Well, That Didn’t Go as Hoped: A Companion Piece, or, An Organization’s Response

This piece exists alongside Well, That Didn’t Go as Hoped: My Nine Months as General Manager.

That earlier article was intentionally narrow. It explained why I chose restraint, why I avoided narrative, and why I prioritized stability over explanation during an active season.

This piece does not revisit that decision.

It examines what happened after it.

Specifically, it looks at how meaning is created when a story is not told, how framing appears even in the absence of explanation, and how public language fills the space that quiet leaves behind.

The two pieces are not in tension with each other.

They are sequential.

One explains a choice.

The other observes its consequence.

Preface

This piece is not an allegation.

It is not an exposé.

It is not a rebuttal.

It is not a claim about motives, intentions, or private deliberations.

It is an analysis of public communication.

Specifically, it examines how language, symbolism, and framing operate when leadership transitions are announced, and how those choices shape meaning regardless of what anyone intended.

Nothing here depends on knowing what anyone was thinking.

Nothing here assumes malice.

Nothing here requires agreement.

It asks a simpler question: what did this framing do?

This is a piece about effect, not intent.

It is about how words function, not why they were chosen.

Whatever the intentions behind them, the meanings created by public language are not optional. They operate regardless of purpose.

Where readers perceive implication, that implication arises from the structure of the language itself, not from any claim made here about what its authors intended.

That distinction matters.

When I stepped away from the role of General Manager, I did so quietly.

There were two communications.

One was a short resignation email.

The other was a brief public statement.

Both were intentionally narrow. They were designed to acknowledge a transition without turning it into a narrative event.

The public notification of my resignation included no music, no symbolism, and no editorial framing. It was factual, limited, and deliberately unadorned. Comments were disabled.

What followed from the organization took a different approach.

The response did not come in the form of a memo, a clarification, or a procedural explanation. It arrived instead through a social media announcement and a group message to players.

Both communications were outwardly positive in tone.

Both emphasized optimism.

Both focused on what was next.

They did more than announce a leadership change.

They reframed what had just occurred.

This piece is not about intent.

It is not about motive.

It is not about what anyone meant.

It is about what language does.

The Announcement

Shortly after my resignation, the organization announced the appointment of a new General Manager.

This, on its own, is routine.

Leadership roles change. Vacancies are filled. Programs move forward.

What stood out was not the appointment itself, but the framing.

The post included the line:

“[Name redacted] knows talent when he sees it and will bring the [team name] to a new level!”

The Facebook story was paired with the song Never Surrender.

This was not a neutral announcement. It was not merely informational. It functioned narratively.

What That Language Does

Language like this does not exist in isolation.

It operates comparatively.

It implies context.

It frames interpretation.

When someone is described as knowing talent when he sees it, the phrase establishes a comparison, even if one is not explicitly named.

When someone is said to be bringing a team to a new level, it implies that the current or previous level was insufficient.

This does not require accusation.

It does not require explanation.

It does not require detail.

It functions by contrast.

This is not an opinion about motives.

It is a description of how comparative language operates.

The Role of the Music

The choice of Never Surrender adds meaning.

The song is widely associated with resilience, adversity, and perseverance.

When paired with a leadership announcement, it contributes to a recognizable narrative arc, one in which something difficult appears to have been endured and the organization appears to be emerging stronger.

This framing invites a question: who, exactly, had surrendered, and to what?

No surrender had occurred.

The season was ongoing.

Practices were continuing.

The bench staff remained in place.

The players were competing.

The only formal change was a leadership role.

The symbolism therefore did not reflect events. It reframed them.

In doing so, the framing permitted the inference that a failure or breakdown had preceded the change, even though no such event had been stated or substantiated. Ironically, this introduced a narrative that was not only unintended, but potentially self-undermining.

Again, this is not a claim about what anyone meant.

It is a description of what the framing allowed.

A Note on My Own Post

It is important to distinguish between two different communications.

My public notification regarding my role change included no music. It was factual, limited, and intentionally unadorned. Comments were disabled.

Separately, when I later shared a link to the longer blog article, I did so through a promotional post. That post was not a notification. It was an invitation to read.

That promotional post was accompanied by a song titled Reflect and Rise.

That choice was deliberate.

Not as commentary on the organization.

Not as a response to anyone.

Not as a statement about conflict.

But as a personal framing of reflection and growth.

Reflect and Rise is inward facing.

It emphasizes pause.

It emphasizes assessment.

It emphasizes continuity through understanding.

It does not suggest a battle.

It does not suggest an opponent.

It does not suggest that something had to be overcome.

It suggests process.

The difference between Reflect and Rise and Never Surrender is not musical.

It is narrative.

One is reflective.

The other is oppositional.

One implies internal reckoning.

The other implies external struggle.

One is editorial.

The other is institutional.

This distinction matters because music, like language, frames interpretation.

The Message to Players

Around the same time, a message was sent to players by one of the co Vice Presidents. It read, in part:

“Hello fellas!

It’s [name redacted] from the [team name redacted].

We have been working diligently to find someone with a true passion for the game, someone well equipped to handle player acquisitions and trades as the deadline quickly approaches.

I hope this news helps bring a fun and positive energy back to our environment.”

The stated purpose appeared to be reassurance.

But reassurance is not neutral.

It exists in relation to a perceived concern.

What This Framing Suggests

Phrases like true passion for the game, working diligently, and bringing positive energy back do not make direct claims about the past.

They do not accuse.

They do not assign fault.

They do not allege wrongdoing.

But they do something else.

They create a comparative frame.

They position the new leadership as a corrective presence.

They suggest improvement without specifying what was lacking.

They imply restoration without naming what had been lost.

This is not speculation.

This is how comparative framing operates.

Why This Matters

My own communications about my departure were intentionally limited.

They emphasized continuity.

They avoided symbolism.

They avoided narrative.

They avoided contrast.

They were designed to minimize disruption and interpretation.

The organization’s communications did the opposite.

They presented the transition in a way that emphasized change.

They introduced symbolic language.

They suggested renewal.

They implied correction.

Not through direct claims, but through tone.

This is not an allegation.

It is a description.

The Effect on Players

Players are not served by symbolic storytelling.

They do not benefit from implied arcs.

They do not need coded language.

They do not need narrative positioning.

They benefit from clarity.

They benefit from stability.

They benefit from predictability.

They benefit from structure.

When leadership changes are framed as transformative moments rather than administrative ones, they can introduce uncertainty where none previously existed.

What Was Not Said But Was Allowed to Be Inferred

No one said that the environment had been unhealthy.

No one said that leadership had been ineffective.

No one said that player evaluation had been flawed.

No one said that positivity had been absent.

But the language chosen made all of those interpretations possible.

That is how implication operates.

It does not require assertion.

It does not require intention.

It only requires framing.

Two Approaches to Transition

I chose restraint.

Not because there was nothing to say.

But because saying more would have created noise.

The organization chose narrative.

Not by explaining anything.

But by framing everything.

Both are choices.

They simply produce different interpretive environments.

Closing

This is not an accusation.

It is not a rebuttal.

It is not an attempt to assign motive.

It is an analysis of how a leadership transition was publicly framed, and how framing itself shapes meaning.

Disagreement with this analysis does not require denying any facts.

It only requires denying that language has consequences.

And it does.

Sometimes the most consequential thing an organization does is not what it says.

It is how it says it.

And what that language allows others to conclude.

On Why This Exists as a Companion

The original piece argued that some moments should not be publicly narrated while the work itself is still ongoing.

That position has not changed.

This companion does not reveal events.

It does not disclose internal processes.

It does not explain what really happened.

It documents something else.

It documents how narrative emerges even when one refuses to create it.

It examines how language, symbolism, and framing do not wait for permission.

They appear.

They operate.

They shape meaning.

In that sense, this piece is not a correction of the first.

It is its afterimage.

Ed Garinger is a seasoned hockey coach, mentor, and educator with over two decades of experience. A native of the Bruce Peninsula, he played minor and junior hockey before earning his BA and BEd from Nipissing University, where he also competed in varsity volleyball and extramural hockey.

Coaching since age 14, Ed has balanced his teaching career with an extensive coaching and development portfolio, working with players at all levels. He has coached in the Provincial Junior Hockey League, led youth and high school teams, and served as a learning facilitator for the OMHA. His experience includes elite programs like the OHL/OHF U15 and U16 camps, U17 Regional Camps, and Hockey Canada’s Skills Academy.

A Hockey Canada HP1-certified coach, USA Hockey-certified coach, and Chartered Professional Coach (ChPC), Ed is committed to ongoing professional development and continually seeks to expand his knowledge to better serve players and coaches. Now based in Orillia, he enjoys passing on his passion for hockey to the next generation.