Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
So when he calls on the first player to stand and introduce himself to his new team, my gut tightens in anticipation of shit that might start flying.
It only takes five players to know that Matt Keller has made a monumental mistake in requiring this type of participation. The first five players were reticent and withdrawn. They offered basic facts about themselves, a faux amount of excitement to be on the team, and refused to talk about their feelings, as is their right.
Looking around the room periodically, it’s clear no one wants to be here listening to this. As happens over time with teams, these men will get to know one another. They’ll develop solid friendships with everyone and closer friendships with a few. Some might even discuss their feelings down the road.
But today is not that day.
Coach Keller prides himself on having memorized the entire roster and can identify every player on sight. I cannot do that yet, but within a few days, I’ll have all the names down.
When Keller calls on Stone Dumelin, he’s a player I clearly recognize from our discussion during that first meeting after I arrived in Pittsburgh. His brother was on the plane, and I’d looked them both up as it truly is a tragic circumstance.
Everyone in the room, probably except Keller, can tell by the expression on Stone’s face that he’d rather float in a pool of lava than stand in front of his new team and talk about how he came to be here.
Still, he dutifully introduces himself. “I’m Stone Dumelin. I play left wing, and I came up from the Cleveland Badgers.”
Keller has his arms folded across his chest, and he nods along with Stone. “And what do you think your driving force is to be here?”
I duck my head and wince. That has to be the dumbest question on the face of the earth.
I twist in my seat to look at Stone two rows back and to my right.
Fury is etched upon his face. “I’d say the driving force is the fact that my brother was on the plane. His death gave me a shot to come back into the big leagues. Fortuitous, some would say. Don’t you think?”
There are a few coughs and some murmurs of disbelief at the way Stone attacked his head coach. Frankly, Keller had it coming.
My head whips back to look at Coach Keller, and his face drains of color. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I got you confused with someone else, Stone.”
My head drops again in mortification for not only Stone but this entire team. How the fuck could Keller forget that Stone’s brother was on the plane?
I glance back at Stone, and I can see he has not accepted Keller’s apology. He sinks down into his chair and glares at the head coach.
Keller stammers and looks around the room trying to figure out who he should call on next. If he had a lick of sense, he would shut this shit down and get them out on the ice.
But I’m starting to understand that Keller wants to do things the way he wants to do them, and he’s not looking at the bigger picture. I’m also concerned because he’s forcing something on these players that is not being well received, and it’s going to ding their respect for him.
Keller locks eyes with a player in the first row to my left.
Coen Highsmith.
One of three players who were not on the plane, and the leading scorer for the team up until the crash. Keller stares at him as if he’s a saving grace and eagerly says, “Highsmith… stand up and tell the team about yourself.”
I don’t know much about Coen Highsmith. He’s young and brash, but so are most players in this league. Got a bit of an ego, but I don’t know if it’s healthy. I expect him to stand up and maybe tell a joke to try to lighten the mood or even brag about himself.
He does neither. Instead, he remains seated, hands clasped on the table flipped over his lap. He slouches in the seat, and at first I don’t think he’s going to say anything, but then he drawls, “I think everyone here knows who I am. One of the lucky three.”
And he says nothing else. Keller tries to wait him out, looking at him expectantly, almost begging with his eyes for him to say more.
Coen glares back at the coach.
I have to say that behavior shocks me from the guy who is known as a fairly easygoing player. Along with his brashness and ego and cocky attitude, he’s known to be a fun-loving sort.
Right now, he looks pissed. Keller finally gets the hint and moves on.
Before Keller can call on anyone else, from the corner of my eye, a player stands in the fourth row, and I recognize him as Gage Heyward. The well-respected veteran who retired at the end of last season. He’s the man Callum wanted to be the fount of wisdom for this team.