Draft day is frightening. Even if you think you’re ready for it, you aren’t. You’ve been playing your entire life, practicing through midget and U-16 and developmental programs to get here, and you think it’ll be great fun. The most important day of your life. But it’s frightening. The floor buzzes with phones and chairs and beepers, for some reason? And you sit in the stands, watching the commotion on the floor with the managers and agents and junior scouts knowing you’re being judged. Every one of your goals, stops, assists. Every good game, bad game, success from the jaws of defeat, soul-crushing blowout. Your entire career is being smashed down into a number.
1.
2.
3.
It isn’t even a number that can be compared and tied with others, it doesn’t give any information or detail or texture. It tells you “we want this person first.” Or second. Or third.
Or forty-fourth.
My mom told me that it doesn’t matter where I go, it just matters that I get selected. If I get my foot in the door, I can prove myself with my work ethic. My dad said I should only pay attention to where the other goalies go. My agent told me that getting picked by the right team is what’s important. I was the second goalie picked, so I guess my dad is probably proud of me now.
The draft is frightening. Getting drafted is exciting. There’s a ton of hustle and bustle involved. Getting up on a podium to meet your new GM is an incredible experience. Shaking hands, taking pictures, putting on the jersey for the first time (speaking of—putting on a jersey over a shirt and tie? Looks fly. I love it.). It’s a one-of-a-kind experience that, if you’re lucky, becomes a two-of-a-kind experience in a couple of years.
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Detroit was an incredibly welcoming experience. Going into a room where everybody knows your name and is excited to have you around is a crazy experience. In U-16 hockey you’re basically grouped by your geography. There are travel teams, but even they depend on where you are. You make friends, but you aren’t necessarily chosen for that team. Being wanted is a change for the better.
Having an agent is a weird feeling, especially when you’re moving to junior hockey. I haven’t seen a hundred thousand dollars in one place in my entire life, and suddenly this guy is telling me about my value and draft position and negotiations. Like hang on dude, this year could be more valuable than my parents' house. That's weird. Chris has been great (shoutouts where they’re due), it’s just surreal to need representation at my age. It’s much more surreal to get a call from your agent minutes after you’ve been drafted.
In that moment, I was meeting my new team. Management thought it was a good idea to bring the team down to the draft. Meet the new players fresh off the boat and all. I liked that. Being able to shoot the breeze with the team I would potentially spend years with is really calming in such a hectic environment. Then I got the call.
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“Cedric. We have a problem. Can you get back out to the floor?” Chris sounded confused. I didn’t like that. Your agent is the one guy in the world you don’t want confused. He’s the guy who helps you when you’re confused. I excused myself and walked down to the draft floor.
Chris pointed me at the draft board, to the two latest picks.
61. Sulak O’Hritea
62. Cedric Robinson
That looks wrong, I thought to myself. “That looks wrong,” I told Chris. “That is wrong,” he told me. I thought the conversation was pretty stupid. I didn't have anything better to say. Neither did Chris. The Raptors put my name up on the board and nobody really seemed upset about it. I was listening along to the radio broadcast, and they were as confused as I was. At least someone else was paying attention.
The PA boomed out my name. I looked at Chris. He looked at me and shrugged. So I walked up to the podium to have a word with someone.
As I approached the podium, a Colorado manager looked down at me. His face turned from beaming happiness to panic. Not usually what you want to see, in my experience. He grabbed another manager and pointed at me. I looked around to see what was wrong.
Oh, right. I am wearing a Detroit jersey.
Some officials swept me off to the sidelines, much to Chris’s protesting. He’s a good agent. I looped back around to my team’s room and walked into a room split. Half rejoicing, half revolting. “He’s ours!” was the cry from both sides. A locker room rallied around Colorado’s (presumably unintentional) poaching, and all eyes were on me when the door opened. I looked with shock. Then I smiled wide.
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Most people who get drafted twice had a bad go of it the first time. Getting drafted but never signing a contract. Getting drafted and regressing or getting injured. Reapplying into the draft and getting picked up at a lower draft position. My agent told me that most of his clients who have been drafted twice never make it to the bigs. They flounder in the minors for a bit, then go play single-A hockey killing themselves for a hot meal. It’s a pretty rough lifestyle. Then again, none of his clients have ever been drafted twice in the same year.
I really want to make history in this league. Make a difference. Get big, get known, and make waves in the SHL in the future. In my mind, I’ll do that through my play. But in my first day, making history by accident? I can be happy with that too.
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I called my dad after the draft and told him that I was the second goalie off the board.
“That’s real good, son,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
I told him I was also the third goalie drafted.
“Huh.”
“Yeah dad. That was my reaction too.”
Quote:For my first media article, I wanted to do something Player's Tribune style. Lucky me, something pretty exciting happened to me! I counted 1022 words, and I intend to use the 2x media bonus for Draft season.
grok
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