Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Like fucking shit,” he states.
“You can’t win them all,” I offer, sitting down at the table with the meal.
“You should tell the press that. Something is going on; I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“It was just an off game.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. They are making stupid mistakes, and botching plays we’ve gone over in practice, and I have to wonder if they are making the mistakes on purpose,” he wonders out loud. “I’m going to need them to get their heads out of their asses.”
“Have you always wanted to be a coach?”
“Yeah,” he says, “I knew I didn’t have what I needed in order to go far in the NHL on ice, so I put my focus on training to be a coach. Watching the coaches made me see the type of coach I wanted to be.”
“What do you mean?” I ask him, not sure what he is saying.
“I started this open-door policy with my players. To make sure that they were good mentally and physically.” His voice is so calm and not at all the way one would think he spoke if you looked at him. “I was on this team before coming to the Warriors. The coach was so old school, none of the players or the coaches could have facial hair. The players would get destroyed in the press. I’m not just talking about it’s a bad game. I’m talking that they would even get death threats and this is during regular season games. The only thing the coach and management said was, ‘If you get better, that won’t happen,'" he hisses out. “Who the fuck says that? I want my guys to know that they fucking matter. I want them to know that I’ve got their back. I want them to know that it’s okay to not be okay and everyone goes through it.”
“That’s so,” I start to say and I don’t know why something inside me shifts, “I think I really admire that the most about you,” I admit to him. “The tenacity to admit that one, you aren’t going to get far in the NHL as a player and instead of crying into your Cheerios, you put on your big boy pants and pivoted to something else while staying where your heart was.”
“You’re one to talk,” he throws out at me.
“What are you talking about?”
“You moved across the country for a job.”
“I mean it’s not like I did it without having a security blanket.”
“You came out here, got your own place, and did your own thing. You didn’t come here and live with your brother. Give yourself some credit.” I smile at his words. “Or else.”
I can’t help but burst out laughing. “Or else what?”
“No idea.” He now chuckles and I can feel his mood changing from when we started this phone call. “Just thought as the older one that I needed to say it. Authoritative.”
“Simmer down there, Grandpa.” That makes him laugh even more and the sound makes me feel like a million bucks.
“What were you up to today?” His voice is soft and it doesn’t take long for me to realize I like sharing this with him. Having a conversation about our day and just being there for each other.
“We went to visit a church playground and have decided we are going to use some of the funds the foundation made during the previous fundraiser to help rebuild it.”
“Where do you come in?”
I smile. “I am the social media whiz kid.” He chuckles. “So tomorrow I start doing my social media campaigns and hope that one of the reels I create goes viral. I’m going to wait until Jaxon is back in town and in a better mood before I ask him to make a video, and then post it on his social media.”
“You should touch base with the girl who does the PR for the team, Jill. They are always looking to give back to the community.” I gasp at his suggestion and can’t believe I didn’t even think of it.
“That is such a good idea. I was just going to ask Jaxon, Kirby, and Knox to drag some of the guys with them.”
“I’ll send you her number,” he offers and my phone pings with a text. “I just shared it.”
“You are pretty good with technology. Well, for someone your age anyway.” That makes him laugh and it feels good to laugh with him. “It’s going to get better,” I assure him softly.
He inhales and then exhales deeply, and I wish I was next to him. “Or worse.”
“Glass half full instead of half empty, Zane,” I say softly.
“Glass half full,” he says. “Thank you for tonight.” I lay my head down and close my eyes picturing him here with me. “For talking with me and letting me vent it out.”