Page 39 of Empty Net
February becomes March one notification at a time.
Names move around the league. A second-line winger to Dallas. A backup goalie to Boston. A defenseman with a worse hip than mine to a team pretending not to know about it. Conditional picks. Salary retained. Future considerations, which is hockey's way of saying nobody wants to admit what a thing is worth yet.
Nobody says my name in the locker room.
That is how I know everyone has heard it.
Jonah talks too much about everything except trades. Cole gets quieter around media. Wes brings bread twice in one week and says nothing about it, which is its own sentence. Luca puts a biscotti on my shelf after morning skate and adds a second one on top of it, stacked neatly like a structural warning.
I eat both.
Isaac Hale watches me when he thinks I cannot see him.
This is unwise. I am a defenseman. I see everything behind the play. I see a rookie pretending not to look at me from three stalls away while tying the same skate lace for ninety seconds.
"Ask," I say.
He startles. "What?"
"Whatever you're trying not to ask."
"I'm not trying not to ask anything."
"Bad lie."
He looks down at his skate. The lace is tied into a knot that will require equipment staff and possibly prayer.
"Are you getting traded?"
There it is. Direct. Terrible. Youthful.
The room around us changes by half a degree. Nobody looks over. Everyone listens.
"Don't know," I say.
Isaac swallows. "Do you want to?"
That question is worse.
Want has never been a useful category in hockey. Need, cost, fit, timing, leverage. Those work. Want is for kids and free agents with multiple offers and men who know what their life looks like after July.
"Doesn't matter," I say.
Cole, across the room, snorts softly.
I look at him.
He does not look up from his tape. "Sure."
One word. Mild. Annoying.
I ignore him, which is the only dignified option.
Isaac keeps looking at me. "It matters if it's your call."
I look back at him.
The kid has gotten better in three weeks. Not polished. Not ready for playoff minutes against a top line unless severalemergencies have occurred and God has a sense of humor. But better. He goes now. Too early sometimes. Wrong sometimes. Fixable wrong. His shoulders have stopped asking permission before every decision.
