Training the Team (Dougie Hamilton)

Providence Preseason

Sunday, September 20

5:00 am

I wake up to my phone ringing. I check the caller ID to see that Dougie's calling me.  

"Hello?" I ask, smothering a yawn. Dougie is rarely up before me, and for him to be calling me, something must be going on.

"Guess what day it is?" He asks in a hushed whisper.

I sigh, exasperated. "I don't know, Sunday?"

"It's game day," he whispers.

"Yeah, for you," I groan, rubbing my face with my hand. "I'm not going, remember?" I remind him.

Dougie swears loudly, making me grin. "I forgot about that! Dammit!"

"I know, I feel the same way," I sigh, sitting up in my bed.

"Stupid AHLers. They're taking you away from us."

"Technically, Whitey's the one sending me down there for preseason, so you can take it up with him," I say.

"I might. I'm very mad."

"Well, don't worry. I still have to get the Dunk early, and I might get to see you guys there before I have to leave for Connecticut."

"Good. I'll see you later, Kylie. Try not and have too much fun with the rookies; you still have to come back to us."

"I'll try," I laugh. "Not making any promises!"

"Bye, Matthews." I can hear Dougie's eye roll over the phone.

"Bye, Hamilton."

Dougie hangs up the phone, and I let my phone drop onto my lap. I look at my recent calls and am shocked to see how many of them are to or from Dougie. More than my mom, Bella, Whitey, Lucy, anyone. But then again, he is basically my best friend, and he's only barely holding onto that most calls title. Pasta and Reilly are close on his heels. In fact, I was talking to Pasta last night about what to expect for the AHL. He said exactly what Whitey said about it: I'll be less overwhelmed with the magnitude of it, probably be able to get some real hands-on experience, and it'll be a good transition. My favorite punk unfortunately won't be with me today, since he's playing up with the big boys for preseason. 

I haul myself out of bed to get ready for the day. I leave my apartment at 5:45 sharp, dressed, worked-out, fed, and ready to go work my first pro hockey game. I kept myself looking simple but presentable today, since I'm anticipating a lot of attention. I've got my favorite Nike sneakers on, black skinny jeans, and a charcoal sweatshirt. My hair is braided on one side to keep it off my face and then tied in a bun. My makeup is my usual eyeliner and mascara, this time with a subtle lip gloss. It's almost October, and I can feel how cold it's gotten as I walk to my truck. I'm glad I wore a sweatshirt today, that's for sure. 

The drive down to Providence was long, but I made it in plenty of time.

I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder as I head into the Dunkin' Donuts center. I check in with the head trainer, Mark Diabella.

"You must be Kylie Matthews, it's very nice to meet you," he says warmly, shaking my hand.

"I am. It's nice to meet you as well," I say, being very businesslike. "Thank you for letting me work with your team during preseason."

"Oh, it's no problem. I hear you're making quite the splash up in Boston."

"Apparently I am. How was your team after the second part of training camp?"

He laughs before responding. "Very, very sore, and very much in awe. I don't think they quite expected a girl to give them such a beating."

I smile at that. "No one ever does."