every word of the entire series but left my name on it since it was supposed to be written by the rookies’ peer.
We were the same age, and they thought it would be an interesting angle. ”
She waited for me to respond, but I still wasn’t sure I believed her.
“This,” she waved her phone, “was what I submitted. You can see the timestamps and the email conversation between me and him.” She stepped closer. “Please, just look.”
I had no reason to, but I caved and took her phone. She’d highlighted the three paragraphs about me. They were complimentary, talking about how I was a young star with serious potential, especially since I was being mentored by Olli Letang.
I scrolled through the email exchange, and she was telling the truth. Her boss didn’t like it and ignored her refusal to make the edits. She even asked for her name to be taken off.
Huh.
She was being honest.
She hadn’t written it.
That single paragraph haunted me for years. It infused so much doubt, fueling my darkest fears.
And it was slander written by a man who hadn’t even seen me play? Random words that I was slowly realizing were generalized and vague. Things you could say about any new player who wasn’t performing as expected. It only hurt so much because they hit my exact insecurities.
I handed it back to her, and her eyes locked on mine.
“I’m sorry, Josh. A few of the other players that were spotlighted called me out back then, and I apologized and explained as much as I could without getting myself or my boss in trouble.
I hoped no one else read or cared about it.
That if you did see it, you blew it off as some garbage by a new journalist.”
What was I supposed to say? She had proof, but it didn’t make the years of resentment suddenly disappear.
“Maybe I should have gone above him. Told his bosses what he was doing, but it was my first job. I didn’t know if it would all come back on me. If he’d get revenge and never give me an assignment again. Fire me. I––”
“I get it.” I mostly needed her to stop rambling. I was still processing, and she obviously felt horrible.
“There’s no good way to make it up to you, but I want to try.” She bent her knees, picking up the box again. “I’ve got snacks.”
She grinned as she handed it over to me before flipping open the top to reveal applesauce pouches, chocolate milk, protein shakes, and a variety of protein bars.
“And these.” She grabbed the bags and lifted one arm, “Apples, bananas, and oranges in here.” Then her right arm.
“Crackers, pretzels, and PB and J’s in here. ”
I nodded, unsure what to say. “Thank you, but you’ve seen the locker rooms and media rooms. They keep us pretty stocked.”
She passed the bags off to me. “But you like the cinnamon applesauce and lactose-free milk.” She pointed to the box.
“None of the protein bars have coconut, and all the fruit is organic. The crackers are low sodium, the pretzels are honey mustard flavor, and I put in grape jelly since I only saw strawberry and raspberry here.”
I took a closer look and realized she was right. These weren’t the basic items most facilities provided; these were specific to me. My favorites, with my dislikes avoided.
“How did you know?” I didn’t remember our first interview word for word, but I didn’t think we spoke about food, at least not to this degree.
“Research,” she smiled.
I narrowed my eyes. “You researched me?”
“Yes, it would have been really nice if you could have gone into your preferences at one time, but I pieced it all together.”
“I’ve mentioned all this before?”
“Yeah, either on social media or in past interviews.”
“And you watched all of those, then went and bought my favorites?”
She crossed her arms. “Don’t make me sound like a creep. I was trying to do something nice."
“Well, you did.” I was still in shock over how thoughtful it was.
And how wrong I was about her.
“Thank you.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re welcome.”
I nodded and took a step back. “I’ve got to get ready for practice.”
“Right, of course.” She nodded. “Have a good one.”
“Thanks.” I watched her turn and walk down the hall before pushing the door open and stepping back into the locker room.
“What’s that?” Schultz asked as I sat the snacks down.
“An apology.”
“Looks like groceries,” Hartman wandered over. “Did you order this?”
“No, it’s from Victoria.” I put the dry goods in one of the drawers of my locker and gathered the rest in a bag and moved to one of the fridges in the corner.
“She brought you snacks?” Schultz investigated the bags of crackers. “Why?”
“As an apology,” I repeated, but they were both watching me; in fact, several of the guys were. They were sort of involved in this since they joined in the media freeze, so I stopped and explained. “The article she wrote about me my rookie year wasn’t actually written by her.”
A few of them started to speak up, but I stopped them.
“She showed me proof. Her boss back then wanted something more provocative, so he rewrote it without her approval. A few of the other players called her out back then, and she explained and apologized. She hoped the rest of us just didn’t read the series.”
“You forgive her?” Tyson asked.
“Yeah.” It might take a little time for me to completely let go of all the mixed feelings I have, but I was ready to move on.
“Then so do we,” he glanced around the room. “Resume interviews.”
There were a few groans and some laughs, but soon everyone went back to doing their own thing.
“She knows you,” Hartman held up a cinnamon apple squeeze pack.
“She did her research,” I corrected. “Apparently a lot of it because I don’t remember when I last mentioned trying to reduce sodium or preferring honey mustard pretzels. Those were my go-to in college,” I smirked. “Unless she did a deep dive.”
“She’s a journalist. That’s literally her whole job.” Schultz opened a peanut butter chocolate protein bar.
“True, she’s got to be good at gathering information.” Hartman peeked into the box again and pulled out a banana.
“Those are mine,” I pointed out.
“And we supported you.” Schultz grinned with his mouth full. “So you can share.”
“Fine,” I grabbed a bag of crackers and opened them.
“Are you more surprised she apologized, or that she didn’t write that piece in the first place?” Schultz asked as we pulled on our gear.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it wasn’t her.
The interview went great, I thought. We were the same age and bonded over our careers just starting.
” I should have second-guessed the whole thing more than I did.
I should have reached out to her back then and asked for an explanation rather than just holding onto it.
“Well, I’m glad it’s all sorted. Now you can focus on having fun,” Schultz grinned.
“And blocking shots,” Hartman added.
I rolled my eyes and tied my skates.
I dragged my feet after practice, taking my time stretching and taking an ice bath before showering and changing. I was one of the last to leave the locker room, so I hoped I had planned it right.
The press room was nearly empty of players, and I spotted Victoria leaning against a wall. Before I could change my mind, I went straight to her.
“Hey.”
She jerked, like I’d surprised her, and lowered her phone. “Josh, hi.”
I glanced around. Cambrie was watching us, so I nodded my head toward the back of the room. “Can we talk? Off the record?”
“Sure.” She slid her phone into her back pocket, and we moved far enough away not to be overheard. “I really appreciate the effort you put into those snacks.”
Her eyes brightened. “Oh, it was nothing.”
“It wasn’t. It had to have been a lot of work, and I want you to know I appreciate it. You’ve proven you meant your apology, and I wanted to explain.”
“You don’t have to. That article––”
“Please?” I interrupted. “I want you to know.”
She nodded.
“I printed it and have it hanging in my apartment, the article.” She grimaced, but I continued. “It was a reminder that I’m never as good as I think. That I can’t get complacent, because there’s always someone better waiting to replace me.”
“Josh, I’m so sorry. I hate that my name was ever attached to anything so cruel.”
“I know.” I didn’t blame her, not anymore. “You interviewed me for two hours.” I reminded her, not knowing whether she remembered.
She bit her lip and nodded.
“I thought it went well.” I spend endless nights running our conversation through my head, trying to figure out how I’d gotten it so messed up. How I could leave feeling confident, only to read her words weeks later.
“It did.” She closed her eyes. “It really did.” She blinked up at me.
“You were kind and well-spoken and optimistic. You played well in practice.” She brushed her dark hair over her shoulder.
“To be honest, I forgot about it. Mostly because I wanted to forget about the stupid series and hoped if enough time passed, all the players would too. But that’s why you avoided me at the Olympics? ”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
She frowned. “I didn’t.”
Her admission surprised me. I thought she'd at least play it up like she had tried.
“To be fair, I was really focused on the women's teams. There were enough of us there that I sort of called dibs and let my colleagues work with you guys. Most of the interviews I got with the guys happened during meals and hanging out. I didn’t really seek them out.”
That made some sense. There were reporters everywhere you turned, and I didn’t exactly notice her not interviewing me either.
“Then why aren't you working with the women's teams now?”
Her smile slipped away. “It got reassigned when my bosses found out there’d be more coverage on them.”
“Reassigned to him?” I pointed to a screen in the corner that was showing the East’s captain and an overly tanned guy I sort of recognized. Thursday night football, maybe?
“Yes,” she bit out after giving the TV the briefest glance. “I want to make it up to you. I can write a glowing review of your performance during the tournament.”
“Only if it’s the truth,” I countered.
She looked up at me with a small smile. “It is.”