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“Sure, dude”
“Well, with all due respect, I’m just a bit curious as to how you will approach the up-coming season,
what with another surgery and all the talk that GM Gillis thinks you may be able to come back earlier
than expected.”
I watch Ryan’s face carefully and see a frown begin to crease his
forehead.
“There is speculation that, maybe, you came back a little bit early last
year and that hurt your production – namely your wrist shot,” I
continue.
“You don’t like my wrist shot?” Ryan retorts accusingly.
“Um, no, actually I love your wrist shot. I’m just wondering what you’re going to do to make sure it’s
going to come back.”
“Well, do you know anything about hockey?” Ryan asks. “It’s like riding a bike, dude. My wrist shot will
be just fine. You ask weird questions.”
“O.K., well, do you have some sort of plan or training strategy that will make sure you come back 100%,
and at the right time?”
Ryan Kesler sits up and appears to stare at me through those ultra-dark Ray-Ban sunglasses. “Yes,” he
says, “I do.” He stands, rolls up his giant towel - which takes approximately two and a half
uncomfortable, awkward minutes, and turns to face me. “It was great to meet you,” he says, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. He sticks out his right hand and before I can meet his with mine, he gives a quick
air-shake and turns to leave.
“I’m going to find me a beach that doesn’t talk so much.”
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