“I don’t… I don't know if I can go in front of a bunch of kids and pretend everything is ok,” I said, leaning back, feeling like such a sour puss.
“Then don’t sugarcoat it,” Jude said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Tell them it's hard, that sometimes it sucks and remind them that their reality can change in the blink of an eye.”
“That’s harsh.” I scowled.
“Is it though?” Forest asked. “How many of the people you were drafted with are still playing? How many failed in their first year or maybe never even got to play?”
I knew of a couple of guys who only played a few games before injuries hit or they didn't pan out like the team thought they would and they weren’t ever re-signed, nor did anyone ever sign them again. It wasn’t uncommon to only play two years in the league, and this year would have been my eighth year playing.
I was luckier than most. They were right that it was a harsh reality that all hockey athletes had to come to terms with. You could have an injury take you out at any time.
“At least think about it, please,” Jude said, squeezing my hand. “I think it could be really good for you and who knows, maybe those kids could whip you into shape. You’re still a free agent.”
“Ok, I’ll think about it,” I said, getting up feeling unnerved with their gaze on me.
“Hey, who knows, this might be your calling,” Forest said, slapping my ass as he went into the kitchen.
“Oh yes, Coach Webber,” Jude said, taking food out of our bags. “One of my fantasies has been a teacher and student. Maybe if you get an office, you can fuck me against your desk.”
My eyes widened as I stared at Jude. Where the hell had my shy best friend gone? Now I couldn’t get the image of college Jude bent over a desk while I fucked him roughly with my hand over his mouth.
“If that happens, I want to watch, or maybe you can fuck in the showers and I can be another coach watching,” Forest said, his voice deepening. “Two coaches fucking a student? Sign me the fuck up.”
I shook my head at where the conversation had gone and as the night wore on, I realized they were right. I could do some good for these kids and who knows, maybe one of them might end up playing in the NHL.
Monroe University had a Division 1 hockey team and I was very excited to learn about it after I agreed to come in on a Wednesday. I asked Coach Dalton to let me come in a little early to skate. I was too chicken to tell him the reason why, but now that I was lacing up my skates, the excitement to be on the ice was overwhelming.
I’m glad I decided to come early because I needed to do this alone and get all my emotional shit out of the way. I did some stretching before I arrived and while my body felt strong, there was a part of me that expected the worst. This wasn’t the first time I had skated either, but today would be the first day I would push myself to do things I hadn’t done in months.
The moment my skates hit the ice all of my worries went out the window. I skated a few laps around, testing my knee out, pushing myself to go faster and while I was stiff, my knee felt pretty damn good. I grabbed a few pucks and my stick, running through a few drills that started off pretty horribly, but my body quickly remembered what the hell to do.
My alarm rang telling me the kids would be down on the ice soon and Coach Dalton wanted me to come down after they got warmed up. I grabbed my pucks with a big smile on my face, feeling pretty fucking good. I was an idiot for waiting so long to get back on the ice and start practicing. If I had stayed in Denver and forced myself to get back on the ice sooner, maybe I would have signed with a team.
Except that's not what happened. That reality was hanging on a lot of what-if’s, and if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t know if I would have had the strength mentally to be on the team.
I made my way to Coach Dalton's Office, knocking before walking in.
“Webber!” he yelled, getting up from his desk too quickly, making his chair fall.
I didn’t know what I had expected of Coach Dalton, but it was not a young clumsy, nerdy-looking coach. He had to be my age or not much older.
“Hey, coach,” I said, holding my hand out.
“Hi. Hey, holy shit,” he said, shaking my hand. “I honestly didn’t think you would come.”
“I said I would, and I always mean what I say,” I said.
“I mean, I know calling you was a gamble, but never mind, I’m rambling,” he said, patting his chest.
“You, ok?” I asked, getting a little worried.
“Yeah, I’m just hoping this helps. I was only supposed to be assisting Coach Maynard, but when he quit right before schoolstarted, the Dean gave me the job when the other coach said he didn’t want the position,” he said quickly. “Then he quit and now it's just me cause we can’t find a coach and I’m drowning. I know the kids would look up to you and honestly, I’m just hoping for some pointers too.”
“Well, shit coach. That sounds like a clusterfuck and half,” I said.
“It’s been crazy and I think the only reason we’ve won any games is cause this one kid, Parker, is pretty damn good and I have him on a line with Jensen. They seem to work well until one of them throws a fit or something that doesn't go right happens,” he said, looking overwhelmed.
“Well, I can’t promise a miracle, but I’m more than happy to help however I can,” I said.
