His edges are clean and he joins in with the drills without needing much explanation. When the puck comes to him, he handles it like he’s been doing this for years.
Technically?
He’s one of the better skaters out here.
But halfway through the drills, he starts to show.
His stamina isn’t where it needs to be.
The longer the drills run, the more his breathing changes. His strides shorten slightly, the kind of tiny adjustment you only notice if you’re watching closely.
Which I am.
He’s still keeping up, but barely.
Coach calls for a scrimmage.
Two teams.
I line up opposite him again.
Part of me wants to see what he’s made of.
Hockey is a physical game and if he’s going to play with us, he needs to survive contact.
The puck drops.
Within seconds the play swings toward the boards and Shaw collects it near the corner.
Perfect.
I close the gap fast.
Shoulder into his side, stick hooking toward the puck.
It’s a clean check. It’s not brutal - just enough pressure to see what happens.
He folds under it. His balance breaks, the puck slipping loose as he stumbles slightly against the boards.
I steal it easily.
That’s… not great.
I circle back into position as the play resets.
Mercer was right.
If he can’t hold his ground, bigger teams will eat him alive.
Coach shouts something and we switch lines.
This time Shaw jumps onto my side.
Left wing.
Russo at center.
Me on the right.
