Page 1 of Love of the Game
CHAPTER 1
DRAKE
“Williams.”
Oh man, I flinched at the tone of Coach Robinson’s voice. Firm, with a hint that I wasn’t going to enjoy what he had to say. Last time he’d spoken to me like this, he’d shuffled me from the first line to the third, and the next week, I’d been scratched entirely. I’d spent the last three games in the press box. Bet plenty of people were loving that.
I paused in my quest to strip off my gear from practice. “Yeah, Coach?” I was still pissed at myself for my play so far this year, idling in the press box, and the damn drills they’d run at practice today (I was not a PKer, for fuck’s sake).
That frustration must’ve ended up in my voice, because he gave me a look that only a father of five could manage. “After you shower, JR wants to see you upstairs.”
Ohshit. JR was Jeremy Roth, our general manager. Going upstairs usually meant being traded. It was early in the season, though—just after Thanksgiving—so who knew what this meant. I swallowed and nodded. Once I was cleaned and dressed, I headed up the stairs that led to thestaff offices above the locker rooms, and knocked on the doorframe of the GM’s office, my heart in my throat.
JR looked up from his laptop. “Drake. Come in and sit down, son.”
Son. Fuck. I kept my mouth shut, and took a seat in front of his desk.
He folded his hands together. “This is never easy, so I’m not going to beat around the bush. We’re placing you on waivers this afternoon.”
Waivers? “What?” I choked out the word, then slammed my lips together before the“Are you fucking kidding me?”poured out. I was still on my entry level contract until the end of the season, but I’d been waivers-eligible for a while. Hell, I’d never played in the PHL. I’d come straight to the Lions camp from the draft, made the team, and never left.
Now, I was likely off to some other NAPH team, slump or not. I was too good to end up in the PHL. Right?
Are you?That tiny voice in my head was awfully loud, and a certain set of direct messages flashed through my mind’s eye.
JR sighed. “I hate to do this, son, believe me. But the team’s in a slump, and so are you. We’re bringing up some fresh faces. Shake some things up a bit. Hopefully, you’ll find your game again with the Otters.”
The Greensburg Otters were the affiliate of the Pittsburgh Lions. They were only an hour away, but they might as well been on the West Coast for all I paid attention to them. “You—think I’ll clear?” That chilled me to my marrow. Was I so bad now that no other NAPH team would take a chance on me?
I don’t know if he was actually calculating in his head, or just playing the thoughtful manager, but after a moment,he straightened in his seat. “It’s hard to know how it’ll go. We’d prefer for you to stay in the system—you’re a good player when you’re on your game, Drake.”
I wasn’t on my game. Hadn’t been, despite blowing it out of the water in training camp. I had no idea what the fuck was wrong with me, and now suddenly, I had to prove myself. Two years of effort and good play wasn’t enough. “I guess—I guess I should pack my stuff up.” I was going somewhere tomorrow, regardless. Question now was where.
He nodded and rose. “Like I said, son. We’d rather you stay in the system, find your game, come back and play like you have in the past. Sometimes a change of scenery helps.”
Personally, if I had to choose—since I couldn’t stay here—I wanted another NAPH team to claim me. I had to believe I was still a good player in a slump not… useless. I shut down that thought, rose and shook JR’s hand. “I guess we’ll see. I like it here.”
That was the truth. Pittsburgh was kind of the perfect hockey town. Big city enough, but not so much that it was unbearable. And my entry-level salary went pretty far.
As I headed back down to the locker room to pack up my equipment and talk to the logistics people about moving—either temporarily or permanently. My God, if I ended up with the Otters, I was royally fucked. I’d be making a tenth of what I made now there. How the hell would I pay the rent on my downtown apartment? I’d still need it for when—if—the Lions called me up.
Shit. Fuck. This was so stupid, all of it. If I hadn’t been sitting in the fucking press box— Then again, I was sitting there because in eighteen games, I had one assist, no goals, and was a minus 10. Shit season. Shit play.Useless. There was that word again.
No wonder they were waiving me.
When I got back to the locker room, it was completely empty, except for Bearsy—Kevin Bear—our team captain. He had a fucking look of pity on his face.
“Guess you heard,” I said.
“Yeah.” He stretched out his legs. “You’ll be all right, Duck. And look, if you end up going to the Otters, there’s some great guys down there. And you’ll be back soon enough, if you do end up down.”
Ugh. I did not want to end up on the Otters. “I hate leaving. No matter where I end up. I wish—” Yeah, I wished a lot of things. I gave Bearsy a shrug. “Well, can’t do anything about it now.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, eh?”
Yeah. Maybe. Hopefully.
Fuck. I was gettingwaived.
