Page 105 of Well Played

When Sauer sees them, his eyes lose their hazy look and tighten into slits. You’d think a death squad was imminent. “What’s going on?”

“It’s your ACL.”

“My ACL has bothered me for a long time.”

“Too long, and now you have to have it fixed. We checked it out after you were admitted, thinking we could clear out debrisand get you to the end of the season, but the ligament ruptured and you can’t put off surgery any longer.”

The man rubs the back of his hand over the still-crusted eyes. “Can’t be that bad. I can still walk.”

Gnauss glowers. “You shouldn’t be walking. The fact you practiced yesterday probably exacerbated the problem. The swelling underneath the ACE bandage is extensive. Bruising too from the falls.”

Sauer starts to protest but the surgeon puts a hand on his arm. “We need to do grafts for several ligaments and repair the cartilage using chondrocytes that we harvested from the debris and grow in the lab.”

“So two surgeries?”

“Yes, the MACI procedure will take place about six weeks after the ACL surgery. By then we should have the material from the lab.”

I watch his face fall into his hands. In the background, machines beep and lights flash. No one speaks and minutes tick by. The nurse takes away the cold toast, butter congealed on the surface, leaving the cups behind.

“How long before I can be back on the ice?”

Gnauss scratches his cheek, as if unsure what to say. Phil Marshall takes over. “Your season is done, Sauer. You won’t even be able to walk without crutches for at least six weeks. The doctor here,” he indicates the surgeon, says you’re looking at a year, at least, maybe more.”

“I might lose part of next season too?”

“Maybe all of it,” the surgeon chimes in.

Gnauss puts a consoling hand on Sauer’s shoulder. “You’ll be in good hands. Maya is tasked with your recovery. She’ll be with you every step of the way.”

From the horror on his face, I can tell this is Frank Sauer’s worst nightmare.

“And,” Phil goes on, “your mom is coming to help take care of you.”

“Noooo,” comes a pained cry from the injured man. And I realize that I am not the worst-case scenario.

7

We get nose jobs all the time in the NHL, and we don’t even have to go to the hospital.

– Brad Park

Frank

The doctors do more tests.They’ve already sent the debris to the lab to grow the new cells. The whole thing sounds disgusting. Especially all the aftercare.

Surgery is tomorrow morning. Mom will be here by then and will stay at my place. Life has turned into an absolute shitstorm. Even worse, there is a chance I won’t ever play again. I think of Merritt Alexander and wonder if he feels I’ve gotten my just desserts.

In my room, Maya sits in the visitor’s chair in the corner, as if her presence in the background might provide comfort. With a resolution I have to force, I try to ignore her, but the little peeks I keep taking tell me that I’m a doomed man. Reading glassesperched on her nose, she barely looks up from her phone as I curse under my breath.

“Surgery, huh?”

Thoughts about what might happen jangle through my body.No weakness, Sauer,my inner censor chides. Because she’s not looking at me, I push away the shivers and try for a casual slump. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll be recreated as the bionic man.” My halfhearted joke produces a quick glance and a snicker.

“You’ll be good as new once you’re through the recovery. Everything they use is original, Sauer.” The cheery lilt grates.

“Frankenstein.” I make a growly sound.

Her screen goes dark. “Just catching up on some of my reading.”

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