Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I can’t do anything but offer a slight nod of understanding before I move past him to Patrick’s office.
I knock and enter.
Patrick is sitting behind the desk mid-conversation with Coach Monahan, who’s in a chair to the left with coffee in hand. Oliver is standing at the end of the desk, bent over an open folder holding documents. Van stands near the window that overlooks the rink, arms loose at his sides.
Patrick smiles at me and gestures to the remaining chair. “Thank you for coming, Livia.”
“Good morning,” I say, letting my eyes pass to each of the men who smile back at me.
“I’ll be direct,” Patrick says after I take a chair. “We’re here to discuss Locke Donovan and whether this organization can continue to carry him on the roster.”
The word continue holds a lot of power in that sentence. I keep my face neutral, even though I have an opinion already on the matter.
Kemp lifts the folder, pulls out a paper. He’s in his late thirties, tall and athletically fit, with laugh lines that soften his otherwise angular face. He’s a handsome man, but so is every other one in this room. I wonder if it’s a hiring requirement.
“Two incidents in eleven days,” he says. “The Nashville game, game misconduct for abuse of officials following a fight he instigated. The Calgary game, a misconduct for attacking an opposing player after the altercation had been separated.” He looks up. “Both on home and away ice, televised for the world to see. I think we need to discuss letting him go.”
That’s a very broad term and I understand enough about professional sports contracts to know that you can’t just fire a player. But there are options to keep him off the ice.
“I’d rather understand that history before we make any decisions based on it,” Coach says.
“The history doesn’t change the optics, Colter.”
“The history might change the context.”
Kemp lets that sit, not dismissing it but clearly not accepting it either. “His contract runs through the end of this season with a team option for two more years at six point four million per year. If we release him now, we eat the remainder of this season’s salary—roughly three point eight million. If we exercise the option and this pattern continues, we’re looking at twelve point eight million dollars and a discipline record that gets harder to defend to the league every time it adds a line.” He closes the folder. “The league has already been in contact. This is on their radar.”
Everyone absorbs that, which makes things more serious.
“There are other options besides buying out the contract,” Oliver offers. “We can scratch him and then hit him with fines.”
That’s often done to send a message to the player. Each team has twenty-three players on the roster but only dress twenty for a game. Locke would sit out and someone would come in and take his place.
“What do we lose on the ice?” Patrick asks, steepling his fingers before his chin, his gaze going to Colter.
The coach sets his coffee down. “His zone coverage numbers are top three in the league. Blocked shots top five. His average ice time in high-leverage defensive situations is higher than anyone else on this roster because I trust him there more than anyone else I’ve got. When he’s on the ice and locked in, we are materially harder to score against.” He pauses. “Releasing him means promoting from the minors. We’ve got a few options, but we’d be taking a significant step backward.” He looks at Oliver. “We’d feel that in the standings.”
“We’ll feel Donovan’s discipline issues in the standings too,” Oliver says. “He cost us the Nashville game.”
“Fair point,” Colter says with an incline of his head.
The room is quiet as the men absorb the information. Everyone is right, and no one is wrong.
Van hasn’t said anything yet. He’s still at the window, looking at the ice, and I’ve spent enough time around him to know that his silence in a room like this is its own kind of contribution. He’s listening to everything and the fact that he hasn’t spoken means he hasn’t heard what he needs to hear yet.
“Livia.” Patrick turns to me. “Have you made any headway with him?”
I think about what I can say and what I can’t. About the gym in San Diego and a conversation about Roman infrastructure that shouldn’t have happened and did. About the question I asked that closed him down so fast I felt the draft from across the room. About a word I heard clearly from the Calgary bench that I haven’t mentioned to anyone and don’t intend to mention now because whatever it means belongs to Locke and not to this meeting.
“I haven’t had a real session with him yet,” I say carefully. “He’s resistant. That’s visible to everyone in this building and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.” I pause, noting I have their attention, including Van’s, who turns from the window. “What I will say is that in my professional experience, the resistance itself is information. The degree to which someone works to stay closed tells you there’s something behind that door.” I look at Patrick directly. “I’d like a real shot at him before this organization makes a decision it can’t walk back.”