Page 13 of Empty Net
"Before or after the conflict developed?"
"Before. Significantly before."
Alderman's expression does not change, which is worse than if it had. "Have you accessed any medical records since the conflict?"
"I accessed the medical file as part of my initial evaluation. Before the conflict."
"Has anyone else in the organization been made aware?"
"No."
"Is there any coercion or power imbalance I need to understand?"
"The player initiated the contact. But I reciprocated. And I hold evaluative authority over his career, which is why I'm here at 6:45 in the morning instead of pretending this can be managed."
Alderman studies me. The study is not hostile. The study is the assessment of a man who has hired a twenty-nine-year-old to a senior management position and who is now determining whether the twenty-nine-year-old is handling a serious situation with the maturity the position requires.
"I'll need the player's identity," he says. "Privately. And I'll need a written timeline of the professional relationship, the conflict's origin, and any decisions that may have been influenced."
"I'll have the timeline to you today. For the identity, I need to speak with him first."
"Why?"
"Because disclosing his name without his consent would be a second breach of trust in twelve hours. One is enough."
Alderman considers this. Then nods. "Come back today with the name and the timeline. I'll handle the reassignment and loop in compliance."
"Thank you for taking this seriously."
"Thank you for coming to me before this became a crisis."
I leave the office. My hands are steady. My breathing is normal. I am performing composure with the same precision I bring to evaluation reports, and the performance is convincing to everyone except me.
The hours between the GM's office and noon are the longest hours of my career. I draft the timeline. I document every film-room session, every hallway exchange, every evaluation I contributed to before last night. The documentation is thorough and unflattering and honest. The documentation is participation.
Noon. The hallway outside the trainer's room. I wait. Nolan's hip negotiation happens between 11:30 and 12:15. I know this because I know his schedule.
He comes out. He sees me. His face goes still.
The stillness is the face I saw in the hallway two months ago when I told him he was compensating. The face that goes controlled when accurate information arrives.
"I need to tell you something," I say.
"Okay."
"I spoke with the GM this morning. I told him I have a personal conflict that disqualifies me from your evaluation. I didn't give him your name. I didn't give him details. But I need to, and I need your permission."
His face does not change. His eyes do. Something behind the stillness shifts: a recalculation.
"So the GM will know," he says.
"He'll know that I have a conflict involving you. He needs your name so the reassignment is documented and the compliance review has a record. What the conflict is, specifically, stays between us unless you choose otherwise."
"You're telling me someone else is going to know about this."
"One person. In a private, documented conversation."
Nolan is quiet. The hallway is empty. The trainer's room door is closed.
