Page 35 of The Tryout

“No, you don’t need to overnight it, Dad. I’ll just pick up a spare set here, it’ll be fine. It’s still warm, I won’t even need a comforter. Which one are you sending? No, not that one, the other one. Okay. Love you, bye.”

Ah, right. Avery has parents, loving parents by the sound of it. His league-minimum salary isn’t paying for this cart. Or maybe it is, but it’s not also stretching to pay for rent and insurance.

I feel my eyebrows scrunch together and try to keep a full scowl from showing on my face.

“Sorry, wanted to check on something with my dad. Let’s go grab some extra sheets.”

Wordlessly, I follow behind him, this man who has no idea how good he has it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AVERY

After our weekend off, Monday morning brings us right back to the grind of practice. As Banks starts to dig into our overall defensive strategy with us, I’m thrilled to find he’s pairing me up with Tomas Novak again. After rotating through most of the guys during training camp, I feel like I have a good sense of who I’d play well with, and Novak is definitely my first choice.

A veteran with years of NHL experience under his belt, he’s finishing out the final few years of his contract here in Des Moines. Knowing that, I’d expected someone jaded or even angry to be here. While he certainly is a bit gruff, I’ve found him to also be a consummate professional and easy to work with.

The same can’t be said for Calvin Briggs, one of the Huskies’ draft picks from last year. Ever since that first day of practice when he was winded by some simple laps, I’ve been dreading being paired with him. His attitude has been about as good as his summer conditioning work, but a signed two-way contract will do wonders to keep a guy around. For now, he’s paired off with Stefan Keller, a German 27-year-old who moved from the DEL to the AHL in the middle of last year.

Keller doesn’t exactly seem happy with the pairing, and I can hardly blame him. I make a promise to myself that I’ll do whatever is necessary to stick with Novak.

While I’m pretty happy with my pairing, I’m not sure the same can be said for Finn. In fact, I’m not sure it can even be said he has a set spot. They keep bouncing him around in practice; first as the third line right wing, where he spent most of last year, then on the second line, where they try him at both wing and center.

The fact of the matter is that he should without a doubt be on the first line, based on what I’ve seen, but that would involve breaking up Markie and Robby, who’ve played together for the last two years.

Now, maybe if they tried him at center there…

I shrug off the distraction, taking my turn in the passing drill Banks is running. It’s similar to one we used to run at UCLA, and I find my mind sinking into the work, listening for the sound of Novak’s skates on the ice beside me. I drop the pass toward the sound, connecting perfectly.

With a blow of his whistle, Banks gives us a water break.

“Hey kid, you settling in okay? Got a place to live and all that?”

The voice, I realize, is Novak himself. Part of Operation Keep Novak has been speaking to him as little as possible, especially when he has a specific annoyed look on his face. And so far, it’s been working. Today, though, he seems pretty chill, so I figure it’s worth the risk.

“Yeah, living with Murphy. He had a room after Poulin got traded.”

From a few feet away, I hear Briggs snort.

“Fuckin’ weirdo.”

I pin him with a glare, ready to come to Finn’s defense, but find I don’t need to.

“Yeah, he’s a real fuckin’ weirdo for doing his fucking job instead of drinking his way through every bar on Court. Jesus, kid, fuck all the way off.”

I’m a little taken aback by both Novak’s defense of Finn and his broad vowel sounds, until I remember he spent a lot of his early career, fresh off the plane from Slovakia, playing in Boston.

Briggs rolls his eyes, but does in fact fuck off, skating over to the bench to retape his stick.

“Can’t stand that guy, thought for sure I’d be stuck with him this year. Thank fucking God.”

A wave of relief washes over me, happy to hear that Novak is pulling for this to work out as much as I am.

“You take good care of Murph, okay? He’s good people. Just a little shy. And in thanks for not having to put you up in our guest room, my wife and I will have you both over for dinner sometime, okay?”

“Sounds great, man.”

Before we can chat anymore, Banks’ whistle blows again, and we head back to work.