Page 22 of The Stud

One more repeat of the action is executed prompting Coach to take the reins back afterward.

“You will see theeditedversion of that in the locker room and use it in interviews; however, theentiremotto matters, just like every single member of this franchise that signs up to put this dragon,” he taps the emblem on his jacket, “on their chest whether they’re front office or scrubbing the team bus. And you will treat them that way, or you will not play. You will treat them that way or you will notstay.” Blanc folds his hands behind his back. “Have I made myself heard?”

“Yes, Coach!”

“Good.” A suspicious smile suddenly slips into place. “You boys ready to train?”

“Yes, Coach!”

His nodding is followed by him giving a small wave to someone in the distance. “I’m a firm believer in building success off the basics. So, practicestartswith the basics, ain’t that right, Matty?”

The small grunt out of our Czech player gets most of us chuckling.

“Balanceis what you boys need. On and off the ice.” The grin on his face wildly grows. “So, balance is where we begin.” Our equipment team brings unsuspecting items to all four of our team coaches. “Who here got pegged by a giant bouncy ball in Mites or lower?”

Random hands fly into the air, including mine.

“That’s the shit we’re doing today,” Coach proudly declares. “We wanna minimize ankle injuries – we had at least three last season. We wanna cut back on those pulled muscles – we had at least four of you nursing them when it could’ve been avoided. And most importantly, we wanna shave down the amount of time you spend on your knees versus your skates.” Bricks hands him an oversized, neon pink ball. “You don’t hit the ball. You simply use your body totakethe hit. Youstayupright you get tostayon my ice. You don’t?” He kicks his head in the direction of the locker room. “You hit dry land and do balance drills for the next sixty.”

Cap curiously angles his head to one side and asks, “The catch?”

“Allfourof us,” other balls are delivered to the assistant, skating, and goalie coach, “will be throwing these.” An even more villainous expression takes over his almond shaded face. “Meaning at any time you could be being attacked from all directions.”

To my surprise, Cap lightly chortles. “The real challenge.”

“For some of you,” Coach offhandedly chuckles back.

“That’s it?” Payne cockily pokes. “You called us up here to do Bush League shit?”

“Novácek,” Matty mirthfully mutters underneath his breath, having made a similar mistake last season.

“Shit they probably don’t even do in Beer League?” Payne continues to complain. “Shit that-” Skating Coach Keats Bass’s bright neon ball suddenly hits him in the face not only knocking him off balance but his ass onto the ice. “Fuck!”

“Dry land, call up,” Wahl smugly snickers.

“That’s not fair!” whines Payne already proving to live up to his nickname. “I wasn’t ready! I wasn’t-”

“You don’t make the rules, you fucking pheasant,” grunt the Goonie Tunes in tandem.

“Off my ice,” Coach commands prior to diverting his attention back to the crowd. “As for the rest of you?” Childlike joy clomps through his complexion. “You might wanna wheel.”

There’s no hesitation for us to part in various directions.

Some of us choose to skate backwards to keep our eyes on those with weapons while others rush to find the “safest” zones they possibly can.

Too bad it doesn’t matterwhereyou end up, so much ashowyou handle the hit.

Having stability.

Being centered.

A neon ball comes soaring my way forcing me to skid to an abrupt stop near the glass; however, rather than hit me – which is what I brace for – it hits Wahl who happens to plant himself between me and the object. After the child’s toy effortlessly bounces off his solid figure, he glances over his shoulder and chuckles, “Always on the D.”

That he is.

The type of defenseman whoalwaysprotects his team.

Quickly glancing around the rink leads me to noticing that Cap is out there doing the same, swiftly extending his frame into a t-shape to protect nearby forwards or centers.

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