Hickory Algorithm Newsletter
Hockey Coach to Mikey from Rocky
Unexpected Path
by: Chris Goldby ∣ Hickory Algorithm
I had a hockey coach named Roy when I was in my early teens.
He was the father of one of my buddies, and I’d see him whenever I was over their house, but we engaged the most when I was playing hockey.
I played defense.
I was the guy that if anyone — anyone — got too comfortable in front of our goalie, I’d look get a little frisky - show a little grit - if you will. Play the game with a little sandpaper.
And I did. Regardless if it went well or not. When I got back to the bench he would always tap me on the shoulder. No words were spoken.
I wasn’t the best player. I wasn’t the fastest or the most skilled. But I made sure my teammates could play the way they wanted to with confidence, with space, with freedom. Roy saw something in me early on: not finesse, not flash… but grit.
As I got older, Roy and I would cross paths again in the grocery store I worked in for two decades. He worked there too. Every single day we’d stop and talk. It always started with the Penguins, NHL rumors, playoff hopes and gradually shifted to family, kids, grandkids, life, movies and even Godzilla.
And always, always, we quoted Forrest Gump.
To this day, if I see a lake, a pond, a puddle — anything — I’ll mutter:
“I bet there’s shrimp all in these waters.”
It could be a puddle in the Lowe’s parking lot. My kids have to hear that line.
Drives my kids nuts. Makes me smile every time.
Roy and I built our own comedy universe over the years with paranormal skits, fake investigations, ridiculous storylines we’d improvise and stretch out for weeks. To me, those bits were dumb fun. To him, they were signs.
“You should be a writer, Chris.” - Roy
He told me that for years.
And for years, I brushed it off.
Fast forward to my Wednesday night screenwriting class at CVCC, the first classroom I’ve sat in for 23 years.
The seat next to me in the classroom was always empty.
Literally.
Always.
My friend joined the class with me at first, but it wasn’t for him. The next week someone else sat there, they quit too. Week after week, the seat beside me stayed open while the entire rest of the room was filled.
I sit near the front so I don’t miss anything, and I take way too many notes, so it became impossible not to notice the empty seat for the 2 hours every Wednesday evening during class.
Why that seat?
Why every week?
And then one night, our instructor, T. Rafael Cimino, asked the class to name a narcissistic lead character — specifically, a female lead.
Most people froze.
I raised my hand.
“Jenny. From Forrest Gump.”
You should’ve seen the looks I got. But I knew — I knew — if Roy were sitting next to me, he would’ve elbowed me and agreed. Had my back. We had that conversation a hundred times at the store.
When my answer landed with a thud, I leaned back in my chair, turned to that empty seat, and smiled.
Roy, had my back.
Our final class required us to pitch our screenplay ideas. People poured their hearts out with mini-series concept here, a short film about breast cancer there by Jermi Little (featured in last week’s newsletter and episode). Real, powerful stuff from real, local people in Hickory.
I talked last week about the nerves, the fear, the uncertainty. But now, looking back, I realize something:
That empty seat wasn’t empty.
Not to me.
Roy was there.
He was the one who told me I could write long before I ever believed it myself.
Long before I ever gave it a shot and took a class.
He saw potential in me I never saw in the mirror.
He nudged me — for years — toward something I never thought I’d have the courage to try.
And now?
I’m walking down a path I never expected.
A path I wouldn’t be on without him.
Next week, I’m heading back to Pittsburgh.
And I can’t wait to get a picture with Roy and tell him the news in person:
I was offered a writing position with Akula Literary Partners.
Roy is my Mickey (from Rocky).
When I thought I was out of place. When I would look around and think “what am I doing here?”
I was completely out of my element. Uncomfortable.
The chair next to me was empty.
He wasn’t sitting next to me in the room but, he was sitting next to me.
Pushing me.
Backing me.
Believing in me.
We all have someone who unexpectedly changes our trajectory. Someone who sees what we can’t. Someone who nudges us into the unknown until we find ourselves living inside a story we never planned to write.
This path — this unexpected path — started with a hockey coach at the age of 14 who told me, over and over again:
“You should be a writer, Chris.” - Roy
Turns out… he was on to something.
We all have someone who helps changing our trajectory. Someone who sees what we can’t. Someone who nudges us into the unknown until we find ourselves living inside a story we never planned to write.
This path…
….this unexpected path…
Started with a hockey coach at 14, who told me, over and over again:
“You should be a writer, Chris.”
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