Page 15 of Love Lessons
I snort. “TMI, man.”
“No, I’m dead serious. Before Ari, I never made time in my life for anything but hockey. Retiring used to terrify me. But not anymore. I want to quit while I’m ahead. Before they’re saying, ‘Look at that poor bastard still trying to compete with the youngsters.’ And I want to do a lot of things I’ve missed over the years.”
“Fuck.” I swallow hard. And now I’m just depressed. But I won’t rain on his parade. “Congrats, man. You know I’m gonna miss you.”
“Yeah, you will. For a minute, maybe. Until I’m armchair quarterbacking you after every game. We’re neighbors now, so I think it’s my right.” He pokes me in the ribs. “And you can help me name a new captain.”
“That falls on you, huh?”
“Some of it,” he says. “I’ll be talking to some of the guys this summer, collecting some input. Maybe while you’re on your big Italy trip, you can call and give me your thoughts.”
“Okay, yeah. Happy to help. I’m sure you’ll pick somebody good.”
“It’s a hard job, but it’s a great job, you know? I think I was a shitty captain those first couple years.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Yeah, I was, because I really didn’t understand the job. I thought it was all about modeling behavior. Like all I had to do was show up early and leave last. Keep my head down and show the youngsters how to have a career.”
“Well, that doesn’t hurt.”
“But anyone can do that. The real job is modeling the struggle. Everyone has bad days. Everyone makes a stupid play. It’s what you do next that’s most important. When I’m looking back on my time in the game, I’m going to remember sitting with the guys who were struggling. Not some goal I made in a big game.”
“Shit, Doulie. You’re going from legend to guru right now.”
He cracks a smile that only cutting-edge, modern dentistry could provide for a guy who’s played pro hockey for eighteen years. “Today I took Newgate out to lunch. He’s struggling.”
“With our third-round loss?” I ask. Because that’s what I’m still battling. “I saw him for a second today, and he was in a foul mood.”
He shakes his head. “He thinks he’s getting traded.”
What? “Why does he think so? It’s probably not true. Management keeps that shit locked up tight.”
O’Doul shrugs. “His family has a lot of hockey connections, so he heard whispers. I told him I had no idea if it was true. But I bought him a burger and let him rant.”
“You’re a good captain, Doulie. What are we going to do without you?”
And Christ—no wonder Newgate didn’t feel like a workout today. The poor guy thinks he’s getting FedExed to a new team.
God, don’t let that happen to me. I suddenly feel very paranoid. Because it could happen. Easily.
“You won’t even miss me, so long as I choose the right guy,” he says. “You can help me.”
“Yeah, okay. Sure.” I don’t think it’s that complicated, though. There are two or three guys who’d be the obvious choices.
“When do you take off to Italy?” O’Doul asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Thursday. We’ll be gone a couple weeks. Drake’s using one of his family’s jets. All I gotta do is show up with a suitcase and a passport.”
“Nice.”
“Isn’t it? Vacations are awesome already, but not having to buy a plane ticket is a whole new level of awesome.”
“Hope you have a great time.”
“I’m sure I will.” But I’ll probably spend part of it worrying about my future in hockey. O’Doul’s departure is a bummer. No two ways about it.
“You gonna go visit that kid when you come back?”
