Page 27 of One Good Puck
“Of course. I know the players feel it too. As thrilling as it was to win the Stanley Cup, there’s an expectation that comes with it. People expect us to play perfectly every time. That’s just not possible. All we can do is play hard and play our best every single time we hit the ice.”
“A strong showing in the preseason doesn’t always mean a strong showing in the regular season,” someone else says.
I wait for the reporter to say more, but he doesn’t. This reporter always says some smart-ass comment to try and geta rise out of me during post-game press. He just wants a clip of me losing my shit so he can go viral.
I look at him, annoyed. “Did you have a question or just a comment?”
Before he can answer, a different reporter speaks up.
“Coach Porter, what prompted the decision to put Ryker St. George on the second line? He was a consistent fourth-line player last season when he played for Detroit.”
“His performance during training camp showed me that he’s capable of being on the second line,” I say. “He played well tonight. It’s clear he earned his spot.”
“Do you regret getting rid of McCoy, who’s a younger, better player, so you could make room on the roster for St. George?” the smart ass reporter asks.
“That’s not at all what happened. Don’t report things that aren’t true,” I say.
“Can you explain what happened then?”
I clench my jaw, pissed. “It was in the press release we sent out.”
“But not everyone saw that. I think it would be helpful if you addressed it now.”
“McCoy lost his spot on the team because he committed a crime. St. George joined the team because we had an open spot. Those are two completely separate instances, unrelated to each other. For you to try to connect the two is pointless. And irresponsible reporting.”
“Do you think you made the right call?” another reporter asks. “According to the latest sports news reports, it’s rumored that McCoy might get picked up by another team in the league.”
I grit my teeth, pissed that anyone would ever let that scumbag play for their team. But this happens all the time in professional sports. Some teams don’t care about thecharacter of a player if they’re good. It’s honestly disgusting. They’d let a psychopath play for them as long as they scored goals.
“I made the right call.” My tone is hard.
“But what if?—”
“I want to make this very clear to you all,” I say, cutting him off. “I don’t care how good you are at hockey. If you’re a disgusting human being, I don’t want you on my team.”
A few more reporters start to speak up, but I’m too irritated to answer any follow-up questions. I walk out of the press room and into my office.
I’m certain I’m going to catch hell from Alan once he hears what I said during the post-game press. Whatever.
I start going over footage from tonight’s game when my phone rings. It’s Alan.
I sigh and contemplate not answering, but he’ll just keep at it till I acknowledge him.
I answer the call.
“What was with that little outburst during post-game press?” he asks.
I roll my eyes, thankful he can’t see my face. “I wouldn’t call that an outburst.”
“You were pissed, Gavin. It was pretty obvious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? That reporter was being a jerk asking those questions about McCoy.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Oh, don’t give me that, Alan. You get pissed too when reporters hound you about stuff that isn’t their business.”
He lets out a heavy breath, laced with frustration. “Fair. But come on, this was a preseason game. You know better than to get that worked up this early on.”
