Page 77 of The Save

I sighed. “Yeah.”

Kowalski sipped his coffee. “Have you gotten any interest?”

I shook my head. “No. Seems like nobody is very compelled by my numbers.”

He gave me a knowing smile. “Are you compelled?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. It was the truth. It wasn’t just about Chase. Or Rob. Or any one player I’d come to care about. It was the numbers. The patterns. The way they kept pulling at me like thread I couldn’t stop unraveling.

Thousands of players aging out every year, most of them never stepping onto competitive ice again. The data was right there—league drop-offs, age curves, training plateaus. They weren’t just figures on a page. They were lives. Futures. Potential that didn’t vanish just because a draft didn’t go their way. Maybe no one else cared, but I did.

“Isn’t the purpose of our work to do good? To make changes?” I shook my head. “I don’t understand why nobody’s even willing to try.”

He studied me for a moment, then set his coffee cup down. “I was first published when I was a grad student. I had a paper rejected three times. Fourth time, a small analytics journal picked it up. I was studying voting trends in rural municipalities. Pretty dry stuff, but I had a theory no one else thought had legs.”

“What was it?”

“That public trust was more strongly tied to community sports funding than infrastructure spending.” Kowalski gave a modest shrug. “Took me a while to convince anyone. But when I did, it changed how some of those towns shaped their budgets. Point is—you don’t always know what your work will become when you start. Sometimes the world just needs a little time to catch up.”

He gestured toward my pile of papers. “If you believe you’ve got something here, you could try pitching it as an independent research project. For credit.”

My eyes widened. “Is that a possibility?”

Kowalski picked up his coffee cup. “Maddie, what do you think you’d be doing at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar? Running basic problem sets? You’d be choosing an area of study, contributing something new to the field. This isn’t so different.”

I stared at him. “But this isn’t pure math.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s applied. It’s structural. And it’s got real-world implications. You’re using analytics to solve a problem with socioeconomic fallout. That’s academic gold if you frame it correctly.”

My mind spun. “So who would I propose this to?”

“Lamont would have to endorse it, but you already have a connection there.” Kowalski said. “If the proposal’s solid and you’ve got faculty support from both departments—math and athletics—you could make a strong case.”

My heart picked up speed. What would I make a strong case for? The numbers? The idea? “You’d support something like this?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “I don’t make a habit of backing bad ideas. And you’re not in the habit of having them. You’d need a timeline. Deliverables. A clear objective for the league and measurable outcomes.”

“I told you, nobody was interested in expanding their programming or offering a league for this age group. I wouldn’t?—”

“You have an ice arena here don’t you? Seems to sit empty much of the time.” Kowalski stepped back, straightening his jacket. “I’d be glad to look over your proposal if you’d like. When it’s ready.” He gave a small nod, then turned and walked toward the glass doors.

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Maddie,

Vancouver is beautiful. I’m staying with my friend Turtle and his wife. (Don’t ask how he got that name.) They’re expecting their first baby. Kind of wild to talk with him about becoming a dad. Rob was talking about Sharla expecting a baby in the fall, and all I could think was they seem so young. Then I realized I’m barely a couple of years older and felt like a poser. (Watch out. Graduation ages you.)

The idea of having a family has always been a tough one for me. I never thought I’d want kids. Or to get married, even. I know, strange, considering what good examples I had of an excellent relationship.

But our conversations, as they always do, made me think. For a couple of years now, I’ve wondered what I have to offer the world (besides killer abs. You’re welcome). I wish I had a little of your confidence.

Chase

P.S. I think about you opening the door in only a T-shirt at least once a week.

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