“Now hit me,” he says.
“You’re the goalie.”
“Hit me.”
I push against him. It barely moves him.
“See?” he says. “You’re not absorbing the check anymore. You’re redirecting it.”
I try again. This time I angle my hips the way he showed me.
When Chen leans into me, the impact feels completely different - less like being crushed, more like bracing against a wave.
“Oh.”
Chen smiles faintly. “Exactly.”
We run the drill again.
And again.
Each time he increases the pressure slightly, forcing me to adjust my balance until the movement starts to feel natural.
“You’re smaller than most players,” he says after a while.
“I’ve noticed.”
“But smaller doesn’t mean weaker. You just can’t play their game.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t fight strength with strength. You usetiming.”
We skate a few more drills.
Board battles.
Quick pivots.
Slowly, my body starts to understand what he means. The hits don’t disappear, but they feel different - less like something happening to me and more like something I can manage.
Eventually Chen glides back toward the crease, thinking.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“I can show you how to body check someone a lot bigger than you.”
“That seems unlikely.”
He ignores the comment and skates toward the boards.
“Come here.”
I follow him, gliding to a stop beside the glass.
“Alright,” he says, positioning himself in front of me. “Pretend I’m the guy with the puck. When you try to hit someone bigger, the mistake most players make is going straight through them. You won’t win that battle.”
