Not that I’m stressed, or anything.
Not only is there bad blood between my dad and my grandpa for a whole lotta reasons, I’m not on speaking terms with my brother, JP. That jackhole fuckstick. JP plays for the Southern California Golden Eagles, owned by my uncle Matthew and coached by my dad, who my grandpa recently fired. (That whole shit show is a long story.) The Eagles play out of Long Beach, only a short freeway drive away from Santa Monica, meaning it would be tough to avoid seeing JP.
The rivalry between the Condors and the Golden Eagles in California is legendary. The teams share a market. They both play a heavy, hard-hitting game. Every meet up between them is billed as a “Beach Barn Battle.” But only one team from the Western Conference goes on to the Stanley Cup final.
Years ago, the two teams met in the conference final. The series went seven brutal games and the Condors lost, while the Eagles went on to win the Stanley Cup. That left a lot of bruises and scars…and not just physical ones. Unfortunately, the Condors tanked the season after that, and pretty much every season since. They haven’t even made the playoffs in years.
Ah fuck. The challenge of it yanks at something inside me, making my skin prickle everywhere. The palms of my hands tingle as I toss back the rest of the whiskey. “This is nuts, Grandpa.”
“You’re the one I want. You’ve got the brains, the logic, the common sense…but you also have the passion for the game. You work your ass off, all the time.”
Another uncomfortable truth. I may have been called a workaholic a time or ten.
Then Grandpa says the magic words. “You’ll have complete autonomy to rebuild the Condors as you see fit.”
I sit back in my chair and study Grandpa. While this is enticing, I’m skeptical that he’s going to turn everything over to me.
“There’s something special about you. Lots of people in the league are seeing it. We can do great things together.”
I can’t help but smile as I slowly shake my head. “You’re good.”
“I’m not blowing smoke up your ass.”
Grandpa is known for his colorful language.
“This is serious business,” he adds, his voice gravelly. “You know this team is important to me.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Hockey’s been Grandpa’s whole life. He grew up in rural Saskatchewan, Canada, playing hockey on a pond. He had a long, successful career with the Toronto Maple Leafs, was traded to the Condors where he played three seasons before retiring, and two years after that he bought the team he’d played for. The Condors had a lot of good years, but sure as shit not lately.
Grandpa has four Stanley Cup rings from his time with the Leafs, but that was five decades ago. The Cup has eluded him ever since and I know he wants it one more time. I get it. I’ll never get to hoist the Cup as a player…but I want it, too. So fucking much.
“I don’t make fast decisions.” I meet Grandpa’s eyes.
“I know. You’ll think about it.” He stands. “I’m flying home tonight. Thanks for listening to me.”
I walk him to the door and we shake hands, pulling each other in and giving each other a smack on the back. “Good to see you, Grandpa.”
“You have until Friday to make a decision.”
I snort out a laugh. “Good to know.”
Alone in my apartment, I stand for a moment and draw in a breath. Shaking my head, I let it out and headed to my computer. Where else would I go?
If I’m going to make a life-changing decision, I need data. I need all the facts.
We’re building something great here in Vegas, and I’m a part of that. I could stay here and continue that trajectory. Even though I don’t always agree with everything my boss does. Even though I can clearly see different paths to where we want to go.
Or I could take a risk on a losing team and be the one who rebuilds it into a winner.
I try to ignore the push and pull of excitement and fear, the tug between desire for change and to maintain the status quo. I make decisions based on sound rationale, not emotion. That’s me. Logical. Analytical. Sensible. I gather information, weigh the alternatives, and consider the pros and cons. Emotion shouldn’t come into it. Just feasibility, acceptability, and desirability.
First, I need some extra-strength Tums. And another shot of Crown Royal.
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Game On Page 26