Page 16 of Until He Scores

TheMountaineersplayers,like every other team I’d played for, would be sizing me up today. They’d look for any weaknesses I might have, besides the bummed knee, and exploit them. Even if I was their coach and not a threat. AHL players all hungered for the same thing. An NHL contract, or like some, counted down the days until their call up came. They played to be seen, whereas I’d been a household name for years. While my light slowly dimmed due to age and years on the ice, they were just starting out. Perhaps my time here was all about showcasing them.

If that turned out to be the case, I’d be their biggest supporter and fan. I’d make sure each of them got that spotlight.

Pushing out of my truck, I took a second to gather myself before opening the back passenger door to grab my gear from the backseat then stopped myself. After almost thirty years of reaching for my gear, I didn’t need it anymore. A pang of sadness washed over me. I didn’t know how long I stood there reconciling the fact I didn’t have to dress out anymore. Even as I watched the team file in, that excitement I always felt being on the ice, filled me. Felt like the first day of training all over again. Kind of enjoyed the anticipation, to be honest, at least it pulled me out of the morose miasma I’d trapped myself in. The nervous little wiggle in my stomach reminded me even if I wasn’t on the ice, I still belonged on the team.

As I strode into the building, three men waited off to the side. I knew one of them, Dr. Gerald Whitefield, team doctor. The other two men I’d yet to meet. Gerald stepped forward, extending his hand as he welcomed me. “Thierry, you made it. Welcome to the team.” Once I shook his hand, he motioned to the men next to him. “This is our orthopedic surgeon Dr. Matthew Driver and our Head of Athletic training, Mr. Byron James.”

We each shook hands and exchanged pleasantries then started for the training room across from the locker room. “Feels good being back.” The smell of body odor, cleaning solvent, and leather along with tape and a sundry of other items permeated the area.Just like old times.

Excitement bubbled inside of me.

Getting back out there, even if I wasn’t on the ice lit a fire in me. I hadn’t lost the spark like I feared. It was still there, just in a different form. I hoped, once I’d been cleared by Doc Jay, I could strap on my skates and show the guys what I wanted, not just shout orders at them. Still, that was a long way out.

Meanwhile, I’d do whatever it took to get out on the ice just to feel the blades beneath my feet.

Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was to hang up my skates.

Byron pushed open the door to the training room and held it for us. “We wanted to take a moment with you, to check in. We all know how difficult the decision to retire can be, especially after what appeared to be such an innocuous injury. How are your repairs healing? Is there anything you’re concerned about? What about rehab?” He motioned for me to sit on the table. “Did Dr. Jay set you up with a sports rehab clinic to relearn how to walk?”

I inclined my chin, never once feeling like their cautious approach was anything but that. Though, there were some in the league who played injured until they couldn’t. That led to far more damage and most times, caused career ending surgeries or assessments. My knee was the first major injury I’d ever suffered on or off the ice besides the concussions. I guess I should count myself lucky. “The knee is progressing.” That sounded stupid. “What I mean is, I knew when I went to Dr. Jay, I’d have to start over from the very beginning. The joint is stiff, but stable. WouldI love to get back on the ice? Definitely. Did I make the right choice to retire…”

“If it makes you feel better,” Dr. Driver said. “I haven’t met a player who was ever ready to retire. Their bodies made that choice for them. Whether by not being able to keep up and their reflexes slowed, or in your case, injury. Never play the “why me,” game. Those scenarios will send you down a dark rabbit hole you’ll never get out of.”

“I thought about getting a therapist.” Okay, so I only gave it a half-hearted thought last night, before I fell asleep. “Maybe try some holistic medicine, too. I want to be in the game, in whatever role, for as long as possible.” I shrugged. “My father even got me an appointment with his acupuncturist.”

The men chuckled.

“Acupuncture has its benefits,” Dr. Driver said. “A therapist will set your mind right, leaving you to concentrate on your rehab. While acupuncture treats your nervous system, helping to release beneficial healing biochemicals into the spinal cord, muscles, and brain.”

I nodded, already hearing the same from my father. “I know coaching will be different, and I won’t always need to be on the ice, however I’d like to get to a point in my recovery where I can be out there with the guys.”

A quick knock came at the door before Coach Drake—Alexander Drake, former PittsburghHawksforward, stepped into the space. He wore a pair of team sweats, trainers and aMountaineerpullover. Fully acclimated into the upper management for the team. He even had the corporate haircut, including the side part, while my hair… Well, shaggy would always be my thing. “The man of the hour has arrived. Thierry Thomas.” I wasn’t sure if I was picking up his snideness or if the man was genuinely happy to have me there. “How’s the knee? Still giving you problems?”

If I sat too long? Stiff. Once I moved around, great. Though if I did too much during the day, it would ache like a sore tooth. I didn’t think it had anything to do with the injury, per se. More so with the fact I was inactive. I was used to working out, running, and skating every day for almost thirty years. After the injury, everything changed or came to a halt completely. My new regimen used different muscle groups made to accommodate the new prosthetic in my leg. “You know...” I shrugged. “Aches here and there. Tightness. Common issues. Mostly because I’m not doing anything but sitting. Guess knee replacement does that to a person. So, I go to PT, get a rubdown, and for the rest of the day, I elevate, alternating between ice and heat therapy. The usual.”

Mr. James and Dr. Driver exchanged looks, like neither of them could believe I had done little more than what I’d explained. Again, I wasn’t holding myself back. This was all Dr. Jay, and him wanting me to have a quality life and keep my leg. I agreed with him. Losing the leg would have been worse.

“Well, if you’d like we could reevaluate your PT and add in exercises to get you where you want to be. We’ll even loop Dr. Jay into the conversation,” Dr. Driver stated.

“That sounds great,” I replied, then glanced at Coach Drake. “For what it’s worth, I don’t want your job. I’d have rather die on that ice than been forced into medical retirement like I have. I gave my life to hockey. Up until now, the game has been good to me too. I hope you’ll give me the chance to prove just how much I want to be here.”

Alexander stared at me. “You’re talking to me like you’re still a player and not a coach.”

I shrugged. “In some ways, I haven’t shed the persona. What I can say is this; I’ll help you build the best damn team possible and take you to a championship. I know how to get there and what it takes.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this part, though?” He exhaled. “You’re one of the best damn players we had in the NHL. You won’t be able to do this for the guys. They’ll have to do it for you.”

“Then I’ll be their rutter, and they’ll be my legs,” I answered. “Together we’ll be unstoppable.”

I left the training room after our meeting and went straight to the locker room. Most of the guys were already on the ice while some lingered. None of them said a word to me as I sat down at the open locker where my name was taped. I didn’t pay them any mind as I changed into a pair of trainer sweats and a coach hoodie with my name on it. Sure as hell was different than a sweater and skates. Once I was ready, I met back up with Coach to go over a few things while the guys warmed up before practice.

“Where are my manners,” I said, holding my hand out to Coach Drake. He stared at me for a moment then shook my hand. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I’m sure there were other more qualified men for this job.”

“There were a few,” he admitted. “However, you’ve got that dog in you. There’s a hunger clawing at your belly they didn’t have. That’s what I want. The technical stuff, the things you can’t learn from being on the ice will come later. Right now, we need a defense that holds the line. That’s something you can do. All day. Every day.”

Pride welled within me. I spent years at home and abroad honing my skills, learning to be the best defender I could be. If I could impart that wisdom on the guys, so be it. “Thank you.”

“As for the knee,” he added, “Don’t push too hard. My dad had one last year. Told physical therapy they were a bunch of quacks, and he was going to do the work on his own. Two weeks after the surgery he was back in the hospital, needing to undergo the same surgery again.”

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