Chapter Text
"Where is Mike?" Ilya trudged into the training room, coming over to Mike's usual table.
"Vacation. He's gone to see his new grandkid."
Ilya watched as Greg, another of their massage therapists came over, drying his hands on a towel as he approached.
"Is it your shoulder again? Lay down and I'll work on it."
He turned to lay face-down on the table, face fitting neatly into the hole near at the top. "Mike does it best," he grumbled.
"Yeah well, you know he's retiring soon, right?"
Ilya grunted as Greg began to apply pressure around his shoulder blade. "Yes, of course I know. He always talks about his boring RV he's going to use to see boring trees."
He heard Greg chuckle. "He's sent Roger a list of recommendations for his replacement already. I think they're interviewing next week."
This was news to Ilya. Then again, he didn't exactly keep up with medical team news. "Hopefully they pick someone like Mike. Boring, with good hands."
"Flip over, I'll work on the front."
Ilya turned, closing his eyes as Greg restarted.
"I heard the top pick is a kid from the junior league in Canada. Someone all the teams in Ontario are always calling up."
He frowned. "A kid?" Greg was in his 50's, Ilya was pretty sure. He referred to all of the players as kids — Ilya included. "A kid like I am kid, or a kid like… can't drive yet?"
Greg chuckled. "A mid-twenties kid like you. From what I understand, he's spent all his time since finishing school impressing people in the juniors. A couple players who've turned pro have asked for him, apparently."
Ilya hummed in acknowledgment. They were still in preseason, but after losing the cup last season to the fucking Admirals, the plan was to play hard and win big right from the start. With the regular season games starting soon, he couldn't imagine anyone would have time to train a new guy.
But if this guy was the best — if he was so good that people were requesting him — it was good that Boston was looking to get him. They were the best team; they needed the best people on support.
"How soon is this happening? If they get guy from Canada, he needs visa, yes?"
"I think two of the three Mike is recommending are Canadians — they have an amazing Registered Massage Therapist program there. They do way more hours of training than Americans. But if the Raiders choose one of them, I'm sure they'll be able to fast track a visa. They'd just have to pass the cert test here in Massachusetts. Should be a piece of cake for them."
Ilya pretended to yawn suddenly. "Paperwork talk. So boring. Let me know when new guy gets here, yes? I'll be napping."
Shane waited to tell his parents until he was having dinner at their house at the end of the week.
"So… I've got a conditional offer."
His mom gasped, and he heard her fork clink down onto her plate. "With Boston?"
"Yeah — the Raiders."
"Oh Shane, that's wonderful! They're a great team! So you'd start when? Next season?"
"Actually, they want me this season. Someone's retiring. They've already filed the visa paperwork, and someone's gonna help me register for Massachusetts's licensing exam in a couple days. Once I'm registered I should be able to test over in Toronto, and then the offer's official as soon as they get word that I've passed and the visa's approved."
"Wow," his dad said. "Wow. That's… how long do they expect the visa to take?"
"They said they think they could get it done in five or six weeks."
"Six weeks!?" his mom exclaimed. "They'd expect you to be in Boston in six weeks?!"
"Whenever the visa's approved, yeah. It might take a little longer to get the state license, depending on how fast they process the paperwork, but I could go start getting settled while that's still in process. Once I pass the exam it's pretty much a done deal, we just have to wait for them to review my application and issue the license number."
He heard a chair scrape and knew his mom had got up to pace like she did whenever she was processing information.
"Okay so… you'd move to Boston. It's a great opportunity, it really is. They'd support you there? Did they say anything in the interview about making sure things are accessible? How are you gonna get around? What about an apartment?"
"Mom, relax. It's not like they don't know I'm blind — they knew before they even interviewed me. I know it's a new place, but none of the rest of it is new to me, okay? I know how to find my way around a training room. And I can uber to and from work like I do here. I'll be fine."
Probably. He'd probably be fine. It wasn't like he was going to share his anxieties with is parents and make them even more anxious.
Shane didn't particularly love change — and as far as changes went, this was a big one. But, he'd literally been working towards this his whole career. Working for an NHL team had always been the goal. Sure, it would've been nice if it'd been with one of the Canadian teams, but Boston was a top team — he'd be an idiot to turn them down.
After requesting accommodations, and confirming twice that they'd provide them, he flew down to Toronto to test. He'd decided to take his dad with him, mostly because he'd offered, but also because as much as he loved his mother, she was a little overbearing at times. He knew his dad would only get involved if Shane asked him to.
"What's this test like? Are they gonna give it to you in braille?" his dad asked once they were in the air.
"Nah, it's on a computer so I'll use a screen reader. It's multiple choice. It should be easy, compared to what I had to do here to become an RMT."
"How soon will you get your score?"
"Two or three weeks. Then Massachusetts will still need to review my complete application, the background check, references, and assign me a license number. That could take another few weeks."
As expected, the test was easy. Back in Ottawa, Shane spent another few weeks working with his usual clients and once he received an email that his visa had been approved, he started talking logistics with Roger — the head athletic trainer and his main point of contact in Boston.
"They're overnighting the packet with all your documents, so you should get it tomorrow, but let me know right away if it doesn't come. You'll show it all at pre-clearance in the airport, they'll stamp your passport, and you'll be good to go."
"Sounds good." Shane knew all this, of course. He'd done his research about how it all worked before he'd ever applied for the job.
"I'll come meet you at the airport and take you to where you'll be staying, but I'm not gonna lie, you won't have much time to settle in. We've got away games all next week. They sent you the schedule, right?"
"Yes, I have it. Two games in Florida, and one in North Carolina."
"Right. All this is assuming your license comes in time. They told you by midweek, right?"
"They said I'd be registered by Wednesday. They're going to email me my license number."
"Perfect. Forward that to HR when you get it. We'll have just enough time before we travel to get your paperwork done and get you your team credentials. Sorry, kid, you're gonna have to hit the ground running."
Shane was flying into Boston on Thursday, was going to spend Friday and the weekend hopefully getting up to speed, and then Monday he'd be heading to Florida with the team. It was going to be brutally fast, and he was equal parts terrified and excited.
"Looking forward to it," he replied.