“This was supposed to be the transitional year for us, Ice,” Tully said. “Bert fired Brewster last November and hired you as head coach. We got lucky on Plan B, did better than we expected in the draft, and even won a couple of games at the end of the season. But who could have figured Carl Pogue would quit and we’d end up having Ronald in charge of operations?”

A muscle ticked in the corner of Dan’s jaw.

Tully shook his head. “Phoebe Somerville and Ronald McDermitt, the Stars’ new owner and acting general manager. I tell you, Ice, even Vince Lombardi’s laughing at us, and just think how long he’s been dead.”

Silence fell between them as both men’s thoughts took equally dismal paths. In the six weeks that had passed since Bert’s funeral, Phoebe had disappeared, bringing team business to a standstill because no one else was authorized to sign contracts. When she couldn’t be located, Carl Pogue, the Stars’ general manager, had quit in frustration and subsequently taken a job in the Commissioner’s Office. Now, Ronald McDermitt, the man who had been Carl Pogue’s assistant, was the Stars’ acting general manager, completing the chronicle of disaster.

The terms of Bert’s will had been leaked to the media, leaving all of them stunned. Like everyone else, Dan had assumed Bert would pass the Stars on to Reed immediately, not at the end of the season. Although Reed Chandler had a good reputation in the community, Dan had always found him a bit slippery, and he hadn’t looked forward to working for him. Now, however, he would have given just about anything to see Reed sitting in Bert’s old office.

“Howie told me you’ve been trying to get in touch with Ray Hardesty. You’re not feeling guilty about finally letting me cut him, are you, Dan?”

Dan shook his head, even though the cut still bothered him. “We had to do it.”

“Damn right. He was missing more practices than he was making, and there was no way he was going to pass a drug test.”

“I know that.” Lyle Alzado’s death from steroid abuse hadn’t taught guys like Ray Hardesty a damn thing. Dan knew Tully had been right to insist that Ray be cut from the team, and he should have done it when Ray had been picked up for his second DUI arrest of the year. Instead, he’d dragged his heels, giving the Stars’ veteran defensive end more last chances than he would have given anybody else. Hardesty had been a great player until his drinking and drugging had gotten out of control, and Dan had wanted to exhaust all of his options. He’d done his best to get Ray into rehab. He’d talked to him until he was blue in the face about showing up on time for practice and at least pretending to follow the rules, but Ray hadn’t been listening to anybody except his street corner pharmacist.

Tully tugged at his collar. “Did you know that Ronald took me aside a couple of days after Carl quit and told me to put more pressure on you to cut Hardesty?”