"First line plays the most ice time. I'm responsible for both ends of the ice, offense and defense. I set up plays, I drive possession, I need to be aware of everything happening on the ice at any given second." He thinks about it. "It's a lot of anticipating the situation before it happens."
"Do you feel like that comes naturally or is it something you've built?"
"Both, maybe? The instinct is there but you have to train it constantly or it goes soft." He tilts his head. "Do you play any sports?"
"This is my interview," I say.
"I know, I'm just curious. Plus, it’ll help me to know how much you understand about sports."
"Ethan."
"I'm engaging with you. That's a good thing in an interview, right? Two-way conversation?"
"An interview has one direction," I tell him. "That's what makes it an interview."
He smiles like I've said something he finds genuinely amusing, and reaches for the coffee that's just appeared on the table. Our food comes out a few minutes later and he eats like someone who's used to burning a lot of calories, which he obviously is. I eat and write and try not to let him turn this into something it isn't.
"Team dynamics," I say. "You've known Knox and the others since you were kids. How does that affect how you play together?"
"Honestly, it makes it easier. I know how Knox thinks before he does something, and he knows how I think. You can't really teach that. Either you trust someone or you don't, and we've been trusting each other since we were a few years old, so." He shrugs. "The rest of the team feels it, too. When the core of your lineup has that kind of history, it sets a tone."
"Do you think that makes it harder to integrate newer players?"
"Good question." He actually looks like he's thinking about it, which I appreciate. "Maybe a little. But the guys we've brought in are good people. You have to be able to read a room to play at this level, and guys who can read a room can usually figure out how to integrate into the team."
I write that down because it's actually a good quote.
"Training schedule," I say. "Walk me through a typical week."
"Skate Monday through Thursday, games on Fridays. Sometimes Saturdays, depends on the schedule. Off days I'm still in the weight room, conditioning, film work." He picks up his coffee. "Hockey doesn't really have an off switch during the season."
"And your major?"
"Sports Management."
"So you want to stay in hockey after graduation."
"I want to stay in sports. Doesn't have to be hockey specifically." He looks at me. "What made you want to be a sports journalist?"
"I'm asking the questions."
"You're also a person. People are allowed to talk to you."
"Not during an interview."
"What about during breakfast?"
"This is an interview that is happening at breakfast."
"Sienna." He leans forward slightly. "I'm going to be your assignment for an entire semester. You're going to be at my practices, my games, we're going to do how many of these interviews?"
"Several."
"Then at some point this has to feel like a conversation and not an interrogation, right? Or the profile's going to read like a Wikipedia page."
He's not wrong, which is annoying. A profile with no real texture is just a list of facts and any competent writer can produce a list of facts. What makes a profile worth reading is the space between the prepared answers, and that space only opens up when someone actually relaxes around you.
I put my pen down. Just for a second.