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“Trust me, the kids are going to lose their minds when they find out they’re meeting Hudson Rome. I’m sure you already know that you’re a lot of these kids’ favorite player.”
That makes me feel good. A foreign feeling erupts in the pit of my stomach. Something that makes me proud.
It’s nice to hear something like that instead of another backhanded comment about my reputation from whatever gossip site they’ve read.
The Playboy Playmaker, can’t take shit seriously, bad boy of the NHL reputation. The one that feels more damning by the second. A reputation that I used to revel in, and now I can’t get away from if it killed me.
“You had more saves than any goalie in the entire league last season. And that shutout against the Rangers? Iconic.”
Relief immediately floods me that my reputation as an athlete is what matters here. “Thanks. That was a really good game.”
“For sure. Uh, I need to drop these off at my office really quickly, then I’d love to give you a tour of the facility and get you squared away with your team and a loose schedule?”
“Perfect.”
She smiles enthusiastically and turns on her heel, motioning for me to follow behind her. As we walk toward the end of the hallway, I notice all of the photos that line the walls. I end up trailing a ways behind while looking, and suddenly she’s next to me.
“That’s Mason Rice. He’s up for the Entry Draft this year, and we’re so proud to have watched him become this incredible player. That’s why we do this. We meet these amazing kids who don’t have the financial means to play hockey, whether it be because they’re in the foster care system or because they’re living with a relative or even because they qualify for low-income subsidizing. We make it happen, and we give them an outlet. All they want is for someone to believe in them and to give them a chance.”
This place is something I can stand behind, without a doubt. Just from hearing her talk about it, admiration shining in her eyes, it seems like a program that I want to be involved in.
“Thank you for allowing me to be a part of it,” I tell her sincerely.
And fuck, do I mean it. I’ve only been here for a few minutes, and I already feel like I have a purpose in being here.
“C’mon, let’s get you ready to go, Coach Rome.”
After spending twenty minutes touring their facility and meeting a few of the other coaches and staff, we walk back to Laura’s office, and I take a seat in the worn chair across from her desk.
Despite the volume of folders that are on it, everything is neat and tidy and seems to be organized.
“So, what do you think?” she says, leaning back in her chair, a teasing smirk on her lips.
I think that maybe Briggs was onto something. That this place is exactly what I was missing, and maybe it’s too early to tell, but for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward instead of backwards.
“I’m ready when you are.”
Leaning forward, she pulls a dark blue folder off her desk and opens it, turning it toward me. “Well, I know when Mr. Wilson volunteered, he had the U8 kids, but right now, we’re full for the younger age brackets. So, you’d be coaching the U14 kids. I know you’ll have less availability once the season starts too, so we’ll also partner you with an assistant coach to help out when you’re away for the NHL.”
Shit. Teenagers? What the hell do I know about teenagers?
My eyes lift to hers. “Should I be scared?”
Laura laughs, shaking her head. “They’re great kids. Some of them have a pretty hard exterior that might take a while to break through, but they’re still amazing kids with so much talent. You’ll be surprised how good some of these guys are.”
I nod, chewing my lip in contemplation.
Can I coach a bunch of fourteen-year-old boys? I barely know anything about kids in general, let alone hormone-infested boys who think they’re men.
“Give it a chance, Hudson. All these kids want is someone who won’t give up on them.”
I may not know shit about kids, but what I do know is that since walking into this building, I’ve felt lighter than I have in months.
“Let’s go meet my team, then.”
4
HUDSON
