“You definitely still have me.” He put his arm around my waist. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Likewise.”
Now the really fun part—the press conference.
It never ceased to amaze me how fast something like this could be arranged. Just a handful of hours after our sitdown with Emil, after Devon had practiced with his team, there we were, sitting behind a table in front of a Vancouver IceHawks backdrop. I sat between Devon and Emil, each of us with a microphone, as reporters settled in.
Blinding lights gleamed. Camera lenses reflected our faces. Reporters stared like vultures waiting to descend on a carcass.
They’d already been briefed on the situation. I’d been relieved of my duties as head coach of the Abbotsford Grizzlies due to my relationship with Devon Jarvis, which the club had deemed“inappropriate in light of the power dynamics between Mr. Showalter and Mr. Jarvis.”The club had released a statement stating,“While we support LGBTQ+ players and staff members, romantic and otherwise non-professional relationships between players and coaches is against Vancouver IceHawks policy.”
To say the reporters were primed and ready to grill us would be an understatement.
Vancouver’s PR director, Leila, introduced us, which seemed kind of redundant at this point, and then opened up the floor for questions. No one hesitated. The questions started out fairly tame, like sharks taking little nips to decide if and where they’d really bite.
“How has this relationship affected your on-ice interactions?”
“Was the rest of the team aware of this relationship?”
“Devs was called up to Vancouver during this relationship. How can anyone be sure his involvement with Coach Showalter didn’t influence this?”
To my surprise, Emil answered that one: “I did consult Coach Showalter before sending Devs to Vancouver, but the decision was already ninety-nine percent made. There isn’t another defenseman in Abbotsford who can rival his stats or his hockey IQ. Truthfully, my only concern with sending him up was that I’d never get him back.”
That prompted a ripple of quiet laughter.
I pulled my microphone closer. “I think Devon’s performance in Vancouver speaks for itself, too. Even if I had pulled all kinds of strings and tried to influence the decision,there’s nothing I can do once he’s on the ice.” I gestured at Devon. “He’s earned his stripes.”
Nods all around. I stole a glance at Devon, and he was blushing bright, but he offered up an adorable smile.
The questions continued, and they were starting to sink their teeth in a little deeper. One came right out and asked if it was truly necessary to fire me when this was clearly a relationship between consenting adults. Surely, they insisted, my hockey talents meant the club could still keep me insomecapacity.
“The truth is that Jack had already tendered his resignation with the Vancouver IceHawks’ club.” Emil sighed. “Under the newly revealed circumstances, we felt it was appropriate to move up that timeline.”
“But is there still room for Mr. Showalter to be involved with the team?” the reporter pressed. “It seems like a waste of valuable talent and skill that could benefit future Vancouver IceHawks’.”
Emil turned to me.
I leaned forward to speak into the microphone. “I’m always willing to work with players and help them develop. With the current concerns that there was an abuse of power—that I took advantage of my authority over a younger player—I can understand why there might be reluctance to keep me in a position to work with those players.”
Another hand shot up. Blood in the water.
“If youweren’tabusing your power as a coach,” that reporter asked pointedly, “howdidyou come to get involved this way with a player? Especially one so much younger than you?”
Devon spoke before I could. “We were involved before either of us knew he was my coach.”
That gave everyone pause.
Devon glanced at me, then faced the crowd with a cocky little smirk. “There was no power being abused. I had no idea who he was. He had no idea who I was. We were just a couple of guys who really,reallyclicked.”
I had to laugh at that, and… hell. We were out. Why hide anymore? I put my hand on his on the table. He smiled as he turned his hand over and laced our fingers together. I was pretty sure some cameras snapped at that, and I didn’t mind.
“Mr. Tiller,” another reporter said to Emil, “how do you foresee Mr. Jarvis’s future with this club?”
“There’s really no predicting until we sit down at the negotiation table, which we will after this season concludes.” Emil glanced past me at Devon, and he actually smiled before facing the flock of vultures. “But given his performance over these recent weeks, I foresee a future in Vancouver if he wants it.” He paused and chuckled. “Toronto’s loss is our gain, it seems.”
The reporters laughed, and the questions were gentler after that. Now that we’d shut down the idea that our relationship was predatory, they seemed much more interested in asking about hockey and what the team would look like going forward. When Emil announced that Amy would be replacing me as head coach, they were all very interested inthatparticular tidbit of news. Suddenly everyone was vibrating with excitement, frantically tapping away at their phones as if they were racing to be the first to break the news about the first female head coach in the League.
That was fine by me. From the way Devon was slowly relaxing beside me, he wasn’t objecting either.