Page 65 of Blindsided

Daisy actually snorted at the thought. “Yes, because Trevor would be so good at making these two behave.”

Tory returned and looked at me. “Okay, might as well start with your board.”

He’d just picked up a marker when the locker room door swung open to reveal Brax in full gear, his eyes wide. “Did you hear?”

It wasn’t like him to get so worked up. I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with Lincoln since he was next to me, and when Trevor jogged in after him, I felt myself sigh in relief. With the two biggest concerns not actually anything to worry about, I focused more on what Brax was saying.

“St. Claire retired.”

The words took a few seconds to sink in. “Wait, what?”

He nodded. “Press conference happening now.”

I hightailed it to the office and grabbed the remote for the locker room TV and was back in seconds, thankful the TV had been left on the sports network. The Bulldogs long-time team captain, thirty-seven-year-old Esme St. Claire, was sitting at the team’s press conference table. His brown hair had more gray in it than when I’d played with the team in Boston.

“Esme.” The voice of a female reporter I knew well spoke above the rest of the crowd trying to get his attention.

“Victoria,” Esme said with a nod of his head.

“Why the sudden change? You were drafted by the Bulldogs and have played exclusively for the team for the last fifteen seasons. There are three years left on the seven-year contract you signed. It has long been expected that you would retire then.”

Esme shook his head.

Looking at him on the screen, I could see how the last few seasons had aged him. He looked tired and weary. I had never been his biggest fan, even while we were playing on the same team, but it wasn’t that I disliked him as a person. I didn't like him or the majority of the first and second lines as players, but they were fantastic people off ice. It had been on ice that the team played dirty, old-school hockey that I’d seen injure too many players. It had been pure luck someone hadn’t died from one of the dirty hits the Bulldogs loved to throw around.

Whether I liked him or not wasn’t the issue, though, as I watched the press conference unfold. I knew he wouldn’t have waited until the first day of camp to announce his retirement. This entire thing was undoubtedly not what Esme had wanted to happen. He cared way too deeply about the Bulldogs to wait until training camp to make such an announcement.

“This was not a decision I, or the team, came to lightly. Until this summer, I had expected to play through the end of my contract, and god willing, maybe longer. The off season brought into focus aspects of my life and career I had not previously considered. After much soul-searching, discussions with my family and the Bulldogs organization, and more private contemplation, the decision was eventually reached that my time as a hockey player has come to an end.”

The locker room had filled while Esme had been speaking. Not only was the Parliament and our last handful of prospects standing there, the Grizzlies had joined as well. The room was packed, but I knew we’d have heard a pin drop as we stared at the TV, not daring to make a sound. Even Dane and Tory had put their differences aside to listen to the press conference.

Esme stopped talking and reporters once again yelled for his attention.

Three more rounds of questioning followed and in each one, Esme was as vague as he’d been while answering Victoria. His responses were rehearsed and I could see the lines of tension in his forehead and around his eyes.

“If that wasn’t a canned, vague response,” Brax said when the press conference concluded and coverage cut to the studio where the correspondents began to pick apart every question and response from the last ten minutes.

I shook my head. “I can’t believe he retired today.” The Bulldogs had had three months to announce his retirement. They could have waited another week and Esme could have said that he’d realized his body wasn’t up to professional hockey standards and he was making the difficult decision to retire. Instead, the team had waited until the first day of training camp, a day the entire hockey world would be watching, to drop a bombshell like St. Claire’s retirement.

“They forced him out. I know it. I just don’t know why.” Brax spoke the words I’d been thinking.

Cunningham cleared his throat. “Shocking. Can’t believe it myself, honestly.” He was quiet for a few minutes. “Let’s take a few minutes to regroup. See everyone for film review in thirty.”

“We’ve got a photo thing planned, might take longer,” I said in response.

Cunningham blinked a few times then nodded slowly. “Right. Cernak,” he looked over at Brax and clarified, “Er, Tom, mentioned something about that. Okay, Parliament guys, come to film study after you’re done. My guys, see you in thirty.”

A bunch of murmurs followed Irvin’s instructions and then movement as the Grizzlies players began to file out of the room to their locker room across the hall, leaving the Parliament alone and in an awkward position. It felt wrong to try to lighten the mood with the photo op, but at the same time, I felt it might be exactly what we all needed to get our heads back into training camp.

“There will be time to analyze the last ten minutes later tonight… after practice. Who has good handwriting?” When no hands went up, Tory groaned and looked at his list. “Owen Belcher. You’re up!”

Owen gave a confused look but headed over to where Tory and Dane were set up.

The half-hour break was enough to get through the players. Lisa and Daisy stepped up to help with the extra chalkboards and managed to create a production line of sorts to keep things moving. I even stepped in to clean chalkboards between each photo, unwilling to risk the truce Tory and Dane had found while we worked.

When the players headed to film review, Tory stopped Lincoln, Daisy, Tom, and me before we could follow. “Not so fast. You’re part of the team too.”

He handed Daisy her own chalkboard, then handed Lisa one for Tom. He then took Lincoln and me aside to fill out ours. The last question made me glance toward Lincoln.

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