Page 201 of Staying Selfless

When I make my way back to the bench after my first disappointing shift in the NHL, my new offensive coordinator slaps my helmet with a demand. “Get your shit together.”

That’s exactly what I need to do. I need to put the accident out of my mind and focus on the game at hand. I need to get my shit together, so I don’t get released from this roster just as quickly as I got added.

But after sixty minutes of hockey and two intermissions, I didn’t get my shit together.

In fact, I played the worst hockey I think I’ve ever played in my life. I couldn’t focus.

My coach was gracious. We had a little talk post-game, and he told me he was understanding because it was my first game in the league and the tempo was quicker than what I was used to. I let him believe that was the issue because I’d rather not inform him that my lack of skill tonight was solely based on the fact that I couldn’t focus on the task at hand. That anytime I would get in the game, Logan’s injured face from our pre-game phone call would pop into my mind.

He also told me that if I didn’t get it going by the next game, which is tomorrow night, our post-game conversation would be a whole lot different.

I quickly shower and change back into my suit with plenty of time before I need to get back on the team bus and head to the airport. Our game tomorrow night is in Detroit, and we have a red-eye flight to Michigan tonight.

“Maddison,” one of our team managers calls out. “You’ve got a visitor in the hall. Says he’s your daddy.”

I roll my eyes because even though my dad is here, and I do need to talk to him about something before I leave, I know he’s not the one waiting for me.

“Daddy, huh?” I ask Zanders, unimpressed.

“After that shit-show of a performance you just put on? Yeah, I think ‘Daddy’ is the appropriate term.” He puts his hand in mine for a shake and throws the other around my shoulder, tapping my back with his fist.

“We beat you 4-2.”

“They did.” He nods towards my locker room and referring to my teammates. “But you sucked ass.”

“Always such an encouraging friend.”

“You know I’m not going to kiss your ass, Maddison. In the same way, you wouldn’t sugarcoat it for me. That’s why we are friends.

“But,” Zanders continues. “After all that, the reason I came by is that I wanted to tell you not to beat yourself up over it. I was absolute garbage in my first pro game. It took a minute for me to get my stride too.”

“That’s not the problem,” I counter. “I felt perfectly capable of keeping up with the tempo. But I can’t get Logan out of my head or the fact that I feel guilty as hell for being here.”

“Maddison,” Zanders sighs. “Logan will kill you if you fuck this up because of her.”

“I know.”

“Look, man. You know I’m a fan of your girl, but maybe what you need to do for the next six weeks or so is put her out of your mind.”

“That’s what Logan said.”

“Yeah, well, that right there tells you how much she wants this for you.”

“It feels selfish.”

“Fuck that. I know how you operate. You’re doing this for her. It’s not selfish when you’re doing this so you can provide a good life for her.”

“EJ!” Marc calls down the hall.

Turning my head, I find my family waiting for me down the hall, still proud even though I just played like shit.

They wave to Zanders, my once hated rival waving right back. The fact that everyone is more than cool with one another is something that still blows my mind to this day.

“I’ll let you get going,” Zanders says with a quick fist bump. “But the other thing I wanted to mention was that the teams have therapists on staff. It’s not really talked about, but you just have to ask, and they’ll hook you up with someone to talk to. Might not be a bad idea to stay on top of this,” he taps his head, referring to my mental health, “with everything you’re going through right now.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Talk soon,” he adds before taking off towards his team’s locker room.

---