We didn’t chat about anything serious for the rest of the second period and intermission. She excused herself, leaving me alone for a while. It made no sense, but I missed having her around. There was a comfort I’d found with her in a short span of time that I just recently reached with Freddie after living with him for a year.
With her gone though, I focused on the game for the final period and caught myself going through what I would’ve done if I were on the ice. Hanson needed to settle down. He was too fidgety and wasn’t thinking before passing, like he forgot every drill he’d ever done.
Could be first game nerves, but it seemed like more.
Our goalie, Tyler Roland, had been having a hell of a game but was getting tired. He needed more drills to build stamina. To keep his movements sharp. I’d wager the other team would score by the end of the period based on how our defense was slowing down.
Fucking Cal though. The all-star wasn’t engaging with the team. He was there, going through the motions, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in the game. He was a stats chaser, wanting the most shots on goal. It wasn’t unheard of to have a cocky eighteen-year-old, but someone had to deflate his ego a bit. Andnotthe Coach.
The best discipline a player could have on a team was to instill a sense of pride and family for the leadership on the ice. They could police the team so the coach could worry about coach stuff—plays, stats, winning. Helsing was doing his job as alt-captain, but Erikson had to step up.
I wasn’t sure if Coach Simpson was going to ask for my insights from the game, but I got out my phone and started typing all my ideas. What I would do at practice the next day. The specific workouts certain players needed.
As I did all this, my mind raced with ideas. It was an explosion of thoughts and plans and underneath it all, excitement. That small flame of excitement felt foreign in my body after a year of moping without direction, and fuck, I wanted it to last.
“Why the maniacal smile?” Naomi asked, sitting back down as her lemon scent surrounded me. Her lips quirked up on one side, and damn, I liked how her eyes softened when she grinned.
“I’ve never thought of myself as a coach before, but jotting down notes has been weirdly fulfilling.”
“Is it common for hockey players to become coaches?”
“Can be, yeah. But it wasn’t a path I really thought about. I always wanted to be on the ice, not two feet away from it.” I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sad about it anymore and had accepted the reality, but a part of me always wondered if I went to the gym more, drank more milk, and had done just a little bit extra as a kid if it would’ve made a difference. “I wasn’t talented enough to go pro. I was decent, but I was more of a team player. I made others look better, and that was okay with me. I loved being that person.”
“I can see how you bring out the best in others. You have this quality to you that is… enigmatic.”
I raised my eyebrows as she blinked a few times, clearly embarrassed. Her words charmed me, and I gently nudged her arm with mine. “How thoughtful of you.”
“Shut up.” She crossed her arms, and I had a huge grin on my face the rest of the period. We won by one goal after the guys ran a play that put the puck in Erikson’s hands. He had such excellent stick control that he maneuvered around their defense for a shot with less than three minutes left.
That play gave the rest of the team the momentum needed to finish the game strong. That was the thing about sports. It took one moment to change everything. To shift the tide, the attitude, the tiredness. My body came to life at hearing the cheers and how the guys on the bench jumped and pumped their fists. The team was good at winning together.
Would they be the same with losing?
“Wow, that was a fun game,” Naomi said. Both of us stood and got ready to head to the bus area. It wasn’t clear how much we were supposed to be in the locker room or not, and I wouldn’t intrude without Coach telling me to get in there. The team moments were sacred, and I was an outsider.
What if I don’t want to be an outsider though?I briefly thought about what it’d be like to coach a team one day, but the vision didn’t take root. Not fully. I ran a hand over my face to regain my thoughts.
“Yeah, it was a great game. Lots to work on next week but a solid start. You get all your stats for your spreadsheet shit?”
“Don’t knock the spreadsheet shit, okay? Data is very sexy.”
“So is knowing the people on your team.”
“You think stats are dumb,” she said, taking a step back from me like I told her the earth was flat.
I held up a hand and lowered my voice. “No, I don’t. I think they’re a portion of the story. You need multiple data points to get a clear read on an athlete.”
“I’ve been reading all about the NHL and how they use data for trades. You’re saying it’s not helpful?” She arched a brow and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Not at all. I’m saying, Fletcher, that sometimes the numbers don’t tell the whole story. Look at Cal.” I made my eyes go wide. “Great stats. Can skate faster than anyone on the team, right? On paper, he’s the best. But do you see how the guys don’t include him in a cheer? I bet if he scores a goal, no one will go up and jump on him. It’ll be a lone celebration. He’s not a good teammate. Nathan though? The quiet defender who stays in his lane? Great teammate. Average stats. I’d take a million Nathans over Cals if I were building a team. Show me the numbers to tell that story.”
My breathing came out heavier than normal, and I realized how passionate I was about that. About stats. Maybe it was because of my personal journey, how my numbers were alwaysmehbut I had a coach who believed in what I brought to the team. I helped us win, but no data sheet would’ve told you that. I paused and ran a hand through my hair, leveling my gaze with Naomi. “Sorry to go off on a mini-rant there. I have feelings about this.”
“Clearly.” She grinned, lines appearing around her eyes and her lips curving up. “I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
“Oh, a challenge, you say? You’re going to show me data that accurately tells the whole story?”
“Yes, yes, I am.” She took a step closer to me, and I looked down at her. She was a good ten inches shorter than me, and I wanted so badly to tip her chin up so I could see her full face.
