Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Nolan asked if we could meet up at a sports bar near the sandwich shop he works at, so I return a call from my younger brother Heath on my drive there.
“Hey, what’s up?” he says.
“Not much. You?”
He sighs heavily. “I think it’s time to call it, man.”
I shake my head and grip the steering wheel tighter, preparing myself for an argument.
“You’re not quitting,” I say firmly. “Don’t even consider it.”
“Wake up,” he says, aggravated. “I’m twenty-three years old and I can’t even make it onto a minor league team. You’re paying Bobby all this money to train me, and for what? It’s just a stupid dream.”
Every few months, he melts down. And every time, I talk him into continuing. If I’m being honest, it’s not just for him, but for me, too. I can’t live with my guilt over what happened to him, and I’d give anything to make it right.
“It’s a grind, man,” I tell him. “Even in the minors. Even for me. I’m up before sunrise and I’m sore most of the time. I rarely spend three or four nights in a row in my own bed. I get fucking tired. At least once a week, I wish I could eat half a pan of lasagna, drink a six pack, and sleep in.”
Heath scoffs. “Don’t try to make me feel sorry for your life as a pro hockey player. You’re living my dream.”
It hits me like a punch square in my gut. I’d give him my career if I could, without hesitation. He deserves it.
“Look, I’m ridiculously fucking proud of you,” he says, his voice wavering. “But I’m training eight hours a day, and for what? For nothing. You put me through school and got me a degree. It’s time for me to hang it up and go use that degree to get a job.”
“No.” I practically yell the word into the phone. “Bobby says you’ve got the talent. It’s too soon to quit.”
“Yeah, he says that so you’ll keep paying him to train me every day.”
After a moment of silence, I continue pleading with him. “Don’t give up, okay? You’re still young. It takes grit to hang in there and I know you’ve got it in you. Remember what I always say about hockey being ten percent talent, forty percent hard work, and fifty percent refusing to go away.”
He’s living and training in Minneapolis with an outstanding coach, Bobby McCall. So far, none of his efforts to make a minor league team have worked out, but not for lack of trying. I’m frustrated for him, but nowhere near ready to let him quit.
“Hey,” he says, the fight gone from his voice. “You’re all I’ve got, man. You’re my brother. I don’t have anyone else.” He pauses to pull himself together, his tone emotional. “You’ve already given me so damn much, and I just want us to be equals again. Brothers.”
A lump forms in my throat. He’s pulling on my heartstrings hard today, but I can’t give in.
“This is what brothers do,” I say. “They hang in there with each other no matter how hard things get.”
“I’ll never be you, Colby. I wish I could, but”
“You don’t need to be me,” I say fiercely. “You’ve got talent of your own. I know it’s hard waiting for your shot but keep grinding.”
“Yeah, okay.”
I know he’s just doing it for me at this point, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
“Have you guys been doing that drill I sent you the video of?” I ask.
“Every day.”
“How’s everything else going? You seeing anybody?”
“Not really. Bobby’s girlfriend wants to set me up with someone, but I said no because I don’t think I’ll be here…you know, long term.”
He doesn’t think he’ll be there much longer because he’s so close to giving up. It kills me to hear the defeat in his voice. When I first set him up for training with Bobby, he was enthusiastic. He believed in himself as much as I did.
It’s been almost a year, though, and I get his restlessness.
“Can you come to my next game in Chicago?” I ask.
He laughs lightly. “Um, let me check my schedule. Oh, yeah, it’s wide open.”
“I think we’re flying out right after the game, but I can get away for an hour or so during the day if you want to get lunch. And I’ll get you some good seats.”
“I only need one, man.”
“I’ll see you then. Call me if you start to doubt yourself again. We’re in this to win it, remember?”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I know.”
“Go for a run or whatever you need to do to get your head on straight again.”
“Yeah, I will. See you later.”
“Later, man.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mila
“This can’t be happening. I’ve been in this country on a work visa for seven years.”