I’d had such a good time with him on Volunteer Day. Granted, he’d been a little off during training the Monday after, like he’d been in some kind of trance or something, but things were back to normal now. And I was looking forward to spending two hours on the bus with him.
“Rivera, you coming to the party at Sigma Chi tomorrow night?” Martinez asked, now down to his compression shorts and nothing else.
“Maybe. Depends on how dead I am after morning skate.”
“Dude, it’s Saturday. There’s no morning skate.”
“There’s always morning skate if you want to get better.”
Tank threw a sweaty sock at me. “Jesus, when did you become such a hockey monk?”
“You’re saying that as if it’s new.”
“Heads up, boys!”
Coach Brennan’s voice cut through the noise as he entered the locker room, followed by Coach O’Brien and Nils. The music got turned down, and everyone settled into the respectful attention we gave the coaching staff after games.
“Fantastic game tonight,” Coach said, his weathered face creased with satisfaction. “That’s the kind of hockey that gets noticed. Smart plays, good positioning, taking care of the puck. You guys did everything we’ve been working on.”
I was down to my compression shirt and shorts now, in the middle of pulling the shirt over my head when I noticed Nils watching me. His eyes tracked the movement for a second before he looked away, focusing on Coach Brennan’s speech.
Probably evaluating my conditioning. Coaches were always assessing players, even in the locker room. Making sure we were staying in shape, not carrying extra weight or showing signs of injury. It was part of the job.
“Special recognition goes to Rivera tonight,” Coach Brennan continued. “Two goals, one assist, but more importantly, the decision-making that led to three other scoring chances. That’s what we call elevated play.”
Pride swelled in my chest. Public recognition from Coach was worth its weight in gold.
“Keep playing like that, and scouts will come visit your games, kid.”
Coach O’Brien nodded his agreement. “The positioning work is really paying off. You’re creating space for yourself and your teammates.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I said, grabbing my towel and shower gear.
“Well, keep it up,” Coach Brennan said. “All of you. This is what happens when you buy into the system and trust the process.”
The coaches headed back out, and the celebration resumed. I made my way toward the showers, thinking about Nils’s brief glance. It was good to know he was paying attention, that he was looking out for me.
The shower area was crowded and loud, steam rising from multiple shower heads as guys washed off the sweat and effort of two and a half hours of hockey. The usual post-game banter continued with us rehashing plays and making plans for later, the endless chirping that never seemed to stop.
But my mind kept drifting back to Nils.
He was so much fun to hang out with outside of hockey. It wasn’t so much the change of scenery, but the way he’d seemed more relaxed, more like a regular person instead of the always-composed coach I was used to. The way he’d laughed when I’d made jokes about IKEA when he’d been sick, the stories he’d shared about university, the comfortable silences that hadn’t felt awkward at all.
I’d enjoyed it more than I’d expected. The furniture building and the work at the Youth Center, yes, but also the conversation, the sense of actually getting to know him beyond hockey. He was smart in ways that went beyond the game, funny in a dry way that caught me off guard, and genuinely interested in hearing about my family and my life.
It was nice having an adult who treated me like an actual person instead of a hockey player with potential.
“Earth to Rivera!” Tank’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You’re gonna run out of hot water if you stand there much longer.”
“Right. Sorry.”
I finished washing and headed back to my locker. I got dressed quickly, pulling on sweatpants and a Millard Hockey T-shirt, then grabbed my gear bag and followed the team out to the bus. The night air was cool, carrying the first real hints of autumn, and I could already feel the post-game fatigue starting to set in.
But I wasn’t tired enough to skip the chance to hang out with Nils.
The bus was filling up with players, everyone claiming seats and settling in for the journey home. I spotted Nils all the way in the back, sitting alone with his coaching notebook open, probably reviewing game notes or planning future training sessions.
Perfect.
