Page 99 of Out Of Time

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Max. Max. Max,” she said, bouncing up and down in her seat.

He knew exactly what she meant.

“Oh, my fucking… Max. Max,” she kept on saying.

He knew exactly what was happening.

She pulled him to his feet. His heart raced. His eyes blurred. He blinked.

“Five seconds.”

He blinked.

She began to jump up and down.

The whole arena counted down.

“Four-three-two…”

Remi jumped into his arms. She was screaming, “We did it, Max! We won the fucking Stanley Cup.”

He blinked.

And then he celebrated as tears fell from his eyes, down to his thick red beard.

They did it.

The Cup was theirs.

Only he wouldn’t be hoisting it, and he wouldn’t be getting his name on it. He wouldn’t be drinking lemonade from the farmers market from it with Remi, or eating hummus and pretzels from it. And he wouldn’t be skating on the ice with it held over his head, nervous he might drop it, too excited to care.

He blinked and pulled Remi into his arms.

“We sure did, Remi. We won it,” he said, because he was celebrating the wins, and despite all the things he couldn’t and wouldn’t do with the Cup, he still felt like he won.

The press room was packed with reporters. Max peeked in to see what he was up against, and despite having practiced his speech with Remi a million times, words were still hard, and press releases were harder, but announcing a retirement was the hardest of all.

His coach took a seat at the desk, a black tablecloth draped over it, a microphone and two bottles of water all lined up on the table. Max wondered if anyone ever drank the water they provided. The reporters’ phones, cameras, and recorders all shot into the air as a loud hush settled around them in the press room when his Coach leaned forward to speak.

“Thank you for being here today. After a big win this past week, the Stanley Cup is back home in the beautiful city of Anaheim for the first time in sixteen years. With spirits high surrounding this franchise, this is not the news I was hoping to bring into the press room today, but full transparency is the only way to go about what I have to share with you. It might be the hardest thing I’ve had to say at a press conference, so I’ll keep it brief so you can get more information from the source.

“Today, I am here in support of one of the greatest goalies to protect the net for the Anaheim Condors, Max Miller. I have been lucky enough to watch him grow as a player, and a person, and become a man I respect wholeheartedly as a friend, teammate, and son. Max Miller came to Anaheim a shy redheaded teen with a killer glove save and a lot of weird superstitions, and he will leave here today a Stanley Cup winner, even if he wasn’t on the ice that day. The work he put into this team in the years leading up to this big win played a vital role in why we were able to hoist the Cup last week. The extra hours he put into practicing and mentoring with our up-and-coming goalies was the foundation and future of men like Brown and Brody, and many goalies to come as Max Miller’s infinite wisdom, passion, and composure will trickle down to the next generation even after he is gone.

“There will never be another number thirty-one for the Anaheim Condors, and if I’m being honest, I doubt any player would feel worthy to wear that number again after today, as we say goodbye to the legacy of Max Miller and wish him a happy retirement.”

The press room went wild. Cameras flashed. Hands raised into the air. Reporters shouted out questions.

“Please allow me in welcoming Max Miller.”

Max blinked, wiped his nervous hands on his suit pants, and made his way to the press table.

Looking out, he scanned the sea of reporters, all of their faces distorted, the flash of the lights making his focus struggle. He knew Remi was out there, in the sea of strangers. He knew she was there giving him the go-ahead. She was there, with a double-dimple smile, encouraging him.

He blinked again, and then he began to talk.

“This wasn’t the press release I thought I would be giving this year. I think it’s safe to say this isn’t the press release anyof you were expecting today. This was supposed to be my big contract, my gap year, locking in my time with the Condors, the only team I played for in the NHL and the only team I’d want to. But last summer, during training, I noticed a shift in my reality that would forever change the course of my life and ultimately my career.

“As you all know, after the events that took place on December 23rdin Vancouver, I was put on medical leave, and not much information has been shared since. So, with full transparency, I’m here today to not only announce my retirement from the NHL, but to take this opportunity to use this platform, this moment, with all eyes on me, to bring awareness to my condition.

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