Page 79 of Taking Sides

“What time is your flight in the morning?” he asks.

“Six.”

“Ouch.”

“The team plays at home tomorrow and then in Florida on Friday?” I’m stalling to stay on the phone with him. I’m only going to be gone five days, but I’m going to miss seeing him. And talking to him will be hard with Victor around.

“That’s right. Then we’re off Saturday and Sunday.”

“It figures that your only two days off this month coincide with me being gone.”

“I’ll make time to see you when you get back.”

“K.” I linger, wishing we could keep talking. “I better go. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright.” He sounds as reluctant as I feel.

When we hang up, I change into my skates and head to the ice. The boys are already set up for two-on-two corner drills. In every corner of the rink, our goalies are in place. Grady is at center ice, rotating his attention between all the groups.

He tips his head up when he spots me. “Heard we got some new gear courtesy of our pro hockey friends.”

“Yeah.” I skate out to join him. “New sticks for all the boys.”

He eyes the stick in my hand and lifts both brows. I smile, completely ignoring the silent question. “How are they looking today?”

“Not bad,” he says as he folds his arms over his chest. “Not great either.”

He raises his voice to call out to the boys. “Don’t forget on change of possession you have to tag up at the goal line before you can attack the net.”

Grady and I split up to watch the groups more closely. The two teams are combined so they’re playing in pairings that aren’t as familiar to them. In some cases, it’s exciting to see JV players who can hold their own with the older boys, but for others, it only showcases how big the gap is in their talent. I feel for those boys. Almost always, their second and third turns are worse than the first. And each screwup only makes their confidence drop more.

“I don’t know if some of your boys are ever going to be ready,” Grady says to me as we’re nearing the end of practice. “Maybe we should cut some of them loose.”

My stomach drops. “You’d cut them halfway through the season?”

“I don’t know.” He looks pained at the prospect. “It’s the last thing I want to do, but I can’t help but think I’m doing these boys a disservice somehow. Nothing we do is making a difference. Some kids have it and some don’t.”

I feel a flush of embarrassment on their behalf. I know exactly what it’s like to have coaches give up on you or think you aren’t worth their time.

“Can I try something when this drill is over?” I ask him.

He rotates his arm to check his watch. “We only have ten minutes left.”

“It won’t take long,” I promise.

I blow the whistle and call for the boys to move the goals back in place. It takes a couple minutes for them to do that and remove the two extras, then I have them stay on their respective ends of the ice but line up single file facing the goal line.

“I’m going to be gone the rest of the week so how about before I leave, you show me how many goals you can make in ten minutes?” I yell out at them.

There’s a murmur of agreement and excitement.

“A shoot-out?” someone asks.

“That’s right. From center ice. The team that scores the most in the next three minutes wins, but every single player gets a turn.”

They visibly grow more excited as they line up. Grady divvies up pucks on either side, and our goalies stay near the nets to help send them back to their teams.

“Everyone ready?” I ask, bringing my whistle to my lips.