Chapter Text
.2004.
For anyone sitting around the Hollander kitchen table, there was only one main topic of conversation: hockey.
That Sunday was even more hockey-focused with Gabriel Henri in attendance. Shane had hardly been able to keep still all day with the knowledge his coach would be visiting the Hollander residence for the evening. He'd spent most of the day clock-watching, fussing over every little thing, working himself up over something mundane. All in case Coach didn't like it.
At one stage he'd asked David if he should he put on his suit.
When they finally all made it round the table, the inevitable ensued; hockey, hockey, hockey. It got to a point where David had to keep reminding Shane to stop talking and take a bite or the boy's dinner would have gone untouched.
He’d worked hard on that pasta sauce, Goddammit.
Surely there was only so much hockey talk Gabriel could take, but as per usual, the man had endless patience for Shane's continuous questioning and long-winded anecdotes. Eventually Yuna began to redirect Shane too, sending him into the kitchen for random things; a napkin, some butter. Anything to let Gabriel get in a mouthful of his own meal.
Thankfully they got a longer respite when Shane, excited to show a drill he had found in one of David's old hockey books, ran upstairs to retrieve it. The adults let out a collective exhale, relaxing a bit more into their chairs.
A few minutes peace.
"Sorry Gabriel, I know he's a lot, but you know what he's like when he gets excited." Yuna apologised.
Gabriel waved them off, unphased. "Ah, don't worry about him. He's not doing any harm, plus it's refreshing to be able to talk with one of the kids. Shane gets it, sure, it’s hockey, who cares. These days they can barely look you in the eye, never mind hold a proper conversation."
David nodded. He exactly what Gabriel meant. It’d been something both he and Yuna had tried to instil in Shane from the very beginning. Even with that, Shane still struggled with 'polite conversation'. Still so one-track-minded with rigid black and white thinking. That, and Shane just always seemed a beat behind everyone else, a fraction late to the joke.
Yuna smiled, "Still Gabriel, if you need a break from hockey talk, I can say something to him."
“Well actually, speaking of hockey talk, I got a letter this week about a certain Russian youth player.” Gabriel pulled it out from his pocket and handed it over to an eager Yuna. “Vetrov has him in a training camp over the summer. He’s pushing Rozanov’s father to move him to a boarding school with a hockey scholarship that runs under his direction.”
Yuna clutched the paper to her chest and glanced at the men around the table. “That’s good news, right? Like what happened with the poor Hunter boy last year?”
David had been immediately inclined to agree. It’d always been their hope for Ilya, especially with the news of the St. Thomas Scholarship taking in a young Scott Hunter after the tragic loss of his parents.
Surely this had to be another piece of their fragmented plan from months ago finally slotting into place?
David nodded into his beer. “It sounds good to me.”
He'd remained the more positive of the two of them. Ilya had talent, that much had been obvious, but Yuna had always found it so easy to portray anything and everything related to Russia as some evil entity. She'd been gnawing her nails to the quick, worried for the little Russian boy who had sat at this very same table only a few months ago.
Maybe they'd both been watching too much American TV…
“I won’t respond to the letter. Better to not look too keen. Vetrov is still Russian after all. I don’t want him to get suspicious about my interest in Rozanov." Gabriel gave them a meaningful look. "It’s easy enough to brush off my letter as an old teammate reaching out as a scouting courtesy. I’ve not heard back from the exchange in regard to next year. It looks like that ship has sailed, unfortunately.”
It made sense. No matter how unfair it was.
He risked a glance at Yuna and sighed at the guilt written over her face. He knew she’d been like a bull in a China shop over the organisation of the whole exchange. Yuna had even coordinated a letter campaign to rally the other parents into sharing their complaints with the organisers. Sure, David had agreed with all her points, especially with children involved, but it was hard to think like that now, when Ilya had been returned to the arms of his cold-hearted homeland.
“Thank you, Gabriel. We both really appreciate this and I’m sure Ilya would too, knowing what you’ve done for him.” David patted Yuna's knee under the table. “We’re still looking into other organisations that might take up the mantle and run something themselves. Maybe even get one of the bigger brands in as sponsorship, like CCM or even a charity.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’ve a meeting or two set up with the American Junior League coaches. The AHL have been running their Juniors Championships for a good three years now, and there’s chatter of them opening it to a full continental championship. You know the NHL, they don't want to be second to anything. I also know there will be a European championship next year- Vetrov even mentions it briefly at the end of the letter and it’s on the agenda for the international coaching conference next month. I think getting an International on the cards for the boys isn’t that far away.”
David leaned forward over the table, excited. “The draft organisers would definitely be up for it."
"To be able to size up the internationals a year or two earlier would make it so much easier to suss them out." Yuna agreed.
David felt the excitement bubbling in his chest. "The Bureau’s been talking more about the Olympics now. Fair enough, Turin is set and ready to go, but it’s looking more and more likely we’ll be the ones hosting in 2010. Surely a Junior Worlds would be well supported if we’re hosting the Olympics at the same time. I’ve been making a point to talk with a few of the ministers abo-"
“I’ve got it!”
Shane rounded the corner, book already held open to the correct page. He appeared completely oblivious to the frozen expressions of the adults, his face bright and excited. He made a beeline for Gabriel, pointing out how the cones were set out in some particular setup. David loved his son, he did, but sometimes he had the most horrific timing.
The adults' conversation remained paused for the rest of the evening, never breaching the topic of their previous guest whilst Shane was there. Shane had never really asked any of them about the boy that had stayed in the spare room for the exchange. Instead, he’d remained hyper-focused on his training in Switzerland, obsession over his backhand.
David had been the one to take Shane back to his first regular practice post-exchange, Yuna stuck overlong at a dentist appointment.
When David had ducked into the coaches' office, he'd approached them with Ilya's name on the tip of his tongue. Gabriel, having some sixth sense that all hockey coaches seemed to possess, cut him off at the pass. "Cool your jets, David. Coach Mike and I have already talked about it, and I don't think any of our boys need to know anything about our visitors other than they played dammed good hockey. You know it's always been my approach that sportsmanship comes first. The boys are still young. Better that we not add fuel to any fires, right?"
"Sounds good to me, Coach." David had left it at that but heard the unsaid message underneath. Shane was still struggling to fit in with his peers.
When Gabriel eventually donned his thick, woollen coat at the door, Yuna was already organising a meeting for when he'd be back from the coaches’ conference. He'd done so much for Shane and was going out of his way for Ilya too. Judging by the look on her face, Yuna would be stepping up more now as well, replacing her never-ending worry with calculated actions.
David clapped Gabriel on the shoulder, passing him some leftover panna cotta from dessert. “Thanks for everything, Coach. We appreciate you."
He chuckled, passing David a thick brown envelope that he pulled from the inner pocket of his coat. "I almost forgot about what you'd asked for: the VIP experience." Gabriel winked conspiratorially.
Shane's birthday present: tickets for a suite with a couple of ex-NHL players, Gabriel and Mike to watch the Ottawa Centaurs' first playoff game. He was going to lose his mind.
David had always been hesitant to keep feeding into his son's hockey obsession, but when he'd seen his little boy jumping in the air to cheer every goal with a passionate, Let’s Go! How could David refuse him?
Tucking the tickets into his back pocket, David and his family waved Gabriel off into the night. Yuna tucked into him, stealing his warmth against the cold wind. Shane, on a hockey high, was already making a beeline for the basement.
David kissed his wife's hairline, inhaling her soft scent. She pulled away a moment later, heading to the office, no doubt to work out some plan late into the night.
And David…
Well, he had recon to do.