Page 52 of The Rebound Plan

The most important part of this morning is not just Malik and Jamie learning from Thea and Foster, but also learning how to watch better hockey players the way the skills coach and trainer do—with professional objectiveness. Like scouts. Because there’s a lot of pre-scouting done for us for games, but we need to do it, too. Watching tape. Remembering guys from game to game—which isn’t easy, since we don’t play the same team more than a few times a year, unless we get them in the playoffs.

Zondi doesn’t disappoint. He makes the same comments I would, which is impressive for a twenty-one-year-old. Mason gets a little caught up in the battle, just cheering, but he’s a younger prospect, and will get it in time.

Thea blows her whistle after Hiro wins the puck battle. “Now we’re going to do it down by the net. Foster is going to be our goalie this morning. While he gets his pads and helmet on, let me run through the plan here. The name of this game isget to the net.That’s the end goal. Get in the corner, win the puck, get it to a teammate, and then get to the net.” She points to me. “Why is that, Armstrong?”

“Because goals are scored at the net.”

“Correct. How many of us were the best shot on our minor teams?”

We all raise our hands.

“And in junior?”

They all keep their hands up. Mine comes down, because the Scottish whiz kid on ice was just average in the Toronto competitive leagues. I glance at Thea, silently asking if I can say something.

She smiles. “I bet Russ has some insight on this.”

“Quick story. By the time I made junior, it was clear that while I had a lot of hockey skill, I wasn’t going to out score other forwards. I even switched to D for a bit, which wasn’t for me. I came back to being a forward with the right coaching, but always in a shut-down role. Nobody has ever expected me to score a lot of goals. But the only reason I ever do is because I know how to get to the blue paint.”

Thea nods. “You’re going to have this screamed at you by coaches across your NHL career. We’re trying to help provide the context for that now, so it’s easier to adjust your game accordingly.”

Foster skates onto the ice, all geared up to have puck battles right in front of him.

Thea points me at the boards behind him. “Do a skate around, pretend to to have a battle, and come to the point.”

I glide behind the net, then bump into the boards where she’s dumped the puck, duelling with an imaginary opponent before snapping the puck wide and clear. Breathing hard, I go straight to the edge of the blue paint, right in front, providing a screen for someone to make a shot on the net.

Thea does just that, trying to go five-hole.

Jenson blocks it easily, and I chip it right in.

“Perfect,” Thea calls. She takes off her glove and counts out what she liked about my play. “Rusty wasn’t interfering with the goalie at all, but he got into the perfect spot—and he’s big enough, and tough enough, nobody will be able to move him from that spot. You are all going into training camp in a blessed position. The NHL always needs guys who can do what Rusty just did. Get to where someone like Jenson Hale or Hiro Watanabe can put the puck, and they will find you every fucking time. Now let’s do that with some actual battling, mmkay?”

I get out of their way and skate to the far end of the ice, where I’m surprised to find Emery watching.

I skate to the door in the boards and head off. She meets me on the rubber mat, and follows me into the empty dressing room.

“When did you get here?” I reach back and yank the velcro that holds my jersey to my pants.

“A few minutes ago.”

I glance up at the tight note in her voice. “Everything okay?”

She makes a face.

“Oh no. Buzz, what happened?”

“Shannon didn’t want to watchCutting Edgethis morning.” Her voice sounds really small.

I pause, waiting for the rest.

But apparently, that’s it. Emery stares at me, like I’m supposed to interpret this in a significant way.

“So you drove twenty minutes to tell me this?”

“Russ!”

“What?”

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