Page 215 of So This Is War
I twist my lips to the side. I’m getting really fucking sick of this bullshit.
“Are you done?” I ask.
“We are,” Eli says. “Good game tonight, Coach. Shame our leadership couldn’t enjoy it.”
They turn around and walk away.
When the hell did I start losing the respect of my players?
I pause, the question sounding off in my head. What the fuck did Posey say to them?
What did he tell them about my relationship with my daughter?
They probably perceive me as an angry tyrant. But they don’t know the whole story.
No one knows the whole fucking story.
I’m not in the wrong. I know I’m not . . .
“Hey Coach, can I join you?”Pacey Lawes says as he stands next to my chair on the plane.
I look up at him, knowing exactly what this will be about.
“Don’t want to hear it,” I say.
“It’s about my retirement,” he says.
When I look up at him again, he lifts my bag from the seat next to me and sets it in the aisle as he sits.
I knew this was coming, but why would he address this on our way to Nashville on an airplane?
He rests his head against the headrest and says, “I’m barely holding on, Coach Wood. The pain is starting to take over, and every day, I wake up more and more stiff. I still have headaches on occasion that are absolutely debilitating. There are days when I feel like I can’t put on my gear one more goddamn time.” He looks over at me. “I can’t do this for another year. This is . . . this is it for me.”
I swallow, knowing this will be a huge loss to the team. Lawes has been our backbone, our foundation, some might say the start of something great. With him in front of the goal, we’ve had more championship wins than in franchise history.
“I can respect your decision,” I say. “But if you’re in this much pain, why haven’t you said anything?”
“Because I’ve been able to power through,” he answers. “But not because of sheer will.” He looks me in the eyes. “Because of Posey.” Motherfucker. I look away, but Pacey keeps talking. “He’s the one who stays in the ice baths longer with me so I’m not alone. He’s the one bringing me all kinds of vitamins and powders to help me with recovery. He’s the one who checks on me at night when we’re on away trips to make sure I don’t have a headache or to make sure I have everything I need to wake up fresh the next day. I know you think of me as the backbone of the team, but the fact of the matter is, Posey is the one who keeps us together. And it’s about fucking time you realize that.” He rubs his hands together and says, “And your daughter . . . she’s so talented. She’s intelligent. She has a good head on her shoulders, and the fact that she fell for a good man shows that. He’s a solid man. A man you can trust.”
“Trust?” I shoot back, losing my patience. “A man I can trust? If I can trust him, then why did he go behind my back and date my daughter?”
“I can’t answer that for him,” Pacey says. “But what I can say is that Posey has a reason for everything he does. You might not agree with it, but there is a reason. Maybe you should ask him. Maybe you should give him a second to explain what happened. That’s what good leaders do, after all. Right, Coach? They listen.”
He stands from his seat but doesn’t leave. Instead, he leans in again and says, “You’re the best coach I’ve ever played for. You’re a smart man, and you have the kind of drive that gets hisplayers moving. Don’t fuck that up over this. We respect you, but the way you’re treating Posey and your daughter? That’s causing a lot of players to lose their respect for you.”
He pats the back of the chair and then takes off.
I look away, focusing on the clouds out the window, his words registering harder than any of the other ones said to me.
“But what I can say is that Posey has a reason for everything he does. Maybe you should give him a second to explain what happened. That’s what good leaders do, after all. Right, Coach? They listen.”
Fuck. I’m not blind. I’ve seen everything these boys have mentioned about Posey. On and off the ice. But I refuse to ignore his blatant disrespect, his lies about what he was doing behind my back with my daughter.Why should I?
But . . . to be called out for not being a good leader.
That hits hard.
Harder than I want it to.
