Page 8

By the end of practice, my muscles are burning and sweat’s dripping into my eyes, but Coach has to blow his whistle a few times to get me to stop.
“Showers then my office.” He says. “Good job Captain.”
It’s like a glow emanates from the center of my chest at that.Good job.
But I can be better.
Coach’s office is always a mess. I wish I could just come in here and tidy it all up. Organize all that shit he can’t possibly be able to find anything in and start from scratch.
“Take a seat Alexei.” He only calls me by my first name when we’re in here. Out on the ice its Simakov. Or Captain now I guess.
“That was a good practice, how you feeling about taking up the reins from Wilde?”
I take a deep breath and call forth the line I memorized when I knew he was gonna ask me this question.
“I’m excited Coach, grateful for the opportunity. I think we have a good chance of making the play-offs this year.”
“Me too. If it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna be now. But listen, Alexei…” he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and my stomach clenches at the thought of him telling me he made a mistake. He doesn’t want me to be captain after all. A wave of relief surfaces and I push it down, call it lazy and chicken-shit for good measure.
“I see you out there. You’re laser-focused, dedicated, hard-working, all the workings of a great player and an even better captain, but you’re also hard on yourself sometimes, and I want you to learn when to go easy, when to let it go, and when you need to push.”
What does that even mean? When do you ‘go easy’ in hockey? Isn’t that a contradiction?
“This is my last season Coach, I know I won’t be playing in the majors next year, and I just wanna make the school proud before I leave. I wanna earn my place here.”
“Son, you’ve more than earned your place here.” He leans back, though he isn’t exactly relaxing. “When you came to us, I wasn’t sure you had more than one season in you after that injury. Surgery like that? I thought they’d made a mistake offering you a full-ride… don’t take this the wrong way, I’m coming to the good part, don’t worry… But you proved me wrong Alexei. You worked harder than anyone I’ve ever seen come through those doors. People don’t come here as a prelude to their NHL career. They come here to play hockey while they get their fancy degrees and go to work in the city. But every time youstep through those doors, you come here and play hockey like your life depends on it.”
That’s because it does.
He stops talking, his gaze still focused on me, so I guess he’s waiting for me to say something.
“I know I’d never be able to pay for a school like this if it wasn’t for hockey. I don’t take this opportunity for granted.”
Coach holds his hand up. “I know you don’t. I’m paying you a compliment Alexei. Take it and shut up.”
“Yes Coach.”
There’sa couple of missed calls from my dad when I check my phone. I wait until I’m safely away from the arena before I call him back.
“Are you busy?” I ask in Russian when he answers, knowing he’ll be at work right now at the store. I’ve told him so many times that he shouldn’t answer the phone when he’s with customers, but he never listens to a word I say.
“No, there’s no customers, the place is dead.”
A cloud of dread surfaces before I push it back down again. The store’s been struggling for a while now, but he’d never tell me the full extent of it, even if I asked.
“How’s practice? What did Coach Allan say?”
“It was good, everything’s looking good, he thinks we have a chance of making the play-offs this year.”
“Of course you have a chance of making the play-offs.” The certainty in his voice is unwavering. I instinctively square my shoulders and puff my chest out, readying myself for the challenge. “This is your last chance to catch the attention of NHL scouts Aloyshka. You don’t want to graduate as a free agent.”
And just like that, I deflate. I’ve tried to tell him so many times that my injury effectively ended my professional career.I’ve never been the same since. It’s why I lost my place at Boston C and my agent. Why I grabbed at the chance to study at an Ivy League school with a lesser hockey team. Because I need a Plan B. This, what I’m doing, is Plan B. Hockey is just keeping me in school. Keeping me from being broke for the rest of my life.
Pursuing hockey when I’m above average at best? That’s a surefire way to stay broke. But getting an Ivy League finance degree – that’s the golden ticket out of our shitty apartment and my dad working every hour God sends.
“Listen Papa, I have to go, I’ve got class now. I’ll speak to you soon. Love you.”
“Okay, work hard, I’ll see you at the game on Friday.”