Out of The Blue

Chapter 25

It was like he expected me to vehemently oppose the suggestion, which I understood. The league, while vocal about caring for the players' best interests, had only really started to put a focus on mental health over the last couple years. Many guys, especially veterans, didn't completely see the need for it because they'd been in the same routines for so long. Year after year of goals, injuries, and everything in between. But that wasn't me. I was open to anything that would help with my game play, and after the therapy sessions I'd gone to with Bowen, I was all for continuing that work in Boston.

"Sure thing, Coach," I replied. "I was actually seeing a therapist the last couple of weeks with Bowen out in Maine to talk about his parents while being in the presence of someone who was an expert on handling grief. Do you think any of the therapists the team is recommending would be able to accommodate family sessions?"

I was convinced I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes at my response. "I'm sure they do, but if none of these options do—" He slid a sheet of paper with seven contacts on it across his desk. "—just let me know. I can get the people upstairs to dig a little more to get you someone who fits your needs."

"Great. I'll make some calls later this week."

"Sounds good," he said. "And now for the second thing." He paused, trying to figure out the best way to approach whatever he wanted to say. "How much do you know about the players the team selected in the draft?"

My brows furrowed slightly at the shift of topic. "Not a whole lot," I admitted. "I go cold turkey with social media during the off-season, and with everything that was going on, I stuck to that. Some of the guys messaged me a bit, saying some of the prospects looked good, but I didn't go digging into any of them. Why?"

"Well, I'm assuming none of them mentioned this to you," he said, trailing off momentarily and adding to the anticipation, "but we drafted a goalie."

A mild alarm bell went off in the back of my mind. "Oh."

"He was a pickup early in the third round, so not top-priority to the front office, but certainly someone who showed a lot of potential and could fit into our roster, especially with the things that were up in the air during the draft in July," he said matter-of-factly, referencing the fact that, at the time, I was still unsure of if I'd be returning for another season, and the team had known it.

I found myself fiddling my thumbs nervously. "What's his name?"

"Dominic Tremblay," Coach responded, "and before you start to worry, I have to say, don't. While he impressed the scouts while playing hard up in the Quebec league and put up some good stats the past two years, he'll still need a lot of work to get to be the caliber of player you are."

The tensions in my body immediately dissipated at his words. "Okay, then what does him joining the team have to do with me?"

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you how up and down our back-up goalie situation was the last couple of years," he stated, and I shook my head with a slight cringe. While most teams tried to keep a constant back-up goalie on the bench, the Knights had been having issues finding the right guy. The ones we'd recruited had rotated back down into the development league too often, so when they were called up, they weren't as prepared for The Show as they needed to be. We couldn't find somebody to stick. To be able to step in when I had to rest during back-to-back game days, or in the rare case when I got injured. "With Tremblay, we think he could be a solid next guy up. He has the skills down pact, and being on the ice with you these next couple of years, we think when the time comes, he'll be someone the team can rely on moving forward."

"So, what you're saying is you want me to coach the new guy?"

Coach nodded. "Coach him, show him the ropes, let him learn from you—whatever you want to call it. You're one of the best in the net, Nyberg, but you won't be around forever, and we'd like for the next guy up to be able to learn from you."