“Maybe because they watched your dad play. Maybe because they think you have a lot more to give this sport. Did you ever think of that?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Roll your eyes all you want, Dakota—that video just proved them right.” He grabbed a fistful of his greying hair. “What were you even thinking?! Why were you out that late with our season on the line?”
Truth is? I didn’t really know.
“I guess I couldn’t sleep,” I murmured.
He scoffed. “Couldn’t sleep. So you went boozin’ and sniffin’ around for women, and hurt your knee before the biggest game of the year. Unreal.”
“My knee was fine.”
“You werehobbled,Dak. You limped into the locker room like a wounded animal.”
“And then the trainer gave me a shot of Toradol and hey, guess what, I was as good as new. By the way, you know what’s bullshit?” I pointed at the newspaper. “For all the words that guy wrote, he somehow never mentioned the fact that I scored our only goal. But I guess that’d go against the narrative, huh?”
“We lost, Dak. Our season isover.”
“Sure. But I still scored. So why am I getting all the blame?”
His palm met his forehead. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“What I get is that the fans need a scapegoat. Am I really the reason we lost that game? No. If we win that game? No one even cares about the video. It’s a total nothingburger.”
“But that’s notwhat happened. We lost. And soeveryonecares about the video.”
A silence came between us.
Killer’s chair creaked as he leaned back, and when he spoke again, his tone had softened. “I wouldn’t normally tell a player this. But I feel like you need to understand exactly where you’re at in your career.”
I raised a curious eyebrow.
“Dak.” His eyes darted to the phone on his desk. “I’ve been on the phone all morning long, trying to move you.”
I recoiled, surprised. “C’mon—really, Killer? You’re serious?”
He nodded.
My heart sank. Yeah, I’d messed up, but I didn’t think it wasthatbad.
“Unfortunately, trading you is easier said than done. Every GM in the league now thinks you’re a locker room cancer. And even if they wanted to trade for you? They’re so afraid of the backlash from their own fans, they need me to sweeten the deal.” He stared at me, long and hard. “Understand what I’m tellingyou? You are now a toxic asset in this league. You havenegativetrade value. I have topayteams to take you.”
I hung my head. It sucked to hear there wasn’t a single team interested in me, even when the price to acquire me was at an all-time low.
“Which puts me in a horrible position,” Killer continued. “Suppose I trade you for a bag of pucks, because that’s all anyone’s offering. If, one day, against all odds, you finally pull your head out of your ass and turn your career around? ThenI’mthe guy that gets carved up in the media because I sold low on a former first-round draft pick with a Hall of Fame bloodline. Your stupid little bull ride could end up costing memyjob.”
“So don’t trade me,” I said meekly.
Killer shook his head solemnly. “Truth is, even if I wanted to bring you back next year? It’s not up to me anymore.”
“Who’s it up to?”
He pointed skyward. “The big guy.”
I gulped. “Mr. Capuano?”
“The owner himself,” Killer nodded.
