Page 4 of Like A Daydream
“If you’re trading me, can you just tell me?” Andrew blurts. “I need to put my house on the market as soon as I can, and I’ll have to call my parents and tell the team and try to find a new place to live wherever you’re sending me. Not that any team is going to want me now that I’ve royally messed up –”
“Woah, slow down Drew,” Coach says. “Who said anything about trading you?”
“My life has been nothing but bad news,” Andrew answers with a snort. “Why would this be any different?”
“Living in a constant state of waiting for the worst possible scenario is probably the least healthy thing you can do,” Landry says, shaking his head. “Why would I trade one of the best Left Defensemen in the league?”
“I cost us the Cup,” Andrew says. “Public opinion is taking a toll. They’re burning effigies of me down town. I haven’t slept in two weeks, I’m having daily panic attacks… I could go on.”
He’d tried to stay off of social media for the last two weeks, but the news had made the rounds. People actually wanted him dead, and that was terrifying.
“You didn’t cost us the Cup,” Coach says. “We probably would have lost in over time because we were tired and the other team was out-skating us, so knock that shit off right now.”
“But—”
“No,” Landry cuts him off. “Besides Jamie Thompson, you are, hands down, no contest, the best player we’ve had in years. Certainly, the best one that I’ve coached. I’m not sending you anywhere, and you’re not wearing anything but red and black for the foreseeable future. Got it?”
Andrew hangs his head. “Got it.”
“Good,” Coach says. “Now. The real reason I called you in here was to see if you’re holding up okay. Which, clearly, you’re not, since your brain is making up stupid shit in its spare time.”
Andrew laughs at that.
“This hasn’t been the easiest two weeks of my life,” he concedes.
“Well, it’s not going to get any easier now that the trading window is open. People are going to keep talking, and you’re going to have to keep your head down and ears closed.”
Andrew nods. “You promise I’m not leaving?”
“Do you want me to pinky swear, kid?” Landry asks, rolling his eyes. “Trading you hadn’t crossed my mind for a second.”
“So why am I here?”
“To reassure you of that, check in on your mental health, and to tell you that if I evenhearabout you being on skates during the off-season, I’ll end your career myself. I’m serious.”
“That’s stupid,” Andrew says, “how am I supposed to be ready to play in September if I’m not skating?”
“You have to take care of your brain and your heart first,” Coach says, tapping his temple again. “Half of sports are played up here. And if you aren’t ready in your mind, you could be the best skater in the game and still play like trash.”
“I’m already going to therapy,” Andrew replies, “I’ve been going since I started playing in college.”
“I’m aware,” Coach replies, “sometimes, you need therapyandto do something that fills your soul. You’re a good player, and I’d hate to see something so simple as a Stanley Cup break you.”
“Did I hear right, or did you just call the Stanley Cup simple?”
“You heard,” Coach says, “Do I want a Cup win as a coach? Sure. Do I think that this is the team that has a chance of winning one? Yeah, I do. At the end of the day, it’s just a title. Titles aren’t important in the long run.”
“What’s more important than a Stanley Cup?”
Coach smiles.
“How about you take the off-season and find out?”
“That’s not vague as hell,” Andrew says, but he’s grinning for the first time in two weeks.
He leaves the arena with a different spring in his step.
The relief he feels is palpable. He’s still on the team. Three of his teammates apologized on his way out and all but invited themselves over to his house for dinner the next week. He’ll have to call Catalina and see if she can come cook for them if he pays her.
