“It’s your call, but mental performance coaching isn’t just for athletes. It can help in all aspects of your life, regardless of age or profession.”
I want to push, but it has to be his choice. He came up in the league during a time when mental health wasn’t prioritized, and deep down, I think he knows his entire life might have turned out differently if he’d had the right support network post-injury.
It’s why he was so passionate about providing Knox with the safety-net he never had.
And it’s why, when he finds out we’ve been sneaking around behind his back, he might not be able to forgive us.
29
AVA
My stomach growls,begging for sustenance as I make my way to my office, weighed down by the box of prompted journals I ordered for the team. Over the years, I’ve learned that introspection comes more easily when my athletes can collect their thoughts on paper, and journaling is a great way to teach effective post-performance reflection.
Not all the guys will take the assignment seriously, and that’s okay, but for the ones who truly want to level up, it’s a great tool.
You know what else is great for optimizing performance? Food.
To emphasize the point, my stomach makes an unholy gurgle, reminding me that I skipped breakfast this morning, opting instead for a frothy pumpkin drink that was heavy on sugar and light on nutritional content.
Thankfully, there’s no one else around to hear it.
It’s almost noon, but if I hurry, I can probably hit the taco truck before my one o’clock appointment. I’ve been craving birria tacos all week, and just the thought of that spicy, tender beef has my mouth watering.
“Ava?”
I stop mid-stride and turn to find Ollie Davis standing a few feet behind me, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The Gliders played Columbus last night, and the flight got back late, but even so, he looks like he’s running on fumes. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders are hunched, as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his back.
“Hey, Ollie.” I shift the box, perching it against my hip. “What’s up?”
He glances down the hall, then back at me, eyes wary. “Do you have a minute? I don’t have an appointment, and I know you’re probably busy, but I—” He breaks off, swallowing hard. “I need to talk.”
My heart squeezes at his obvious distress.
Ollie’s skipped his last two individual coaching sessions, so I haven’t had a chance to sit down with him recently, but if he’s ready to open up, I’m ready to listen.
Lunch can wait.
“I’ve got time.” I nod toward my office and hoist the box in my arms, repositioning my grip on the underside. “Come on.”
“Oh, shit.” Ollie leaps forward, extending his hands. “Let me take that. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay.” I smile reassuringly. He clearly has more important things on his mind, and the last thing I want is for him to feel judged. “But I’m not one to turn down help when I need it.”
Hopefully, it’s a trait Ollie and I share.
He takes the box and I lead the way to my office, mentally recounting what I know of him from our coaching sessions. It’s not much. He grew up in the Midwest, he’s an only child, and he’s been playing hockey for as long as he can remember.
He’s always been closed off, stoic. I assumed that was just his way, but maybe there’s more to it.
When we reach my office, I close the door and gesture to an empty corner. “You can put the books over there.”
He does as instructed and then drops into the chair opposite my desk.
The instant his backside hits the plush seat, his knee starts bouncing. It’s the same frenetic energy he struggled to contain during Fear in a Hat.
I settle in behind my desk, keeping my posture open and relaxed. Ollie is twitchy, and the last thing I want to do is spook him when he so obviously needs to talk.
“How are you doing?” I ask gently.