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And I’m not going to get there by wasting my time with those people in there.
I hop in a taxi and tell the driver to take me to the Hyenas training facility. Maybe if I had put in some extra time, I would have made that shot tonight. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to pass the shot off to Harris.
That’s not going to happen again. I vow it to myself.
I text Nolan that I had to leave and then like fate is steering me on, I find a business card between the seats.
Norah Ellison Reality.
Let me help you find your dream home.
Her face is covered by the huge blue moustache and bushy eyebrows someone scratched on with a pen.
This can’t be a coincidence. Right?
I’m going to call her first thing tomorrow morning.
I arrive at the training facility and suit up in the locker room. This place is amazing and it’s open 24/7 to the players. We have a sauna, the best gym I’ve ever seen, and three skating rinks. I strap up my skates and head to the main one.
Harris is already out there practicing his slap shot.
“Shit,” I whisper, backing away. What’s he doing here? It’s after midnight.
“Gambill,” he calls out when he spots me. “Come on over.”
I take a deep breath and skate over.
“I thought you were out with the boys,” he says as he lines up some pucks.
“I was,” I tell him. “But missing that shot was eating at me.”
He smiles and nods like he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
This is the kind of dedication I’m missing. The kind of focus I need. This man has had an amazing career and probably only has a few dozen games before he retires and he’s still out here past midnight working on his craft.
I’ll never slack off again.
“Let’s see what you got.”
He glides out of the way, leaving me the row of pucks.
I skate up to them, take a deep breath, and let them rip one at a time.
I sink three, miss two, and hit the bar on the last one.
“You’re in your head too much,” he says as he watches me. “I see it in your eyes.”
“See what?”
“You’re overwhelmed by it all. The crowd noise, the pressure, the lights, the fame, the media, the partying. It’s taking away your edge.”
“It has been a lot.”
He sighs in understanding. “I’ve been there, kid. Being the first draft pick. It weighs on you.”
It does. I’ve felt the pressure like a weight on my chest since I signed the contract.
“How do I get past it?”
