Page 12 of Off Side
SAM
The meeting with the assistants went much better than expected. My grandfather had talked about me to them in much greater detail than I ever imagined. As far as they were concerned, I was an extension of Tom and they were vaguely aware of his weird final wishes and respected him enough to make sure I could follow through with it without issue. At least that’s what they have said to my face. We shall see if that extends to their actions.
Both men are polar opposites, though. Nixon Blackwell is forty-three and an early silver fox. He is single and has the kindest eyes. He is the father figure to these players, giving the kind ear and shoulder to keep them in line and make sure they stay on course in school as well as hockey. He hugged me upon meeting and set me completely at ease. The other assistant, although supportive, was going to be a tougher nut to crack. Michael McNeely was in his late fifties and lives for this hockey team. He never puts himself first and lives and breathes the team. He is single and to be honest, he is so intense, he is setting off the alarm bells and a small amount of panic is rising inside me.
“Sam, we’re here to help you in any way you need. We know Tom would never have appointed you if he didn’t have faith in you. Just tell us how you want to proceed going forward.” Nixon said as he smiled warmly, pulling out a chair at the meeting table for me.
“Thank you, Nixon. I’m not sure how I want to go ahead just yet. I will know more after speaking with Mr. Burns later today. I do know I only want to do what will be best for the team and cause the least interruptions.”
“The least interruptions, Ms. Maxwell, will be the one that doesn’t take the attention of the players off the game and onto something, or someone else,” Michael said as he sat across from and gave me a pointed look.
“Please, call me Sam. Michael, I know you mean well but I don’t want to rush into any decisions right now. I wanted to meet with you both to see where the team is at and how you see us going forward before I made any decisions. Today is for information gathering and we will meet again to make sure we agree with where I want the team to go.” I can sense he may have an issue with the whole female in his space thing. I wanted to stand up right away to let him know that I was now in charge. Just because he respected my grandfather doesn’t mean he will instantly respect me.
“Okay, Sam. What I want is for nothing to change except the name I report to. I don’t want any attention brought to the new female coach. I think it would throw the players off their game to know they play for you now.”
Wow, Michael just put it out there right off the bat. Good for you, old guy. You live in the dark ages, but good for you.
Nixon interrupts before I can respond, “What he means, Sam, is we are slightly concerned media will sensationalize the changes in the organization and distract the players. We want to keep as much to the routine for them as possible.” He smiles at me and squeezes my shoulder.
I inhale a large breath to steel myself for what I know will come next. “I hear you both, I do. But let me be clear, I am the one in charge. I expect to look to you for advice when I need to make decisions, but I will not be a door mat for anyone, player or coach. When we make our final decisions, we will meet with the team and decide as a group how to handle any media coverage together. I don’t want any of us to fail or to not get along here. I love hockey, I have a wealth of experience to bring to it. Depending on what Mr. Burns tells me today, it may change how I want to approach this, but ultimately, it’s not just the players that form the team. The management and coaches are also a part of that. Let’s at least agree to be a team, shall we?”
Nixon smiles widely and slaps me on the back like I am one of his buddies. “Totally agree, Sam!”
Michael peers at me with a silent assessing gaze. He offers his hand to me across the table. “Okay, Sam, deal…for now.”
I internally sigh with relief and give my first management request, “Before we meet tomorrow, can you please send me over a copy of the practice schedule and who the trainers and coaches are for that?”
Nixon nods and rises. “Yes, I can get that to you today, Sam, no problem.” After that he says his goodbyes and leaves. Michael stands as well, gives me a curt nod, and leaves me alone in the conference room.
I clunk my head on the table feeling a panic attack rearing its head. I have to make it through the appointment with Mr. Burns before I can freak out, though. Just a few more hours and I can have a melt down.
Preferably in private.
