Chapter 2

“Now the coach has heard your name,” Dan said, again playfully tapping Brad on the helmet with the blade of his stick. “Hopefully, he’ll have his scouts look at you.”

“What happens if I don’t get drafted?”

“Then you’ll go as a walk-on, a free agent. You could still try out for the Falcons, or go to Oshawa, Peterborough, or Kingston. We’d start close to home and work our way out from there,” Dan smiled, and winked at him, then stepped onto the ice with Brad following. Their skate blades made that familiar scratching sound as the edges dug in for traction.

Dan and Brad skated a few laps and did some stretches to loosen up.

The Coach finished his phone call and noticed Mike Johnson pass by his door. “Hey Mike, have you a minute?”

“Sure Coach.”

“What can you tell me about that Miller kid?” He asked as Mike sat down.

“Brad’s a good right winger. He and I played Midget for the River Rats for several seasons. We usually were on the same line. We did a lot of power plays and penalty kills. Brad won the rookie scoring title for our team and the league. If I remember correctly, he scored close to forty-five or fifty goals, and fifteen assists in forty-five games. He seemed to always play with a chip on his shoulder and took penalties when he shouldn’t have.”

“Do you have any idea why the poor attitude?”

“I do know that his parents divorced about five years ago and his Dad was killed shortly after in a car accident out west. Maybe that has something to do with it. I can tell you that he’s a hard worker, doesn’t quit, and is a decent hockey player.”

“Thanks, Mike. Let’s keep this conversation just between you and I, okay?”

“Okay Coach,” he agreed.

Mike was about to leave when the team doctor came to the door, “Johnson is clear to play again.”

“Thanks, doc.”

“Okay, Mike you’re in the lineup for Wednesday’s game.”

“Thanks, doc, thanks, Coach,” Mike smiled. They shook hands, and he left for home.

Dan gathered the crate of pucks and dumped them out, scattering them in the right face-off circle. He stood about fifteen feet from Brad and played with a puck back and forth with the stick blade. He quickly shot a puck toward Brad. It whizzed by the right side of his head, missing his helmet by only inches.

“Geesh Dad, what was that for? You nearly took my head off!”

“If I’d wanted to hit you on the helmet, I would have. Someone has to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours!”

“What do you mean?”

“I get the impression that you’re not a happy person.”

“What do you mean, not a happy person?”

“Your play at yesterday’s game was the shits, and it cost the team a win.”

“I don’t see how?”

“Your team lost by two goals and they were both scored while you were in the penalty box. I know you’re a better player than that.”

“Yeah, but I scored two goals myself.”

“I know but that doesn’t matter as much when your team loses. I watched you constantly back talk to the referee on what you thought were bad calls, especially the penalties you took. I’m sure that you’ve got away with more penalties than you’ve been called on you. The other team knows you’ve got a short temper and worked to get you going. Did Steve help you with any of your hockey?”

“A little. He said no one was going to do me any favours, and I had to always look out for number one, namely me.”

“He was SO wrong! Tell me, how many sports can you name that have just a one person team?”

Brad thought for a moment, “There’s, golf, tennis, downhill skiing, and bowling to name a few.”

“Okay, then tell me, when a pro golfer has a bad stretch of playing, who helps him to improve his game?”

“I don’t know himself I guess.”

“Wrong! He has a golf coach. What if he had a bad back or a sore wrist? He goes to his physiotherapist. How does he keep his muscles in condition? He has a trainer. Every one of those sports you named may have only one participant, but every one of them has a supporting team behind him or her.”

“I never thought of it like that before. I guess everyone has a team behind them.”

“Exactly, I have a team behind me, my family and friends. You have a team behind you, your family, maybe some friends, and possibly your teammates.”

Dan shot a puck into the empty net. “You are like a cog in a wheel. You are on your team to support them, and they, in turn, should support you. Did you notice that when you were checked hard into the boards and were slow to get up because you were winded, not one of your teammates went over to the guy who hit you?”

“They didn’t have to fight him because they’d be suspended, but you can send him a message just pushing him, or in that case taking a minor penalty to defend your teammate. But you have to be careful because retaliation will usually get you a penalty and in the closing minutes of a tight game can make a big difference against your team. There is a good time and a bad time to take a penalty. I’ll bet that likely most of your teammates resent you, but won’t say anything to you because you’re the captain and supposedly the ëstar’ of the team.”

“I see the bitterness in how you play hockey also reflects your life and how you live it in general. Disrespect towards your Mom, sisters, teachers, and friends, I imagine.”

“Have you been speaking to Mom about me?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then how do you know all this stuff about me after just a few days?”

“First of all, I’ve lived it before. Life is short and hard enough without fighting against it. And second, in the first ten years of your life, I didn’t help to raise you that way. The Brad I knew before had fun playing hockey, had fun living life. Now pass me a few pucks,” Dan said, poised to take a shot.

Brad passed a puck to Dan, and he fired a hard slapshot into the net and then another. The third shot rang off the left goalpost, the fourth off the right one, and the fifth off the crossbar.

“Man does he ever shoot fast!” Brad thought to himself. Dan pushed that old wooden stick of his to its breaking point, causing a good bend in it each time as it hit the ice just behind the puck. The bow in the stick, adds to the torque of his shot, making it faster.

Dan continued to shoot the pucks hitting the left and right posts an amazing twelve times in a row. “What’s the matter, Dad, having trouble finding the net from so close?” Brad kidded him and laughed.

“Any hockey player can hit the net, how many times did I hit the posts?”

“I don’t know maybe seven or eight?”

“Try twelve.”

“You hit the posts on purpose?”

“How many times did I score?”

Brad counted the pucks in the net, “Eight.”

“So three out of four shots to the posts scored a goal, pretty good odds to me. Goalies say the posts are their friends, part of their equipment. I say the posts are their enemy and part of my equipment, not theirs. “Now let’s see you try a few,” Dan said, gathering some pucks.

He feathered a pass to Brad, and his shot found the center of the net. “Try a slight angle turn to your right or left,” Brad did so, and the next shot rang off the far post and to the corner boards. The next shot hit the post and off the glass. The third shot hit the post, going into the net.

“Good one Brad. You’ve got a good shot going there. Try putting a little more hip into your downswing just as if you were golfing. Also, bear down more on your downswing and more weight on your left foot. The flex in your stick adds to the power of your shot,” he explained. Brad did as he was instructed, and his next shot hit the near post and in. “There, you’ve just increased your shot by about two or three miles per hour without even trying.”

“You still golf in the summer time like we did years ago?” Dan asked, skating over to him.

“I try to get out and play when I can.”

“Remember the feeling when you hit the ball right in the sweet spot of the club? You’ll get the same feeling in your stick. Know every inch of the blade of your stick and what it will do for you. Now, remember, a hard shot isn’t always the best shot. A hard shot that misses the net is useless, compared to less speed and more accuracy. Unless you aim off the net on purpose for a deflection or close to the net pass.”