“I’d want to point out what could be improved but also what went well.”
“Okay. Then?” he asked, a little bit of spark in his eyes. I had the feeling he enjoyed this banter, this give and take between us. He leaned forward onto his elbows just as a waiter approached us. We paused conversation and ordered food. I got a breakfast burrito, Naomi, a pancake breakfast, her dad, eggs, and the assistant coach, French toast.
Not seconds after the waiter left, Coach narrowed his eyes at me. Despite having two other people at the table with us, the conversation felt like a challenge just for me. “You’re holding back, Reiner. I can tell. The team is yours in this scenario, so what would you do?”
I tapped my fingers on the surface of the tabletop and snuck a quick glance at Naomi. She watched me with her lips slightly parted, and god, her lips were so full. Like pillows. Soft and pink andfocus.I cleared my throat. “I’d make them do something that forces them to need each other. Shows their vulnerability.”
“Dad, if I may,” Naomi interrupted, drawing all three of our gazes to her. Her dad sat up straighter, like he wasn’t used to her speaking up this way.
Interesting.
I shifted in my seat, and in the process, my leg brushed against hers. It was a total accident, but then Naomi hit her knee against mine in a playful, flirty form of knee-footsie, and goddamn it, I fought a grin.
She was standing up to her dad and flirting with my knee. Today was a strange one.
“What is it?” Coach asked, tilting his head as he stared at his daughter. When he did that, the resemblance between them was right there in the eye shape and the way their noses fit their face.
Maybe I shouldn’t be getting excited about our knees. I moved over to the right so we weren’t touching and gave Naomi all my attention. Her cheeks had red patches on them, and she pulled on the hem of her shirt a couple of times before she opened the folder. “I created a player profile filled with stats and observations. I’ve only had time to do one so far, but I want to add an element to it.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” her dad said, his eyes moving toward the paper with a picture of Helsing on it.
“There are motivation profile tests that cost around fifty bucks. I want the guys to take them. If I consolidate the data and combine the findings with the stats, I’ll be able to provide an in-depth analysis for each player. What pushes them. What motivates them to be a good teammate, or in some cases, to be a bad teammate. This would help address the lack of team unity that is apparent.”
“Profiles,” he said, slowly and purposefully. He clicked his tongue and stared at me, then his assistant coach, then back to Naomi. I swore I could feel her anxiety growing as the silence went on.
“This is a badass idea,” I said, needing to reassure her. I’d use that shit in a heartbeat. “I can’t imagine all the correlations you could find there.”
“Right? What if we have a way to connect that Helsing is motivated by collaboration and team wins and the fact he has the most assists? Or the opposite? There would be targeted interventions in place to help the team,” she spoke too fast and too loud, and it was cute as hell.
Her nerves disappeared, and instead, she was a ball of excited energy. I loved it.
“It’d be cool to track opposing teams too, to see what the best match ups are.”
“Oh yes, once we get something in place, the sky’s the limit, really.” She flipped over the sheet of paper and grabbed a pen from her bag. “The survey results compared to last year’s stats and the ongoing ones from this year, plus observations… we could come up with a set of questions that are consistent by player.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to read her scribbles on the paper.
“Like, a Likert scale. 1-4.Likely to take a shot himself or pass the puck. Likely to score. Likely to block.Again, just spitballing here. We’d have to agree on these questions so we could apply them to every player.”
“Wait. This would help the players… how?” her dad asked, his voice a little gruff. With that one question, Naomi deflated.
Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes lost that little glint she had seconds ago. Being an outsider to their family, I could seeexactlyhow she took that question. He was assertive, and without the innate assumption that his intentions were good, she’d shut down.
But I learned a bit about her dad since I’d come to campus. He was direct, and when it came to hockey, he was intense. So, his question was to gain understanding, not belittle her idea, and it seemed I was the only one to understand that.
I needed to help, now. “Coach, what’s confusing to you? What the players would have to do? Or how we could get the information to them?”
“They fight me on study tables and tutoring, so getting them to complete this quiz would be hard. Does it take long?”
“No, not at all, Twenty minutes,” Naomi said. “We could buy however many we want and give them codes with a deadline before next game. That’s all they would need to do.”
“Hm,” he said, nodding to us and elbowing his assistant coach in the side. “What you think, Hank?”
“Sure. I want to see what little Fletcher comes up with.” He smiled at Naomi, and she grinned right back.
My muscles tensed at that grin. She never smiled at me like that. How old was Hank anyway? Thirty? I thought he had a wife or something. I frowned at him, but Coach spoke again. “Send me the details, Naomi, and we’ll do it.”
“Great.” She beamed and scrunched her little nose. She put the paper back into the folder and slid it between herself and the wall. Her happiness radiated off of her, and I decided I liked her being this smug. This happy.
