Page 49 of I Blame the Alcohol

I hear Mo chuckle as his Vancouver Canucks jersey comes into view.

“Between the two of us, I’m supposed to be the old man.”

“Asshole.”

He chuckles some more, offering a hand and pulling me to my feet. The smirk on his face is the same one I used to see every practice, as is the familiar urge to slap it away. A prick of nostalgia runs through me and suddenly the weight of these past few months comes crashing down on me.

“I’ve missed you, Mo. The team doesn’t feel the same without you.”

The truth has my body deflating like a popped balloon.

Besides getting injured and having my players threaten to forfeit out of loyalty, the only thing I’ve brought to the team is a tournament upset with our rivals, the Silverwood Sabers. We aren’t out of the running for the championship banner, but we’re a hell of a lot farther than we should be.

Mo sighs, running a hand through his hair. The impeccably gelled strands don’t move an inch.

“I miss being part of the team. The camaraderie, the shit-talking, the pre-tournament anxiety, all of it.”

He shakes his head, gently twirling the lacrosse stick between his fingers, “Jonathan has me climbing the corporate ladder. It’s okay, I guess. Board meetings are hell, but the income is respectable.”

I study my mentor, noticing the dark groves under his eyes for the first time. It’s the only imperfection on the guy’s face, but it’s enough to show he’s human.

“Have you ever thought about working elsewhere? You could be Taber’s one and only head coach.”

I say the last part as a joke, partly because there’s no way Mo would ever settle for the measly income he would no doubt receive, but also because it’s impossible to see Mo uprooting his life to move back to Taber. He enjoyed his time there, but he also made it very clear he was never coming back.

Too much of a small town, too many familiar faces he used to say.

“Father would never allow it. And if he cut me off…” Mo shrugs, raw honesty washing through his features, “I wouldn’t have the means to support myself. Not right now, anyways.”

I nod in understanding. When it comes to wealth, I didn’t have a quarter of the funds Mo grew up with, but I do know what it’s like to stay at a job because it’s the only way to gain enough freedom to be who you want to be.

“That’s tough.”

“Yeah.”

The start of a smile flickers across his face, “How are you liking being captain?”

“It’s hard.”

Mo throws his head back and laughs, the booming sound echoing around the empty gym, “Not all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

I glare, feeling more insulted by the second, “I mean, it’s rewarding but it’s a lot for one person to take on. Especially when there’s no coaches to take on some of the training.”

That’s the one downfall with Taber University: there are no head or assistant coaches. It’s far from university standard, but after some serious budget cuts a few years back, the university had to choose to either cut the team or reduce the supporting staff. And given the sad number of varsity teams Taber already had, the decision was easy.

The downfall is whoever becomes captain has to double as both teammate and coach on and off the field. That means hours spent creating workouts and planning practices in addition to being the leader and role model for all the new rookies.

It’s a lot for anyone to handle, never mind a full-time student.

“Do you think it’s worth it?”

The question feels like some sort of test, but all that's reflected back at me is genuine curiosity.

“Some days. Others… I’m not so sure.”

I expect the honesty to disappoint Mo, but he surprises me by nodding.

“There’s more to life than being a varsity captain. Hell, there’s more to life than being a varsity athlete. Just the time commitment is a bigger sacrifice than most people realize.”

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