Chapter 2 The Jacksonville Manatees
The Jacksonville Manatees
It was well known across the league that Florida was the worst place to live if you were a professional hockey player.
A majority of Manatees fans were Florida implants from the North and Midwest. A mix of primarily New Yorkers, people from Jersey, and New Englanders dominated the hockey fan base down here.
Throw in the retired snowbirds from the Midwest and you’ve got yourself a sold-out stadium.
Fletcher Armstrong hated Florida.
He didn’t have much choice in where he lived. Not when his dad and grandfather were both star centers for the Manatees for most of their NHL careers. Being the grandson of William “Bubba” Armstrong and the son of Sean Armstrong meant Fletcher was destined to wear orange and blue on the ice.
After his father retired from the NHL a year before Fletcher joined, Sean and his fellow retired teammate Henri Merchaun founded the Little Manatees Foundation—a faith-based charity that taught kids how to play hockey while “building disciples of Christ,” a motto that had been ingrained into Fletcher’s mind ever since his father worked in conjunction with their church to start the organization a few years ago.
It wasn’t the organization that was the issue. In fact, Fletcher was proud to spend his summers working with the kids and providing outreach to the Jacksonville community.
It was more the lack of freedom Fletcher had. His family kept him on a tight leash. His dad played hockey. His grandfather played hockey. His uncles all played hockey. If Fletcher had asked to play soccer, his parents would probably have had a heart attack.
Fortunately for the Armstrongs, Fletcher really liked hockey. He was a decent center and one of the fastest skaters in the league. He’d been given skates and a stick the moment he could walk. The ice was his happy place.
His favorite part of playing, though, was meeting the other players and kicking their asses.
He and his younger sister Lauren both proudly inherited a strong sense of competitiveness from their parents.
His mom was a retired professional ice skater with a handful of Olympic gold medals to her name, and Lauren was a junior on her school’s varsity cheer team.
She was also an incredible figure skater just like their mom.
They were the epitome of a perfect, ice-loving family, which was kind of ironic considering they lived in the hottest place on Earth.
Fletcher didn’t have too many heroes growing up. To him, they were all subpar in comparison to his dad. How could he idolize anyone if they couldn’t even measure up to an Armstrong?
While other young hockey players had their favorite NHL legends to look up to, Fletcher was busy scoping out the competition.
He had insight on just about all the most desired potential recruits.
At juniors, he would keep track of the best players.
Learn their plays. Memorize their faces.
Fletcher didn’t look up to the best. He was going to do everything in his power to be the best, which meant knowing his opponents and finding their weaknesses.
So, when he was given the opportunity to get to know the competition on a more personal level, he hopped on a plane immediately. In a matter of hours, Fletcher was ditching the orange and blue for white and navy.
Everyone knew Seattle was the team to beat.
Yuiry Pancek had led his team to victory season after season.
His dad despised the man on account of losing the cup to the Seaporters two years in a row.
You could only imagine the tongue-lashing Fletcher had received upon breaking the news to his dad.
A ‘disappointment’ and a ‘disloyal’ son he had been told.
But Fletcher was never going to play to his full potential if he stayed in Florida.
How was he supposed to make his dad proud if he had no room to grow?
Fletcher was finally going to have a chance to show the world that he was more than just the Armstrong name. He finally had something that he could call his own. A new city. A new team. Finally, he had a life of his own.
That wasn’t the only reason why he was ecstatic to be boots down in Seattle.
Taylor Piers was his biggest competition and now his strongest chance to become the best version of himself.
Piers was probably the best player the league had seen in decades.
Even Fletcher could admit it. A fiery defenseman who put even the most notable unofficial enforcers in NHL history to shame.
He’d been keeping tabs on this kid for years and looked forward to sharing the ice with him any chance he’d get.
Anyone well-versed in the hockey world knew Piers was unstoppable and fiercely loyal to his team.
He led his junior’s team to victory twice as captain in Nationals and was one of the youngest ever junior Olympics champions.
Piers served as his wonderwall for years, pushing Fletcher to get better.
If he could play like Piers, he would be known for more than just his family’s legacy.
He also admired how Piers was so unapologetic himself in some of the interviews he’d find himself watching repeatedly, mentally cataloging his witty replies and snarky comments he made about other players.
He wasn’t afraid to stir the pot, and he always put his money where his mouth was.
The sin bin was practically the guy’s second home.
By the time he was fourteen, he had been eyed by every top NHL team.
Fletcher wished he could have even an ounce of his confidence on the ice. He handled the stick like it was an extension of himself. He hoped that playing alongside him would encourage him to work hard enough to keep up with Piers.
Taylor Piers would be his one-way ticket to cementing himself as one of the greatest NHL players of all time.