Page 41 of The Tryout

The game in Milwaukee goes well and we end up winning 3-1. Two of those goals are mine, which is still a little shocking to me. Last year, I spent most of my time on the third line, trying to run time down and keep the puck on the right end of the ice. This year, I’ve been on the second line and putting up first line stats.

I still have trouble believing it, believing that I can be the one making these plays. But then, I hear Avery’s voice in my head, asking What’s the worst that happens?

Rooming with Avery is nothing like rooming with Briggs last year, which comes as no surprise. He’s exactly the same Avery I see at home – polite, funny, kind. We get into a rhythm, with me running to the ice machine while he showers after each game. And still, each time he looks surprised when he finds the bag of ice waiting for him on the bed. The smile he gives me is more than worth the effort.

We drop the first game in Rockford 1-0, largely thanks to Briggs screening our goalie more effectively than any other team has so far this season. After the game, Banks reams him out in front of the entire locker room, something I haven’t seen yet in my time with the team.

On the bus back to the hotel, I lean over to ask Avery about it.

“Is Banks usually like that with the d-men? He’s always seemed so…calm, I guess.”

Avery shrugs.

“I mean, I’ve been here for about two and a half seconds, but no. He tells things like they are, but usually not quite at that volume.”

My eyebrows raise.

“But I get it. He’s constantly on Briggs in practice over his conditioning, telling him there’s plenty of other people who’d love his spot. And the kid’s never paying attention during tape review. Makes sense that he’d fuck up a play sooner or later.”

He’s not wrong. When the video coach is reviewing plays or previewing teams, Briggs is usually hiding his phone under the table, swiping left and right. And where a bunch of us will come in on days off for a lift or a little ice time, I can’t say I’ve ever seen Briggs in the facility for a second longer than necessary.

“You know, this is why drafting players is such a risk. It’s hard to tell from what a kid’s like at eighteen how they’ll mature. Part of that is physical – height and weight and muscle mass. And part of it is play style, and how well they’ll adapt to the speed and intensity of the pros. But a whole lot of it is whether they have what it takes to keep up the discipline when they don’t have parents and coaches breathing down their necks.”

Huh. I never really thought about that, I guess. From the time I was twelve, the only person who’s really wanted me to play hockey was me. If I didn’t want to do this, didn’t want the conditioning and practice and discipline, I just…wouldn’t be here.

“It’s the Johnny Manziel effect. Fucking waste of talent. He needs a better agent, honestly. Or maybe he has one and he just isn’t listening to them.”

This confuses me a bit – aren’t agents just for negotiating contracts?

“What…what do you mean?”

“A good agent – by which I mean an agent who wants to keep making money – is gonna protect their investment. Someone’s already put a lot of time into getting Briggs where he is today, and if he doesn’t turn it around soon, it’s going to go exactly nowhere.”

I’d never really thought of it like that, I guess.

“What…what would a good agent do?”

Avery is quiet, and for a moment I think I won’t get an answer out of him.

“If I were to have the misfortune of being Briggs’ agent, I’d probably attack it from two sides. First, I’d have every angle of that kid’s life locked up tight. Maybe a mom or sister to move in with him, a meal delivery service to keep him on the meal plan, a trainer coming to him personally who won’t take no for an answer, and a money manager who wouldn’t give him enough cash on hand for two beers after a game. And on the other hand, I’d be quietly discussing with the League about whether a stint with Player Assistance might be appropriate.”

Huh. I guess I never thought of Briggs as the kind of guy Player Assistance was meant for, but I’d be lying if I said his personal choices weren’t impacting his game.

“That sounds…expensive.”

Avery shrugs.

“Yeah, but probably not as expensive as never seeing NHL ice.”

The next night, Briggs is a healthy scratch for our second matchup against Rockport. Keller’s playing second d-pair with some guy named Mancuzzi who just barely made it onto the roster after two years with the ECHL in Cedar Rapids. His play may not be as refined as Briggs’, but there’s a hunger there that we haven’t seen yet this season from the third-round draft pick.

That also means that Avery and Novak are playing first d-pair, which is frankly where they should have been all season. They’ve really started to gel with one another, and it’s resulting in more stripped pucks and better scoring setups.

I’m on the receiving end of one of those setups, managing both a one-timer from the blue line and, later, a wraparound goal. Robby also gets a flukey goal in the third, and we’re happy to be able to answer yesterday’s loss with a solid 3-0 win.

In the locker room, the guys decide to go out for a celebratory beer. I can see that Avery really wants to join, but I also know he’ll avoid it if he thinks I’ll be sitting alone at the hotel without him.

“Why don’t we join them?” I ask, easily able to come up with twenty valid reasons why I don’t want to be at a bar tonight.