"D-man. break on the fibula in November, 2016 against the Habs." Jared said it with a shrug; six foot even, he was built like the rest of the hockey players, wide on the shoulder and neck, strong hips and legs. They came lean and leaner for the most part, owing to the ultra-intense nature of their sport.

Greg Martin glanced over, "Holy shit, that's Jared fuckin Landry. He blocked a slapshot with his leg during a powerplay. Finished the fuckin' shift though." The dude was nodding approvingly -- when a hockey player gives another hockey player kudos for grit, you knew that it was serious business.

Jared cut in, before the physio went off, "It was stay on the shift or risk a goal while getting off the ice, so I stayed another one and a half minutes on the ice with that injury. Had no idea it was that bad, but I know I was hurt. So I did rehab with the Caps and came back to play late season, but they lost someone and I subbed in during the playoffs. So we were playing the Penguins, game 5 and the ligaments tore again, because there'd been damage from the break."

Bob cut in at this point, "And he's here because of what he was doing during those playoffs. The Capitals had a shot, and it went away when he did. We know there's work to do, but we want to sign this contract. We want you to look at it and tell us what you see. I forwarded a PDF of the medical reports that the caps gave us," he taped his ipad a couple of times, "and you can work it from here. Look, Caps said he's ready to play now. But I want him stronger. We need to work up a training regimen that strengthens the things that keep coming loose."

So that was the hitch; he was in this lady's hands. He glanced over and nodded, "Look, most of the work we did over there was with weights, and the trainer...I dunno, different ideas? If you have a program that can keep it from happening, I am all yours. I want as much ice time as possible."