Page 13 of Drop the Gloves

“Abernathy.”

Evan froze. He’d been re-taping his stick for practice when Coach Jack’s voice gave him a mini-heart attack. “Yes, Coach?” he asked. His stupid voice wavered. Fuck.

Coach Jack pretended he didn’t notice. “My office for a minute?”

Oh shit. Something Coach didn’t want to say in front of the rest of the team. This was worse than Evan had thought. “Sure.”

Coach Jack’s office had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along two walls, completely stuffed with hockey and sports books.

They weren’t for show, either: Evan knew Coach Jack had read each and every one of them, front to back, several times.

He often had one with him on road trips, a pen and highlighter and pad of paper in hand as he annotated them page by page.

The wall behind his desk had two high windows, and the rest was covered with photos and memorabilia.

Most coaches had bragging walls like this, though a fair share of Coach Jack’s was covered with pictures of his daughter, who was making her way up through the local youth volleyball programs.

“I told her any sport she wanted,” Coach Jack said when he saw Evan looking at the photos. “Any sport at all. She picked a sport I know nothing about. Youthful rebellion.” He took a seat and gestured for Evan to do the same. “How’s the season going for you so far?”

“Uh, pretty well?” Then he coughed and tried again.

“I think I’ve been doing okay. My line, we get pretty good zone time.

Not a lot of goals yet, but we’re still working on the chemistry, I think.

I was a little skeptical about working with Barczyk…

” A few weeks ago, this would’ve been where he made his case to get on a different line, even if it meant dropping to the fourth.

After mini-golf, though, they were kind of friends; he had to acknowledge that any on-ice issues were his fault. “But I think we’re getting there.”

“Glad to hear it. You guys had me worried there for a moment during pre-season, not going to lie, but I’ve liked what I’ve seen since then. The goals will come, and your line hasn’t given up too many.”

Evan preened at the praise…until he realized he wouldn’t have been called into the head coach’s office for a one-on-one if everything was fine. He knew the drill. Compliment sandwich: good comment, real comment about what he needed to improve, good comment, goodbye.

“But…?”

Coach Jack made a face. “So against the Pythons…”

Oof. He should’ve seen it coming. After that fiasco of a fight, it was a miracle Evan hadn’t been pulled aside mid-game.

“I won’t get in any more fights,” he blurted. “I know it was a disaster and—”

“Whoa,” Coach Jack said and put up his hands. “Let’s slow that down. I’m not here to say you should or shouldn’t fight.”

“…you’re not?”

“Well, you shouldn’t fight too much if you can help it,” he conceded.

“Really, I wanted to check in with you and talk about your style of play. You’re a big guy, and you’re using all of your assets to their fullest. Coach Mel said she worked with you and several of the guys on checking, and honestly, I’ve noticed an improvement in your game since then.

I was wondering if there was anything else I could do to help you come into your own and feel more comfortable with your physicality. ”

Evan didn’t know what to say to that, so he joked, “I don’t know. A membership to a boxing gym?” Coach Jack looked like he was considering it, so he quickly added, “I don’t actually want that.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Well, I’ve got the next best thing in mind. Barczyk.”

The bottom dropped out of Evan’s stomach. “What about him?”

“I think you could benefit a lot from working with him. He’s half your size and wins just about every fight he’s in.

Playing with him, you could learn a few things.

It’s part of why I put you two on a line together.

I figure your levelheadedness might rub off on him.

A pest is only as good as his temper, and no one so far’s been able to keep him in check. ”

Evan blushed. “I don’t know if I—”

“Relax, Abernathy,” Coach Jack said. “I’m not making Barczyk your responsibility.

Like I said, you’re a good influence. That’s all I need from you.

That and an actual win when you get in a scrap.

Six foot five and you lose to a guy who has to reach up to punch you.

All I’m asking is that you watch Barczyk and maybe, I don’t know, try to incorporate some of what he does into your game. ”

When he tried to imagine himself acting more like Barczyk in games, he couldn’t picture it. It was so foreign to him to say or do the things Barczyk did, it would be like wearing a costume, disingenuous at best and a complete train wreck at the worst.

“Not all of it,” Coach Jack continued. “Like I said, I don’t need you to fight, and I don’t want unnecessary penalties.

We’re looking for a few tweaks here and there, not a total 180 in your game.

You’ve got a great shot, and you skate harder than half my guys.

I’ve always appreciated that about you. You’ve got spirit, kid.

Lots of potential, and I can’t wait to see what you do with it. ”

“Thanks,” he said a little too earnestly.

Coach Jack was trying to encourage him, trying to point out parts of his game that he could improve, and, honestly, it was fantastic to hear that the only thing lacking was being more physical.

That meant everything else—i.e. basically 90% of hockey—was good.

He just needed to figure out if he cared enough about that final 10% to do something about it.

“But I’m serious. If you need anything from me, or Coach Mel, or any of the staff, we’re all ears. I know I ask a lot from you guys during the season, but it’s a two-way street. I’ll get you what you need if I can.”

“I appreciate that,” Evan said, because he really did.

There weren’t many coaches who would let you know privately what they thought you could improve on.

Throughout his youth hockey career, they’d very loudly and publicly said what they weren’t happy about.

The best way to show that appreciation would be to act on what Coach had said. “I’ll do my best.”

When he got back to the locker room, a lot of the team had already cleared out to hit the ice. There were only a few stragglers, and thankfully one of them was exactly who he needed.

“Hey, Abs,” Barczyk said when Evan slid next to him on the bench. “What’s—?”

“I’m in.”

Barczyk looked at him, head tilted in confusion. “In what?”

“For your fighting lessons. I’m in.”

“For real?” Barczyk’s eyes went wide. He looked like a kid on their birthday. “Fuck yeah, Abs! When do we start?”

Coach Jack walked through the locker room on his way to the ice, sparing an approving nod at Evan and Barczyk. Evan gulped and turned back to Barczyk. “How about today?”

“Today?” Barczyk winced. “I gotta take my cat to the vet, and she gets real pissy after.” But before Evan could get too down about it, he said, “Tomorrow after practice okay?”

Evan had absolutely no clue what his plans were tomorrow, but he’d make it work. “Perfect.” He held out his hand. “Tomorrow after practice.”

Instead of shaking his hand, Barczyk grabbed it and pulled him in for a hug that wasn’t more than their chests bumping together, then clapped him hard on the back. “Fuck. Yeah. Let’s fucking go!”

What had Evan gotten himself into?