Page 58 of High Sticks

"I have," I assured him, looking straight into his eyes. "It's a little bit of a gamble, but it's one I'm willing to take for the team, for this town, and for us."

I sensed a change in the room’s atmosphere. Skepticism still ruled, but there was also a hint of something else—hope, maybe. I felt even a little excitement.

A few people nodded. Others started to whisper back and forth.

Hoss suddenly stood. “This needs more discussion, but it’s the first alternative I’ve heard. Thank you, Pete, for giving us that.”

As the room slowly cleared out, the three scouts all slapped me on the back. I fielded a few more questions. Although support was still tentative, they were all listening.

When we were finally alone, I turned to Hoss. "So, what's the verdict? Am I out of my mind?"

He chuckled, "If you are, then maybe this town needs a little bit of crazy. I'm in. Let's give this damn plan a shot."

Suddenly, my long-shot idea felt less like a Hail Mary and more like the first step into a future I was dying to explore.

* * *

Lou’s was rowdy as ever, and I was happy about that. The sounds of laughter and clinking beer glasses meshed with the classic rock playlist blaring from the jukebox. It was a welcome change from the pins-and-needles vibe of the meeting. I headed directly to the bar, and Hoss followed. ”Beer?" he asked, but it wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"I'm definitely in need," I answered, leaning against the bar as he flagged down the bartender.

“Usual for both of us,” Hoss ordered, nodding in my direction.

The bartender slid both of our drinks across the counter to us. Hoss grabbed his Coke glass, and I took my frosty bottle.

"So," Hoss started. "How do you think it went?"

I shrugged. "Mixed bag. I mean, it's better than everyone ignoring the idea, right? At least there was chatter."

"Yeah, but I didn’t hear a lot of commitment yet,” Hoss pointed out, leaning his back against the bar and scanning the crowd. "Do you really think this town's gonna go for it?"

I gulped my beer. "To be honest, I don't know. But someone had to say something, and if someone forced me to place a bet, I'd bet on this town.”

Hoss turned to look at me. "You believe in this place, don't you?"

"With everything I’ve got," I responded. "And hey, if this doesn't work, we can always join the circus. I hear they're looking for lion tamers. Aren’t cougars related?”

Hoss laughed, shaking his head as if dismissing a ridiculous idea. But then he paused and said, “I guess I shouldn’t joke. If this goes sideways, lion taming might look good on a resume."

“I guess we’re at that do-or-die moment. If we pull this off, they'll build us a statue," I said, setting down my half-empty bottle. "You know, bronze. Lifelike. Maybe with me holding a playbook and you holding a...stopwatch?"

"Stopwatch? I was thinking of a Coke glass.”

We’d nearly finished our first round of drinks when I spotted a couple of our players sauntering into the bar. Their eyes lit up when they saw us.

"Coaches! What's up?" yelled Jensen, waving as he headed our way.

"Hey, you guys celebrating or what?" chimed in Taylor.

"We're contemplating life, the universe, and the future of Cold Pines hockey. It’s the usual," I said, tipping my almost-empty bottle their way.

Hoss chuckled. "What Pete said. But for me, make it sound less existential crisis-y."

Jensen laughed, leaning on the bar counter. "Geez, that sounds deep. Is there anything new we should know?"

Before I could answer, Hoss spoke up. "It's above your pay grade for now. Just focus on making sure you don’t miss shots next season, eh?”

Jensen smirked. “Aye, aye, Coach."

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