“I sure did! You were doing great! That first turn was excellent! You’re getting it. Just remember it takes practice. Even I didn’t nail every spin my first time. Sometimes you just gotta roll with it.” I steady him on his feet. “Want to try again?”
“Heck yeah! Ten more times!” He grins.
HA!
I think I love this kid already.
“Okay, okay. Let’s take a breath. How about we add a little rhythm to it this time? Like you’re dancing on the ice!”
“Dancing?” He raises an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued.
“Yep! Just picture it. You know how you feel when you’re playing video games and you’re really in it?”
He nods, eyes wide and serious, like I’ve unlocked some secret wisdom. “Yeah!”
“Try to feel that same vibe when you’re skating, okay? Just picture yourself in your video game and let your body move to the music in your head.”
Connor’s face lights up, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he imagines himself skating to some imaginary beat. “Like a DJ?” he asks, bouncing on his skates.
“Exactly!” I grin, leaning in slightly. “Let’s channel that energy. Just forget about everything else. You’re the DJ, and this is your dance floor.”
He giggles, shaking his head as if shaking off any remaining doubts, and then he pushes off again. His small body glides across the ice, and I can see how he’s trying to incorporate movement, arms swinging, knees bending, his head bobbing just a bit. It’s not perfect, but it’s alive, and that’s what matters.
“Here goes nothing!” he shouts, and as he tries to spin, he stumbles again, but this time he catches himself, spinning awkwardly but with a triumphant grin plastered across his face.
“See? There you go! That was even better!” I cheer, feeling the swell of pride in my chest. Watching him find his rhythm is exhilarating, like a rush of adrenaline and warmth and…something I can’t quite describe.
Once he balances himself back upright, he throws his fist in the air. “Whoa! That was epic! Did you see that, Coach? I did it!”
“Heck yeah you did! You’re getting the hang of it! You’re looking better and better each time you try it. See? That’s what it takes to be a superstar. Consistent growth and a positive attitude.” I offer him a high five, which he returns with exuberance. “I’m really proud of you, Connor.”
So, fucking proud!
“If you like that, check this out!” Connor pushes off his toe pick and does the equivalent of a football player’s touchdown celebration complete with shaking knees and this weird half spin. He spins himself around a few times and then brakes hard—too hard—and spins sideways, nearly eating ice.
“Whoa, whoa!” He flails but I reach him in two big pushes, grabbing his elbow and steadying him before he wipes out.
“Easy,” I say, voice low, instinctive, automatic. “Careful big guy. Control comes before speed.”
His cheeks flush, but he beams up at me. “Did I look cool though?”
My mouth twitches. “You looked…something.”
From the boards, Harper laughs softly. It’s quiet, but the sound yanks at me harder than a slap shot to the ribs. I turn just in time to see her leaning her forearms on the boards, chin resting on folded hands, watching me with this soft, unguarded expression.
One I haven’t seen since we were young and stupid.
And it hits me right in the chest.
I look away before I forget how to breathe. “Alright,” I say to Connor, clearing my throat, “let’s run a few drills.”
We run through edge drills, crossovers, and stick handling. The stuff he needs, the stuff most kids hate, but he’s focused, trying his best, glancing back at Harper every few minutes to make sure she’s watching.
Just like I used to.
Jesus.
He stops in front of me, panting. “You think I’m good enough for that travel team?”
