Page 79 of Hockey 101

Andy, something important has come to my attention.

What is it? I ask impatiently.

One essential detail. His dramatic pauses are beyond irritating, but complaining will only prolong this. He’s still smiling. I swallow uneasily.

When I discovered you and Jack Sinclair making out downstairs, you neglected to mention he’s a member of the varsity hockey team. His prim tone sounds like a scandalized Victorian parent.

The newsroom is deadly quiet—nobody is even pretending to work now. The words making out certainly caught everyone’s attention. I’ve taken a ton of crap from Bryce this year, but this is beyond comprehension.

Discovered? We were in the middle of the lobby, Bryce. Besides, how is my personal life any of your business? I manage to keep my voice calm even though I’m furious.

Is he actually your boyfriend? Or just some hookup? Bryce leans back with his arms crossed nonchalantly behind his head. He’s acting as if he doesn’t care what the answer is, but he’s watching me intently.

Are you serious? Are you trying to confirm a story for your new gossip column? I have actual work to do here, so stop wasting my time. I rise, but he motions for me to stay.

The fact that you refuse to answer my question proves you understand the issue perfectly. As the sports editor, you’re in a conflict of interest.

I hiss, You must be joking. My relationship with Jack in no way impacts my reporting. Besides, I’m not even writing the hockey stories, I only edit them.

So it is a relationship, then. Bryce nods slowly. That’s definitely a problem. Aside from the fact that editors have multiple ways to affect the interpretation of a final story, you write profiles on athletes, he says.

And I’ve never written one on Jack. Come on, Bryce, this isn’t the Washington Post, it’s a student newspaper at a small college! It would be more unusual if we didn’t have connections to anyone in our stories. My voice rises as I try to keep my anger in check. This argument makes zero sense. Show me a single example of favouritism in my stories. One.

It’s not the stories per se, rather their priority and positioning. Men’s hockey stories lead off all your sports coverage, he insists.

Unable to remain still, I jump up from my chair. This is insane. You know that hockey—specifically men’s hockey—is the number one sport at Monarch. The men’s hockey stories get the most page reads. Of course I lead with hockey, just like every sports editor in the entire history of the Messenger.

Bryce rises to his feet as well, but maintains his smug composure as we face off. He’s enjoying this.

But perhaps it’s a chicken-and-egg issue. Maybe people read hockey stories because they’re prioritized, he posits.

While you’re accusing me of a men’s hockey bias, have you actually done any kind of analysis? I’ve added coverage of women’s hockey, as well as other sports that have long been ignored, like wrestling and intramurals. Compare that to last year’s sports section. I blink furiously. I absolutely do not want to give Bryce the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

He waves my protests away. I’m sorry, Andy. But, as editor-in-chief, I have to avoid even a hint of impropriety. You really should have come to me as soon as the relationship started so we could deal with the impact. You can’t let our past affect your professionalism.

Our past? I’m not some lovesick ex who avoids Bryce because I still care, I avoid him because I can’t stand him! As if anyone at this newspaper would announce to the EIC that they were in a new relationship because it might impact their reporting.

It’s truth time. I straighten and look Bryce right in his arrogant, smirking face.

“The only person here letting personal feelings affect work decisions is you. You’ve already admitted that you made me the sports editor out of spite over our breakup. The fact that I succeeded must have been a huge shock for you. Now you’re punishing me for not taking back the op-ed job when you begged me to clean up the mess you made.

Why are you so obsessed with my personal life? You’ve clearly moved on. I motion towards the spellbound Heidi. When are you going to realize that your petty decisions affect the quality of the newspaper and everything we work so hard to do here?

Bryce’s faint smile is infuriating. My hands are clenched at my sides and my body is almost vibrating with fury.

Andy, be rational here. Let’s say there were rumours of misbehaviour by hockey players. I think sexual assault is their crime of choice, isn’t it?

I can’t let this horrific exaggeration pass. That’s a disgusting thing to say. You can’t judge all hockey players based on a few awful ones.

He waves away my protest again. Fine. Hazing, drug use, whatever. The real question is, would you be able to report on that story? Would you be able to blow the whistle on your boyfriend’s best buddies? Could you handle the blowback from the team afterwards? Tell me the truth.

While Bryce is the last person in the world who deserves fair consideration, I discover to my alarm that there is a kernel of truth in his question. I like all these guys now, from the uber-cool Vik to the desperate Bergy. I’m not sure if I could fairly report on a hockey controversy. And would anyone with a complaint against the hockey team believe that I’m unbiased? I sway a little. I feel nauseous with all the emotions swirling in me.

Bryce crosses his arms. That smug smile is fully back. See, you have to admit I’m right. Will you resign? Or do I have to fire you? A resignation would look better on your résumé, he urges.

Bryce Myrtle, manipulating every detail of his life since he could talk. I summon up all my defiance for one last protest. I raise my voice so that everyone can hear.

A good editor-in-chief would acknowledge the excellent work I’ve been doing and try to brainstorm ways around the problem, instead of issuing ultimatums based on zero evidence. I haven’t done anything wrong, so if you want me gone, you’re going to have to fire me.

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