Chapter 3
Robbie
September weather in Northern Michigan is the best. It’s warm enough that I can still wear shorts and a polo and even go out on the water, but at night it gets cold enough that I can start a bonfire like the one tonight. Some teammates that I consider close friends are with me at my parents’ cabin, enjoying the last night of freedom before training camp starts tomorrow.
“Yo, captain! When are you gonna retire?” Ashton, the team’s hot-headed forward, yells from the deck as he’s bringing a cooler to us by the fire pit.
“Who said anything about retiring?” I mock glare at him.
He rolls his eyes and smirks. Bastard. “Come on, you know you’re getting old. Are you gonna let any of us get a chance at captainship?”
“I think you mean captaincy, and no, I won’t,” I say, smirking back.
I’ve been the captain of the AHL Grand Marquee Manticores for the last five years. As the number one draft pick fourteen years ago, fresh out of high school, I spent a couple of years with Chicago’s AHL team before getting called up to the NHL. After two years there, a trade to Detroit was in the cards. I was having my best year here in my home state, and everyone said I had so much potential. Right as we made it to the playoffs that year, I tore my ACL and had to sit out for the rest of that season. The team didn’t win the Stanley Cup, but I don’t think they blamed me, either. There was just a lot going on that season and everyone was a bit sloppy.
After my recovery, I had a pretty bad season and with my contract coming to an end and was sent down to the AHL team. I couldn’t complain much though, as the Manticores played in my home town which meant I got to see my huge family all the time. I improved a lot with the team, so much so that I got called up to the NHL quite often. But after another ACL injury followed by a gruesome recovery, it was pretty clear that I wasn’t going to be able to play at the same level as I had before. Five years ago I was offered the captain position and that really solidified it for me. I would never play in the NHL again, but I’ve made my peace with it.
“What about that nonprofit organization you and Alex were talking about?” Elias contributes. “I thought you were considering that.”
I sigh. Of course my best friend would know exactly what’s on my mind. Ever since Eli got acquired from Finland two years ago, he and I have been really close. He’s an exceptional goalie and, with his track record, he’ll be called up to the NHL any day now.
“I don’t know, man. It sounds amazing, and you know there’s nothing I’d love more than to coach youth hockey and volunteer,” I say.
“But?” he asks pointedly.
“But it sounds like a lot of work to start a nonprofit from the ground up. I wouldn’t have time for something like that unless I truly retired.”
Jordan whistles. “Damn, are you seriously considering it?”
“Maybe,” I say, adding another log to the fire. “Probably not this year though, I need to be here for Elias’ last AHL season. We all know he’s moving onto bigger and better things.” I smile at my best friend and give him an affectionate head pat. He just gives me a deadpan look, but my smile is so infectious he can’t help but grin back.
“We’ll see. I haven’t heard anything, and last time I checked, our NHL team has two very good goaltenders. Unless one gets injured or something, I probably won’t get called up,” he says with a small pout.
“Nah, you’re too good to stay down here with us,” Ashton says as he sits in a camping chair and starts chugging a beer. What a caveman.
“How can you possibly throw them back like that and not feel like shit at training?” Jordan asks him with a disgusted look on his face.
Ashton lets out a loud burp, pats his abs and gives Jordan a look of pure innocence. “Well, you see, Grandpa, I’m 25 and have my whole life ahead of me, unlike you three ancient fossils.” He grins and ducks out of the way as I throw an empty beer can at his head.
“Don’t put me in the same box as these two, I’m still in my twenties,” Elias supplies.
“Yeah, late twenties. My dude, you’re almost over the hill,” Ashton says with a head shake.
“What does that mean? ‘Over the hill’?” Elias asks, confusion written all over his face. Sometimes we forget there’s a language barrier between us.
“It means you’re past your prime. Old. Ancient,” Jordan explains sourly.
“Fuck off, Ash, I am not ‘over the hill,’” Elias says with a small Finnish accent. He doesn’t usually speak with an accent, but it comes out sometimes when he gets angry. And if he’s really pissed, he’ll start swearing in Finnish.
We all take a seat in our camping chairs and the three of them continue bickering. My mind is back on my conversation with Alex and how much of a compelling argument he made for starting the nonprofit together. We went to high school together and basically grew up playing hockey. He was the captain of the Manticores when I got sent down, and when he got traded to Quebec, I took over the position.
Alex retired last year and moved back to Grand Marquee with his wife, Malia. I’ve gotten to hang out with them this past summer and he mentioned that he wants to start an organization that focuses on youth hockey and helping those who can’t afford equipment and lessons. It sounds like the perfect job for me. So, am I seriously considering this? Retirement?
“Pass me another beer, Grandpa.” Ash’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
“You need to respect your elders, young man.” I point at Ashton with a piece of wood as I feed the fire some more. “And trust me, you don’t want to be hungover for the game tomorrow.”
“Eh, it’s just training camp, we have another month before the season officially starts,” he says.
Jordan scoffs. “Man, you haven’t been here as long as we have. Now is the time for you to show your skills, when the NHL will actually let us play in the pre-season games. Go out there, show them you can score, make plays, show them all that potential we know you have. Every little thing counts, especially what you’re putting in your body.”
Jordan, our defenseman, is right. He knows more than any of us how important this time in the offseason is. He spends most of his time training and analyzing hockey, bettering himself in the hopes he’ll get called up more often.
Ashton considers the advice for a moment, and before he can open his fifth beer, Elias snatches it from his hand and puts it back in the cooler. We might be a bunch of jocks, but we know how to look out for each other.