Page 12 of One Good Puck (Denver Bashers #5)

Gavin

“ C oach Porter, congrats on the win tonight,” one of the reporters in the press room says. “How does your team’s performance make you feel about heading into the rest of the season?”

“I feel good,” I say. “I saw some impressive teamwork and skill out there tonight.”

“You’re coming into this season as Stanley Cup champions. Do you feel any added pressure to perform to a higher level because of it, even during preseason?” a different reporter asks.

“Of course. I know the players feel it too. As thrilling as it was to win the Stanley Cup, there’s an expectation that comes with it. People expect us to play perfectly every time. That’s just not possible. All we can do is play hard and play our best every single time we hit the ice.”

“A strong showing in the preseason doesn’t always mean a strong showing in the regular season,” someone else says.

I wait for the reporter to say more, but he doesn’t. This reporter always says some smart-ass comment to try and get a rise out of me during post-game press. He just wants a clip of me losing my shit so he can go viral.

I look at him, annoyed. “Did you have a question or just a comment?”

Before he can answer, a different reporter speaks up.

“Coach Porter, what prompted the decision to put Ryker St. George on the second line? He was a consistent fourth-line player last season when he played for Detroit.”

“His performance during training camp showed me that he’s capable of being on the second line,” I say. “He played well tonight. It’s clear he earned his spot.”

“Do you regret getting rid of McCoy, who’s a younger, better player, so you could make room on the roster for St. George?” the smart ass reporter asks.

“That’s not at all what happened. Don’t report things that aren’t true,” I say.

“Can you explain what happened then?”

I clench my jaw, pissed. “It was in the press release we sent out.”

“But not everyone saw that. I think it would be helpful if you addressed it now.”

“McCoy lost his spot on the team because he committed a crime. St. George joined the team because we had an open spot. Those are two completely separate instances, unrelated to each other. For you to try to connect the two is pointless. And irresponsible reporting.”

“Do you think you made the right call?” another reporter asks. “According to the latest sports news reports, it’s rumored that McCoy might get picked up by another team in the league.”

I grit my teeth, pissed that anyone would ever let that scumbag play for their team.

But this happens all the time in professional sports.

Some teams don’t care about the character of a player if they’re good.

It’s honestly disgusting. They’d let a psychopath play for them as long as they scored goals.

“I made the right call.” My tone is hard.

“But what if?—”

“I want to make this very clear to you all,” I say, cutting him off. “I don’t care how good you are at hockey. If you’re a disgusting human being, I don’t want you on my team.”

A few more reporters start to speak up, but I’m too irritated to answer any follow-up questions. I walk out of the press room and into my office.

I’m certain I’m going to catch hell from Alan once he hears what I said during the post-game press. Whatever.

I start going over footage from tonight’s game when my phone rings. It’s Alan.

I sigh and contemplate not answering, but he’ll just keep at it till I acknowledge him.

I answer the call.

“What was with that little outburst during post-game press?” he asks.

I roll my eyes, thankful he can’t see my face. “I wouldn’t call that an outburst.”

“You were pissed, Gavin. It was pretty obvious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? That reporter was being a jerk asking those questions about McCoy.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Alan. You get pissed too when reporters hound you about stuff that isn’t their business.”

He lets out a heavy breath, laced with frustration. “Fair. But come on, this was a preseason game. You know better than to get that worked up this early on.”

“If the reporters would stick to asking questions about the game, I wouldn’t have a problem. ”

There’s a long pause on his end of the line. “Gavin, you’re the reason for this. If you hadn’t wanted to get rid of McCoy in the first place, you wouldn’t be fielding obnoxious questions from reporters about it.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re putting this on me?”

“I’m just saying. We wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t thrown a hissy fit about some stupid thing McCoy did in his personal life.”

Rage slingshots through me. This fucking guy.

In the years that I’ve coached the Bashers, I’ve never had a problem with Alan. He’s always been professional. And I respect the work he’s done recruiting the best players to our team and securing the most beneficial trades for us.

Until this mess with McCoy.

I knew Alan wasn’t happy when I gave him the ultimatum about getting rid of McCoy. But now I know exactly where his line in the sand is.

Alan is on McCoy’s side. He doesn’t give a fuck that McCoy is a trash human being. All he cares about is winning, no matter the cost. Even if the cost is human decency.

“You’re a real piece of work, Alan. You know that?” I bite.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re fine with supporting a goddamn predator. Anything to win, right?”

He’s quiet for a long second. “Watch yourself, Gavin. You’re on thin ice.”

I hang up and toss my phone on my desk. When I look up, Ryker is standing in the open doorway of my office, eyes wide, his hand raised like he was just about to knock.

He clears his throat. “Sorry, I, uh…didn’t realize you were on the phone.”

I stand up. “It’s fine. Come in.”

He hesitates for a second before walking into my office. I gesture to the chair in front of my desk for him to sit. I sit down too.

He tugs at the collar of his dress shirt, then pulls at the lapel of his suit jacket, clearly uneasy.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” I say. “I shouldn’t have my door open if I’m going to argue on the phone.”

“We’ve all been there.” A second later, his expression turns serious. “That was about McCoy, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I know you don’t need my approval or anything. I’m just some old guy playing on your team. But I respect you for getting rid of him. And not just because losing him left a spot open for me.” He clears his throat. “Not a lot of coaches would do what you did. You’re a stand-up guy.”

I’m quiet for a second, encouraged by what he’s said.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I shake my head. “I’m glad you did. It means a lot. Thank you.”

He nods. “I just wanted to tell you thanks for playing me tonight. And see if there’s anything I can improve on.”

I lean back in my chair. “We’re only one preseason game in.”

“Yeah, but I want to play my best for this team. I want to know what else I should be doing to ensure that.”

I look at Ryker, impressed by the initiative he’s taking.

I start to chuckle.

“What?” he asks.

“Most of the younger guys on the team would never approach me this early, asking what they can do to be better. That’s such a mature, older guy thing to do.”

He chuckles and runs a hand through his damp hair. He clears his throat. “I’m just grateful to be playing for the best team in the league. Never thought I’d be here at my age.”

“You were solid tonight. Clean and quick with your passes. You were faster than a lot of the younger guys. Your edges need some work, though. I notice you were a little slow on some of your transitions.”

“I’ll work on that.”

“Rest and recovery are the most important things for you right now,” I say.

“Get plenty of sleep tonight. Eat enough, drink way more water than you think you need. Your bounce-back isn’t going to be as quick as the younger guys, so you need to give yourself plenty of time to recover. And don’t overtrain.”

He nods. “Absolutely. I’ll do all that.”

He stands up and thanks me before walking out the door. I grab my things and get ready to head home, the tension from my argument with Alan lingering at the back of my mind. But then I think about what Ryker said. How I have his support and the support of the rest of my players.

That counts more than anything I could ever get from Alan.