Page 4 of The Callahan Effect

His handshake was warm, accompanied by the easy confidence of someone who'd spent years putting new arrivals at ease.

"I'm David Peters. Student-athlete services. Coach Callahan sends his apologies. He's putting the finishing touches on the team's preseason retreat. We leave first thing tomorrow morning for five days before classes begin next week."

"I figured he'd have more important things to do than collect new players."

David chuckled as he lifted my equipment bag into the rear of the SUV with the practiced ease of someone who'd handled thousands of hockey bags over the years.

"He'd probably disagree. Patrick still insists players come before paperwork, but the athletic director occasionally reminds him some meetings are impossible to escape."

The drive toward campus carried us through neighborhoods unlike any I'd known growing up. Wide roads wound around parks and clusters of towering evergreens, while cyclists and runners seemed to appear on almost every street. The city possessed an unhurried confidence that appealed to me from the minute I arrived. Nobody seemed desperate to be elsewhere.

David pointed toward the river cutting through the center of Spokane.

"Most students end up down there once the school year has commenced. Walking trails, cafés, weekend markets. You'll discover plenty beyond the rink if you give yourself the chance."

"I hope so."

He glanced across with an amused smirk.

"Hockey players usually answer that by asking where the nearest gym is."

"I've already checked where it's located."

"So there is hope for you after all."

Conversation unfolded naturally after that, touching briefly on campus traditions, the demands of balancing athletics with study and the expectations placed upon scholarship players. David clearly enjoyed his role, speaking about the university with genuine affection rather than rehearsed enthusiasm.

"Coach mentioned you're studying kinesiology."

"That's the plan."

"Thinking about sports medicine after that?"

"That's the goal. Rehabilitation interests me as much as hockey."

"Smart choice. Professional athletic careers don't last forever."

"My father reminds me of that regularly."

"Wise man."

The lights changed, and we continued toward the university.

As the first sandstone buildings emerged beyond rows of towering pine trees, I felt my stomach tighten again.

Photographs on websites and recruitment brochures hadn't prepared me for the scale of the campus. Historic buildings stood beside sleek glass structures without looking out of place, and broad lawns stretched between them, crowded with students carrying coffee cups, laptops, and boxes as they commenced moving into residence halls ahead of the new semester. Summer-session students mixed with early arrivals for the fall term, giving the campus an energy that suggested it was already waking from its summer hiatus.

Everything appeared established.

Confident.

Evergreen State University wasn't trying to impress visitors.

It didn't need to.

David slowed the vehicle as we approached the athletic precinct.

"There she is."