Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“We’ll wait,” Coach casually declares presenting me with the perfect opportunity to do something I can hardly believe I’m gonna do.
My attention flies back to the younger dude on my right. “Can I ask you something about your sitch with Wings?”
“Neena,” he firmly corrects. “Only I can call her Wings.”
“Right.” Both glove-covered hands fly up in surrender. “My mistake.”
A small boyish grin precedes him kicking his chin at me, wordlessly insisting I continue.
“Was it love at first sight between the two of you?”
An uncomfortable chuckle is accompanied by an even more uncomfortable scratch to the back of his neck. “Uh…for me it was.”
“And for her?”
“Probably not.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I was…fucking…weird, man,” he confesses right above a whisper. “And awkward…and clumsy…and just…a…complete pylon.”
“What changed?”
His face cycles through cringes and winces. “I…embarrassed myself in front of her.”
“How bad?”
“Uh…” leaves him in a high pitch, “think ripping your breezers during your rookie lap and missing your slapshot.”
“Fuck, mate.”
“Yeah.” Peck shakes his head as though still in disbelief. “But…” the gleam in his gaze swiftly returns, “I think that showed her the other side of me she needed to know existed. The unperfect one.” Another small wince is flashed. “Not that I’m perfect on the ice. None of us are. But that’s where we push to be our best. To be the most perfect players we can be for ourselves as much as each other. And I think seeing the goofy human versus the hockey god scored me my first real dub, which eventually led to others.”
Huh.
That makes an unusual amount of sense.
“No Payne, no gain!” chirps Kiernan Payne upon entering the rink.
“Oh good, he has a catch phrase,” I mutter to Cap under my breath.
“Youse guys ready to gain more W’s than you ever have before?!”
“And an ego,” quietly huffs the man who led us to many victories last season.
“I just wanna learn what I can,” Fredrick “Potato” Potapova declares coming in behind him. “Whatever happens here, I know I can use it back there if I go.”
That’s why Potato is our kind of callup.
He knows his place.
And he knows he’s replaceable.
Which is what you want in a new recruit.
Especially when going from minors to majors.
Shits different here.
Harder.
More ruthless.
It’s like war.
Know your role and we all have a greater chance of survival.
“Welcome home, boys,” Blanc warmly greets all of us. “Most of you know our motto – as it trickles down through the ranks – but for those that don’t, prepare to learn it.” His attention gradually works its way through the crowd. “And live it.” He continues scanning the team. “You will see these words. You will hear these words. You will taste, smell, and touch these words in this barn and for this barn.” The small shift on his skates assists in keeping him balanced. “You will say them. You will believe them. You will be them. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, Coach!” gets echoed back.
“Cap,” he effortlessly calls on Eeyore. “Tell the boys what those words are.”
“Work hard.”
“Ra!” we bark out in tandem at the same time we pound a single fist against our chests.
“Play hard.”
The gesture is instantly repeated.
“Fuck hard.”
One more repeat of the action is executed prompting Coach to take the reins back afterward.
“You will see the edited version of that in the locker room and use it in interviews; however, the entire motto matters, just like every single member of this franchise that signs up to put this dragon,” he taps the emblem on his jacket, “on their chest whether they’re front office or scrubbing the team bus. And you will treat them that way, or you will not play. You will treat them that way or you will not stay.” Blanc folds his hands behind his back. “Have I made myself heard?”
“Yes, Coach!”
“Good.” A suspicious smile suddenly slips into place. “You boys ready to train?”
“Yes, Coach!”
His nodding is followed by him giving a small wave to someone in the distance. “I’m a firm believer in building success off the basics. So, practice starts with the basics, ain’t that right, Matty?”
The small grunt out of our Czech player gets most of us chuckling.
“Balance is what you boys need. On and off the ice.” The grin on his face wildly grows. “So, balance is where we begin.” Our equipment team brings unsuspecting items to all four of our team coaches. “Who here got pegged by a giant bouncy ball in Mites or lower?”
Random hands fly into the air, including mine.
“That’s the shit we’re doing today,” Coach proudly declares. “We wanna minimize ankle injuries – we had at least three last season. We wanna cut back on those pulled muscles – we had at least four of you nursing them when it could’ve been avoided. And most importantly, we wanna shave down the amount of time you spend on your knees versus your skates.” Bricks hands him an oversized, neon pink ball. “You don’t hit the ball. You simply use your body to take the hit. You stay upright you get to stay on my ice. You don’t?” He kicks his head in the direction of the locker room. “You hit dry land and do balance drills for the next sixty.”