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We stand in silence for a few seemingly endless moments.
“Nice road trip,” I say. Of course, I am a hockey fan. I grew up in Minnesota and had a superstar player for a brother. I’ll admit to tuning into games that involved the man standing before me now, too. I’ll admit it to myself. But I stopped attending games in person seven years ago. I was always welcome to come, but never did. It was hard not to be in Denver for the Championships. But I didn’t do it. It even became difficult to watch them on TV, because of the man in front of me now. The man making my pulse race.
This last road trip I watched every second of every game, including the pre- and post-game shows on the very slim chance that maybe I would glimpse Davey in the background somewhere. That never happened.
He smiles. “It was.”
“How is Nic doing?”
Davey shrugs and shakes his head again. He let his eyes sweep across the entrance to the building before speaking. “He isn’t recovering from games like he used to, not games where he takes a beating like he did in Tampa. I think we took his resilience for granted. And because we’ve had him, we filled the defense with a lot of speed and finesse. Guys like Travis and not another big man.”
“Oh, knowing you, I’m guessing you’ve already lined up some players to check out,” I smile at him. I do know him. At least I know how seriously he takes his job. I know how good he is at it, too. I know Brady has relied heavily on his eye for talent ever since they started working together.
“Maybe a few,” he smiles back at me, making me realize what a rare sight that is. “Nic also seems a bit in denial of his age and the years of beatings he has taken. We’re trying to tread lightly for now.”
More silence, but each pause grows less uncomfortable.
“When do you plan to pour ice?” He asks, and tips his chin toward the building again.
“Couple weeks, I think. Possibly less, fingers crossed.” I look at him. “Have you been inside yet?”
He shakes his head.
I motion for him to follow me. He tip-toes around the wet cement to the areas that are already dry and follows me in.
“This building has more of me in it than any I’ve ever done,” I chuckle, and hold the door open for him. “However, you might not see that as a good thing.”
“It’s a very good thing,” he says it so quietly, I’m not sure he realizes he said it out loud. Certainly, he didn’t intend for me to hear it.
Fuck. I think. What the hell happened on that road trip?
It doesn’t take me long to lose myself in giving the tour. This is the first time I’ve really been able to do a walkthrough on my own, too. There is a lot of me inside this building. And for the first time in a very long time, looking around, I feel proud. The arena is, of course, the centerpiece, and it is nice in its newness, but it is, when push comes to shove, only an oval of ice with required dimensions and boards and plexiglass and seats. Not much for creativity to be found there.
But I put my stamp on the offices and meeting rooms that surround the rink and will connect to the second and third rinks of this complex. The dressing rooms mimic the ones at the main arena downtown. Open lockers line a round, brightly lit room, with larger than normal benches fronting each one. There is a theater for meetings and game film review and there is also a room off of each dressing room for the same purpose.
There is a pair of well-stocked training rooms with bikes and rowers and weights and bands and yoga mats and a half-sized soccer goal… yep, I put a small area for goofing around with a soccer ball. That seems to be everyone’s favorite way to warm up in the hallway at the main arena prior to games. So, I thought including one here would be a good idea, too.
The Grizzlies practice arena obviously screams Colorado Grizzlies with that menacing bear and the varying shades of deep and icy blues resonating throughout the building.
The blue color theme underlines the tones here too, but much more subdued with subtle nods to varying Marvel universe realms that I don’t expect many people to notice. The floors in the halls look like the Asgard Bifrost bridge to the castle, and when the doors to the rink are closed, the outline of the castle forms in a very subtle outline of gold. It’s barely noticeable, but fun if you catch it.
Which, of course, he does. He’s known Devyn for a long time now, and they all seem to have fun indulging her Marvel madness. They gripe about it first, but Devyn always gets her way. I loved Brady’s late wife, Casey, but Devyn has always been Brady’s first love. Back in college, I arrived home a day too early from my college-transfer-scouting trip to Boston. Brady had just been drafted and I discovered them in bed together at my apartment in St. Paul.
She’s always brought out the best in him. I doubted he would ever love again when she refused to go to Edmonton with him all those years ago. And Levi, he would move heaven and earth for that woman… for both of them. I’m just honored to have been part of making this dream come true for them.
“I find it really hard to say this without sounding condescending, but I’m really proud of you. Maybe impressed is still the better word. You’re very good at this.”
I bite back a smartass remark. I don’t really even have one, but I have trouble with compliments. To have one like that coming from him… “There is a lot of Levi in this building, too.”
Davey smiles. It’s true, though. Levi had a vision… an incredible vision of a hockey compound. A group of rinks akin to a tennis compound. A place for kids to learn, for college teams to train, for National Teams to flourish. I’m just fortunate enough to have translated it into a reality for him.
“But thank you. I appreciate the compliment.”
“Thank you for the tour,” he says.
We walk out of the building in a somewhat comfortable silence. A crackle of something between us. Something. That something is not anger. Not hatred. We are already across the street when Davey laughs. “Did we just… it’s been like more than an hour and I’ve not had the desire to punch you even once.”
I shake my head. “Hmm…”
