Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“You’ve never been cut from a team, Vinnie,” I commented dryly.
“No, but I’ve struggled and lost my confidence on the ice a couple of times. Trunk has too, and he’ll tell you the same thing. Hockey is a physical game, but like any sport, it’s also mental—the losses and setbacks can weigh on you and fuck with your noggin.”
“I know, but I’m fine,” I assured him.
“I’m glad you think so, but that’s what everyone says. ‘I’m fine. Put me in, Coach. I’ll show you next time.’ I’ve watched you play, you know.”
My brow furrowed so hard I gave myself an insta-headache. “You have?”
“Not in person, but I’ve seen the tapes. I had some downtime when I first retired and I thought about how Coach Moore used to run this place. He was tough as nails but he coached with heart, the way you do when you truly love something. He was your coach too, wasn’t he?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Coach M was the best.”
“He was. He believed in his players and if he saw real potential in someone, he rolled out the red fuckin’ carpet. He called in favors, talked to old buddies, and sang our praises like a pastor preaching his first mass on Sunday morning. He kept files on the kids who stood out and…you were one of them.”
Great. Now I had a lump in my throat.
“I let him down,” I choked out.
Vinnie huffed. “Oh, fuck that. No way. You made it.”
“Let’s be real, Vin. I just got fired from a mega minor team in South Carolina. I’ve never played for a city where the hometown crowd filled an arena or sometimes knew we had a hockey team at all.”
“Oh, boo-hoo. Dry your fuckin’ crocodile tears and think about it,” Vin scoffed. “You might not be exactly where you wanted to be, but you’ve built a career doing what you love. Am I right?”
“Well…yeah, but—”
“Do you realize how awesome that is? You slap on some skates and do the thing that’s so ingrained in your system, it’s almost not work at all.” He held his hand up when I opened my mouth. “I know it’s not always easy. Trust me, I know it deep in my bones. But when you love what you do, you find your way out of those dark places…and you go back to the basics. And how fucking lucky are you to land in Elmwood’s very own mecca, where it all began?”
Everything about my situation seemed the opposite of lucky, but I didn’t think that was the response he was looking for.
“Uh…sure.”
Vinnie sighed and glanced away briefly. “You may not believe me now, but you’re home, and this place is a hockey gold mine. Trunk and I can help with your training to keep you in shape while you coach with us. We’ll pay you for your time, and yeah, we’ll introduce you to our agents.”
“O-kay, that’s amazing.”
He made a funny face. “Maybe. My agent is a total blowhard, but McD has been good for my bank account.”
Fuck. This was exactly what I’d been hoping for.
“I—wow. Is there any chance I can meet him like…tomorrow? I know he might not find me a home overnight, but if I could be with a new team within a week, that—”
“Not so fast,” Vinnie intercepted. “Sorry, man, but as I said, I’ve watched your tapes—and please take this the nicest way possible…you’re not ready for a new team.”
“What? Of course I’m fucking ready,” I stammered indignantly.
He shook his head mournfully. “Not quite. Your timing is off and you know it, so you panic and overcompensate and you’ve done it so often lately, they oughtta engrave your name on the sin bin bench.”
He was right, but it still stung. “Ouch.”
“Whatever, it’s true. Your coach is either a moron for not being real with you or you’re a moron for not listening.” Vinnie waved impatiently. “Doesn’t matter now. The thing is…you can relearn timing to a degree, but instinct…that’s the real weapon. Your instincts are off, and you can’t will that shit back. You’re too far inside your head to see clearly, anyway.”
I threw my hands up, flapping my ruined shirt in the air like a white flag. “What can I do?”
“Well, this is where it gets interesting…” He waggled his brows and grinned. “In addition to helping with the juniors, I want you to help out with the nine-and-unders, our Mighty Mites.”
I must have misheard, but when I asked him to repeat it, the words sounded ominously the same.
“Huh? No way. I…I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. They’re cute as fuck,” Vinnie gushed. “Like a pack of puppies on ice. My niece will co-coach. MK is a fuckin’ powerhouse forward, and I’m moving her up to Bantam as soon as her dad okays it. She’s ready for—”
“I’m not,” I grunted. “I don’t know anything about little kids. Nothing at all.”