Page 29 of Hockey 101

Our defence sucked last year, so it’s great to have someone new and good, she declares.

As soon as the game is over—a 4-2 win over St. Sigfrid—I leave Emily and head down to rink level. I spot two guys carting a video camera and tripod disappear down a hallway, and I rush to keep up. They’re arguing and don’t even notice me.

Don’t go all fucking artsy on me, says the short, stocky one, who is clearly in charge. I just want straight-up edits, not seizure-inducing flashes and cuts.

It makes the game more exciting, whines the thin guy with glasses.

Hockey is exciting enough without any doodads.

Exactly my reporting philosophy.

Jacob? I ask.

They both whirl around in surprise.

Yeah? the shorter one acknowledges with suspicion.

I adopt my most charming smile. I’m Andy Robson. We’ve been trading emails.

Recognition dawns, and his lip curls. Oh, you. What part of ‘I’m not interested’ do you not understand? Jacob turns away and motions towards a small room with a couple of monitors. Alex, can you start uploading the game film?

Alex is busy gaping, wrongly categorizing me as some desperate woman with a crush on Jacob. Being the sports editor is a non-stop rollercoaster of humiliation.

But I’m determined. Jacob Johnson is the guy that Mats recommended. After a fruitless email exchange, I’m here to convince him in person.

How did you even find me? he asks.

I sniff. Please. It’s a journalistic skill.

Some might call it stalking, but you do you.

Alex has finally disappeared into the video room, so I switch to the more important topic. You haven’t given me a real reason why you won’t write the game stories.

Look, there must be dozens of students who are dying to cover hockey. He pushes a hand through his thick, dark hair. He looks very unfriendly, but I assume that’s not his natural expression.

Yes, but they’ll all churn out the same kind of pieces. I’d like to upgrade the hockey coverage, and you are exactly the right person for that.

I’ve done all the reading that Jack and Mats suggested and found sports stories that are funny, educational, inspiring—so much better than I expected sports stories to be. Now I have a real goal: to elevate our sports coverage at the Messenger. Sure, I could find someone on staff who can cover hockey as it’s always been done. But Jacob helps with stats and game film for the Mustangs, so he understands the minutiae of the game. He even knows hockey analytics, which I’ve learned are statistical insights.

Jacob scowls. How can you say that? You’ve never even seen anything I’ve written.

It’s not about writing, it’s about knowledge. You understand hockey analytics and you have access to game films. Anything you write will be far more insightful than any regular reporter. I follow him to the entrance of the video room. Besides, Mats said you’ve always wanted to be a sports reporter. So, explain why you won’t at least try.

I don’t want to be a sports writer for ye olde newspaper. I was thinking video, like everyone else who’s not still living in the nineteenth century, he snaps.

Oh, burn, I say. Well, you can join the Monarch College television station. Oh, wait, it doesn’t exist.

Of course, we do have people producing videos for the college social media accounts, but those jobs only go to people who are highly photogenic and typically Minnesotan. Neither Jacob nor I could make the cut.

Jacob acts disinterested as he rifles through equipment, but I can tell he’s tempted. Another valuable journalistic skill is being able to distinguish a hard no from one that calls for more persuasion.

He lowers his voice. Okay, I’m not sure why Mats didn’t tell you this part, but…I’m not a good writer. He studies the floor as if our shoes are fascinating.

Don’t worry. I’m an excellent editor. If you get the hockey part right, I can do the rest.

Instead of looking relieved, Jacob scowls at me. Oh, for fuck’s sake, I can’t do it. I’m dyslexic.

Oh, this explains why he’s so prickly. Obviously he’s sensitive about this, so I tread gently. Well, how does your dyslexia manifest?

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