andy cannon

Jackson I arrived before sunrise expecting to have the gym to myself. I liked the quiet. No coaches. No whistles. No music battling against someone's questionable taste, just the low hum of the ventilation system and an hour where hockey felt uncomplicated. The lights were already on. That gave me pause. As I pushed through the door I found Noah halfway through a mobility routine, one knee on a mat, resistance band looped around his boot as he worked patiently through his hips. He

Noah The first thing I noticed the following Monday was that Jackson wasn't in the gym. Which was ridiculous. There were thirty players in training camp. One of them being absent should not have registered, but it registered. I looked at the clock. Six fifteen. Usually he was already there pretending not to race me through whatever pointless conditioning torture Coach Hayes had invented. I stretched. Waited. Six twenty. Still no Jackson. "Huh." I told myself I

Relationship Repair could be an interesting stat in the box scores of games.

They really are clueless.

Jackson always admired Noah's work ethic and skill, never seeming to harbor any negative feelings. Noah has a distinct competency kink when it comes to Jackson and finds him enormously attractive. However, he doesn't want to examine that too closely and finds it easier to tell himself that he resents Jackson. The truth always bubbles up.

Slowly but surely.

Jackson Media day always felt faintly ridiculous. Professional hockey players liked to imagine we were hardened competitors. Then somebody handed us matching polo shirts and asked us to smile while pretending to discuss insurance. I stood in front of a green backdrop while three photographers debated whether my shoulders were too square. "I think he looks fine." "He looks intimidating." "That's because he isn't smiling." "I am smiling." Three pairs of eyes turn

Noah The video room smelled of burnt coffee and quiet dread. Every team in the league had one. Dim lights. Three rows of seats. A projector that somehow made everyone look guilty. Coach Hayes stood beside the screen with a remote in one hand. Assistant Coach Daniels leaned against the back wall holding a coffee the size of a fire extinguisher. Nobody talked much. Film sessions had a remarkable ability to make grown men regret decisions they'd forgotten making. Hayes presse

Jackson By Thursday morning I'd begun to suspect my rivalry with Noah had become an accepted feature of the organisation. The coaches had stopped intervening unless we looked likely to injure each other. The trainers no longer bothered asking why we'd turned another conditioning drill into a race. Even the equipment staff had begun taking bets. So when Emily from Human Resources appeared hesitantly outside the weight room clutching a clipboard to her chest like body armour, I assumed s

One does wonder about a relationship whose love language involves a penalty box.

Two men whose talent is exceeded only by their egos. Noah is 27 going on 13, no threat of maturity on his horizon yet.

Both scenes are excerpted in short clips on the internet, but out of context they may not live up to the hype.

Jackson The first week of training camp taught me two things. First, the Philadelphia Bobcats' training center had terrible coffee. Second, Noah Lindholm genuinely seemed to want me dead. Not actually dead. Probably. But certainly inconvenienced. I couldn't quite work out why. I understood not being thrilled about the trade. I'd captained Chicago for four years. I'd knocked Philadelphia out of the playoffs twice. We'd spent six seasons competing for the sa

Most of us have jobs we would only do in exchange for a salary. It must be a little surreal to be paid for something that other people do for fun. I remember a passage in North Dallas Forty where one of the characters complained that when they demanded that management treat them better they were told that it was only a game and whenever they wanted to loosen up and have fun, management told them this is a serious business.

At least it's all in good spirit, shenanigans rather than bullying.