Page 2 of Cross-Checked

I appreciate how she understands that every single decision I make is viewed through the lens of “the first female GM in the history of the league...” It’s a privilege to serve in this role. And yet, sometimes the pressure is stifling.

Over the last six seasons, we’ve set pretty much every individual record in Rebels history—most shutouts, highest number of goals scored in a single season, most goals scored by a defenseman, most assists by a single player, highest save percentage, and the list goes on. If we can win the conference championship this year, we’ll be the winningest team in Boston hockey history.

That pressure isn’t on my shoulders—I’ve done everything I can leading up to and during this season to put the team in a position to bring home the Cup again. Now, it’s up to them. Butif it doesn’t happen, I already know I’ll hyperfixate on what I could have done differently to set them up better.

And one of the questions I’m sure I’ll be asking myself is whether it was a mistake to bring Frank Hartmann’s son, Luke, to Boston as our newest goalie. I did it against his wishes because while he was concerned it would look like nepotism, my primary concern is finding a replacement for our top goalie, Colt, who will likely retire at the end of next season.

Luke is fresh and young, a player who I knew would work well with and learn from Colt. He came here with no ego. He’s the kind of selfless team player we need, and I wish some of our veteran players—particularly our team captain Ronan McCabe—were more like Luke Hartmann.

And while Hartmann did well in the regular season, now that we’re in the playoffs, he isn’t playing at the level I need him to be. I remind myself that he’s still growing, that this is only his third season in the pros and his first time making the playoffs, but the self-doubt creeps in, making me question myself and my past decisions.

“What the hell is going on, AJ?” Lauren asks. It’s only then that I realize I’m so lost in my own head, I never responded to her.

“Nothing. It’s a lot of pressure is all, just like you said.”

“Are you doing okay with everything?” Her sweet voice carries notes of empathy.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that this damn award is adding a whole other level of stress to an already overwhelming time.”

“It’s like Stefanie said, though. It’s long overdue. You’ve earned this.”

The finalists for the award are voted on by every general manager in the league, plus a few league executives and a few members of the media. The stats for our team—the way we’vegrown and improved over the six seasons I’ve been here—would have had any other GM nominated years ago.

And yet, I’ve never been a finalist.

I could speculate on all the reasons why, but I’ve been down that road before, and it doesn’t end well for my mental health.

“You turned this team around, AJ,” Lauren reminds me. “And whether you’re a finalist for this award or not doesn’t change that. Not when you’ve already come this far.”

I lean back in my chair, relaxing for the first time in too long. “I know you’re right. And I know that carving out a space for women in such a male-dominated sport is an uphill battle?—”

“One you’ve alreadywon, by the way,” Lauren chimes in.

“—and I’m not doing it for the recognition, you know? I’d never tell anyone else this,” I say, glancing at the open door to make sure no one’s outside my office, before I drop my voice lower. “But for once, it would be nice for the men who hold the same position I do to look at the work I’ve done here and to finally say ‘good job.’ Frank took such a huge risk bringing me here, and I’m honored to have been the first female GM in the league. I just want to make sure I’m not the last, you know?”

I want my legacy to live on.It sounds so selfish and cliché when I say it in my head. But I don’t want this for my own ego. I want this so that other women know they can do this, too.

But I keep the thought where it belongs—in my head—because I don’t know how to say that without it sounding like it’s about me.

“You won’t be the last, AJ. But it’s a huge honor to have been the first. And even if you had sucked at it,” Lauren says with a laugh, “which obviously youhaven’t, you still wouldn’t be the last female GM. Because now that you’ve done it, even more women are going to set their sights on upper management.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Like you?”

She laughs again and holds both her hands out in front of her like she’s pushing the thought away. “No, I have my hands absolutely full at the moment. I couldn’t take on any more responsibility, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, so stop trying to put ideas in my head.”

Lauren’s got three-year-old twin girls, and this summer she’s getting married to one of the best men I know. Jameson Flynn is not only one of the most well-respected agents in hockey, he’s also incredibly loyal, trustworthy, and fair. He’s brought me talent I didn’t know I needed, and helped me rebuild his former team behind the scenes. The fact that he also introduced me to Lauren when she was looking to get back into sports marketing has only made me like him more.

“You sure?” I tease. “Because I’d love to have a female VP on staff.”

“Listen, I’m not sayingnever. I’m just saying no time soon.”

“So now you’re handing out promotions without even running them by me?” Frank Hartmann’s voice bellows as he strides through the door to my office.

A broad grin splits my face at his teasing tone. One of the things I love most about Frank, besides the fact that he’s like the dad I wish I had, is that he isn’t a micromanager. I run things by him out of professional courtesy, but aside from my decision to bring his son onto our team—which he was concerned would look like nepotism—he never questions me. He trusts me to do the job he hired me to do, and that’s been one of the best parts of coming to Boston.

“No, no,” Lauren says with a shake of her head. “AJ just promoted me to my current position. She’s not promoting me again.”

“Have I told you recently that you’re doing a fine job?” Frank asks her.

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