Page 18 of The Best Parts of Him
“Because I said so. Now.” Ryland stood in one smooth motion that made the muscles in his calves bunch and release. “I know you need to get back to Burlington for the dogs in a few hours, so is there anything you want to see while we’re here?”
“Not see,” Dabbs said, rising. “But I do want to eat the strangest, most disgusting ice cream flavor on offer.”
Ryland laughed, the sound settling itself in Dabbs’ chest. “I’ve got just the thing.”
chapter four
“What do you think?” Ryland asked, bracing himself as he stood in the field between the farmhouse and the farm shop.
On his phone, his team captain chopped vegetables, presumably for his dinner.
“A team retreat, huh?” Desmond Raymond said, his voice so deep it might as well have its own register. “Let me preface my response by saying that I like the idea.”
Ryland’s shoulders drooped. “But?”
“But . . . I’m conscious of timing. A team retreat this summer is problematic. Not only do most of the guys have their summer plans firmed up, but we’re scattered to the four winds right now.”
“True.” Ryland blew out a breath and tipped his head back, blinking up at an overcast sky. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
While Ryland hadn’t been impressed with Dabbs’ proclamation that teamwork was the only way to winning the Stanley Cup, the more he’d thought about it over the past few days, the more it began to make sense. As a cliquey team, the Columbus Pilots could use more cohesion.
Not that Ryland knew anything about how to bring a team together. Sure, he’d been team captain for a year in college, but he’d been a shithead back then and had mostly led via arrogance and optimism.
Every blog he’d read about team building had suggested a team retreat. Ergo, this call with Des.
But he hadn’t considered the timing.
“And it’s not like we can do it during the season,” he said, thinking out loud. “So we’d be looking at next summer.”
“Unless we can fit it into training camp. But I doubt it.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Not for this season, but I’ll talk to Coach about including it in next season’s training camp.”
It was over a year away, but that was fine. It wasn’t like attending one team-building retreat this summer would miraculously create team cohesiveness.
But they had to start somewhere.
“I liked your idea for show-and-tell.”
“Oh man.” Chuckling, Ryland sat on the grass. “I was worried you’d think it was too juvenile.”
“I think it’s great.” Des traded a carrot for a zucchini and began chopping. “Every player picks a day that they’ll bring something in before a game or team meeting. It’ll create connection, and that’s what we’re missing.”
“That was my thought too. Like, Miles has this chessboard that used to be his grandfather’s. It’s the one his grandfather taught him to play on before he died, and it’s basically his most prized possession. And a while back, I overheard Lang mention that he used to be on his high school chess team. They have something in common that could bring them closer together, but they don’t even know it because they’ve never hung out outside of the arena.
“Oh, and I had this other idea,” Ryland rambled on, “that you might actually think is juvenile. But what about . . . I’m not sure what to call them. Team spirit trophies? Things the team can vote on and we can give the trophies out at the end of the season. Rookie of the year, most improved, most sportsmanship, best at getting everyone motivated. And then irrelevant ones like best smile, best flow, cleanest stall, and smelliest socks. I’m just trying to think of ways to create common threads between us.”
“I love it,” Des said. “And we can look at doing small-group activities outside the arena too. Mini golf, pub trivia, escape rooms. That sort of thing.”
A cry came from Des’s side of the line—his newborn demanding attention.
“I gotta go,” Des said. “We’ll talk about this some more in the next few weeks, yeah?”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Des.”
Hanging up, Ryland lay back in the grass and stared up at the sky. The clouds were heavy with rain, and behind him, the forest underbrush rustled, likely from a squirrel or chipmunk.
He was aware that nothing he hoped to implement would be a quick fix. That wasn’t the point. His goal was to get the guys working together in a way that would make it easier for them—and him—to instinctively know where their teammates were on the ice during a game.
