“What is it, Coach?” Marcus asks, ever the captain.
“Something fun. Three on three handball.” The assistant coaches are lining up the goals on both ends of the ice. “We’re going to be splitting into teams of three. You can’t hold on to the ball for more than three seconds or the other team gets the ball. First team to twenty-one gets out of line drills tomorrow.”
“Hell, yeah!” I shout.
“Coach, how is this helping?” Dax asks.
“It’ll help with your edgework, balance, and even spatial awareness. Knowing where the guys are on the ice for your team. With new teammates this year, we need to build that sense of camaraderie so we can gel as one.”
I nod. This is something different that we haven’t done before, but I like the sound of it.
“Adams,” Coach Andrews calls out to me, “since you’re excited, you’ll be down on that end of the ice.”
I follow his finger and wait as he divides up the team. Marcus and one of the new guys, Ryan, join me, while Noah, Dax, and one of the rookies take the other side. The assistant coach tosses a ball my direction and blows the whistle.
“Remember, you can’t hold on to it for more than three seconds.”
Tossing the ball to Ryan, I skate forward and watch as he throws it to Marcus. He heaves it in my direction before I duck under Noah. Before I can pass the ball, the whistle blows.
“Too long, Adams. Fields’s team gets the ball.” He skates in a line as he watches us play. “Imagine this is a puck. Work with your teammates. See where your competition is on the ice. Constant awareness.”
Nabbing the ball from Dax out of thin air, I’m faster this time in sailing it over Noah’s head to Marcus. With only the rookie in his way, he chucks it straight into the back of the net.
We’re jostling each other, having fun, but Noah’s team takes a quick lead and we can never quite catch up. They end up getting beat by the last team, meaning all of us still have to do line drills.
“We tried.” Marcus skates up to me. “At least we’ll all suffer together.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier, Cap.”
Coach claps his hands. “I like what I’m seeing, men. I’ll see you all tomorrow. We’ll start in the weight room before working on our lines.”
“Can we play more handball?” Jasper asks.
“Damn. Jasper having fun?” Graham chides him. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
He flips him off.
“We’ll do more of this, yes. Now hit the showers.”
I skate off the ice, not wanting to be out here any longer.
The first day of practice is always hard. No matter how much training I put in during the offseason, it pales in comparison to the work our coaches put us through. The fact that I didn’t puke like a few of the rookies did makes me feel better.
Add to that practice a baby who decides when I sleep, and I’m gassed. I’m one of the last ones in the locker room. Heading straight to my stall, I sit down, stretching my legs to let my muscles have a break.
“How do you feel?” Marcus asks.
I peek one eye open at him, leaning back against my locker.
“I feel like a Zamboni ran over me.”
Marcus claps me on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to that feeling. I eventually did.”
“Really?” I shift, pulling my jersey up and over my head.
He nods. “It felt like the girls didn’t sleep for the first year I had them. If one was asleep, the other was awake. I felt like a zombie.”
“You know,”—Jasper comes up to the two of us—“you’re not making a case for having kids.”
