Page 17 of While You Were Trending

I pause as I reach the banquet hall, leaning against the stone wall, and watch two of the caterers, who are back today, take down chairs with Ginny’s brother.

Something about that feels odd too. “People like watching me fail more than they like watching me succeed,” I tell my friend.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says.

“I didn’t say I’m failing. I said people likewatchingme fail. You either have to fail or you have to be thebest. That’s what gets the views. Easier tolooklike I’m failing at shit I haven’t done before than it is to look like I’m the best at it.”

“Anyone calls you a failure, you let me know. Including you. I’ll kickyourass for it too.”

And that’s why the guy’s my best friend.

We give each other shit, and he’s always been a better hockey player than I was, but the dude’s believed in me since the day we met.

Often more than I believed in myself.

Being second best—it’s always been my thing. Graduated second in my high school class. Always second line—or third or fourth as my career went on—in hockey. The guy that she would’ve dated if someone better hadn’t asked her out the day before.

Once would’ve been a fluke.

But it’s happened at least a half dozen times.

See again—I got a documentary deal, but it’s low-budget with limited expectations and an inconsequential subject matter. Meanwhile, I hear Zeus Berger keeps turning down seven-figure offers for documentaries and reality series about his post-hockey life raising quadruplets with his badass CEO pilot wife.

And Alex pulled in six figures for being on three episodes of a behind-the-hockey-scenes documentary two years ago.

He’s bound for the Hall of Fame, but he still treats me like I’m just as good as he is.

“Nobody’s calling me a failure,” I tell him.

“Including you?”

“Including me.”

“You sure?”

“Got three sponsorship offers last week.”

“For real?”

Legit question.

Once again going back to me always being second best.

Despite the number of brands and companies that showed interest in endorsement and sponsorship deals during my pro days, I was always the guy they’d call if their first choice fell through.

And it never did.

But now, I’m getting sponsorship offers.

I get recognized in public.

Dozens of messages land every day from fans wanting me to come to their town and learn to do something they learned from their grandparents, or to spend a day as a chef in their kitchen—that’s a popular request—or to come be the boss of their company for a day.

“For real,” I tell Alex. “Turned one down.”

“Tell me you didn’t rob Flow of the opportunity of a lifetime because of your ego.”

I smile at that. “I haven’t turned down any offers for my dog.”