Page 25 of Dirty As Puck
“Morrison’s background is…unique,” Coach Williams says carefully. “He didn’t have the traditional hockey family support most of these guys grow up with.”
Unique. That’s an interesting word choice.
“How so?”
“Foster care system. Bounced around quite a bit as a kid. Didn’t start playing organized hockey until he was twelve, which is ancient by NHL standards.”
Foster care. Not exactly the entitled athlete narrative I was expecting.
“That must have made his development challenging.”
“Made him tougher. Kid had to fight for everything––ice time, equipment, coaching attention. Nothing was handed to him.” Coach Williams pauses the conversation to make a note on his practice sheet. “Morrison earned every opportunity he got.”
Interesting. This doesn’t fit the spoiled athlete profile at all.
My journalist instincts kick into high gear. If Kai’s background is different from his public image, there’s a story there. The question is whether it’s the kind of story Marcus Webb wants, or something else entirely.
“What about his reputation for aggressive play? The penalties, the fights?”
Coach Williams gives me a look that suggests I’m missing something obvious. “Morrison plays hard because he knows what it’s like to have nothing. Every shift could be his last, so he leaves everything on the ice. That intensity gets misinterpreted as anger sometimes.”
Misinterpreted. Or deliberately spun that way.
This is getting more complicated. Foster care background, late start in hockey, no family support––these details don’t support the bad boy athlete narrative the media has built around him. But they might support something else. Something that could be just as valuable from a story perspective.
Why would someone want to hide a sympathetic background? What’s he really covering up?
“May I also mention, Ms. Winters, that many of our players come from different backgrounds, yet a lot of the media focus stays on Mr. Morrison. I want to reiterate this to you that he is…deserving and a hard worker with a lot of talent and heart. Nobody reaches his success without it. Understood?”
I nod. “Thank you for your time, Coach.”
I leave his office with more questions than answers and a growing sense that there’s a bigger story here. If Kai came from foster care, if he had to fight for every opportunity, thensomeone has been working very hard to paint him as a privileged problem child. The question is who benefits from that narrative, and what they’re trying to hide.
This could be exactly the kind of dirt Marcus wants. Just not the kind we expected.
I find Kai in the equipment room after practice, methodically hanging up his gear with the kind of attention to detail that speaks of years spent taking care of his own equipment. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, but his shoulders tense when I clear my throat.
“We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” He continues organizing his gear like I’m not standing three feet away.
“Your background doesn’t match your public image. Foster care, late start in hockey, no family support system. That’s not exactly the entitled athlete story everyone thought.”
Kai finally turns to look at me, and his gray eyes are cold as winter ice. “Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
The dismissive tone makes anger flare in my chest. “Maybe you’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”
That gets his attention.
Kai steps toward me, closing the distance until I’m backed against the equipment lockers. The metal is cold against my back, but the heat radiating from his body makes the temperature difference irrelevant.
“You think you know me because you talked to Coach for five minutes?”
“I think there’s more to your story than the angry hockey player persona. And I think someone’s been working very hard to make sure that’s the only story people hear.”
His jaw tightens. “And what if everything you think you know about me is bullshit?”
“Then maybe you should tell me the real story instead of letting me dig it up myself.” I lift my chin defiantly. “Because I will dig it up. That’s what I do.”
