Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
We don’t have to be besties, but Coach Wilson is right and I should, at a minimum, be a better mentor for DeBoer. If not for his sake, for the love of the game and for my team.
“All right, who’s ready for some game time action?” I ask. A bunch of padded arms shoot into the air. “Split in half down the boards. Up to the goal, one at a time, and DeBoer and I will shoot at you. Block our shots . . . if you can.”
The kids laugh, several calling out things to the effect of “Challenge accepted!” and “Bring it on!”
The first kid takes position in front of the goal, and I hold up a hand. “What’s he doing wrong?” I ask the group, and the kids start to call out ways he can change his stance in front of the goal. He takes the helpful feedback, making the corrections. “Good. Now remember that when it’s your turn up. Every player who comes up, watch them critically. What’s good? What could be improved? How can you use that to better yourself?”
They nod, tuning in differently now. Not merely watching to see if their campmates block, but paying attention to how they do it as I shoot the puck at kid after kid.
After a bit, DeBoer and I switch places, and he continues the fun with the kids.
“Days!” a voice calls, and I turn.
Joy and her cameraman, Ellis, are standing on the edge of the ice behind me. She waves, but what I notice most is the way her smile lights up her face. “Keep going,” I tell DeBoer, and then I skate down the ice as fast as I can.
“Hey!” I say as I bump into the board to stop. My eyes roam over her, taking in her wavy hair, the way her dark liner makes her eyes look feline and sexy, and the glossy pink of her lips. She’s wearing a Moose-green sweater over a white-collared shirt, a delicate gold necklace, and black dress pants. It’s a different look than when I left her in bed this morning. Then, she was naked, her hair piled onto her head, and her mouth open as she snored softly in her sleep. I can’t decide which way I like her better. Honestly, I could drink her in no matter what she was or wasn’t wearing. I just like staring at her.
“Hi,” she says softly, her blue eyes taking me in too. I’m wearing workout clothes, not full pads, but I’m a sweaty mess after hours of practice with the kids. “Looks like you’re having fun out there,” she finally says. “Mind if we take some footage for the story on the camp?”
Coach Wilson did reach out to her about doing a special feature on the Moose camp, but it was after I’d already mentioned it to her and she’d excitedly called it a great idea. After she ran it by her boss, Greg, who agreed it’d be perfect for the holiday feel-good season, she’d come up with a plan, starting with video footage of the camp sessions, interviews with the parents and kids, and maybe a bit of behind-the-scenes with the players, a.k.a. me and DeBoer this morning, Shepherd and Hanovich this afternoon, and Voughtman and Pierre tomorrow.
“Not at all. All the parents signed waivers, and I think most of them are hoping to get their kid on the news as the next hockey phenom,” I tell her, glancing over my shoulder at the parents. “Let me rally them for you.”
Joy nods and turns to Ellis. “You ready for B-roll?”
The quiet man throws his camera to his shoulder, which seems to be answer enough.
I skate back to DeBoer and tell him what’s going on. “Every kid get a chance at goal?” Once he confirms they have, I say louder, “Circle up!”
As the kids surround us, I look them over. They look drained, but this should put a little spark of life back into them.
“Great job today, guys. One last thing . . . if you’re up for it . . .” I trail off and the kids nod eagerly. With a grin, I point toward Joy and Ellis. “See that lady down there? She’s from the local news station, does all the reporting on the Moose, and she’s doing a story on our hockey camp.” Whispers of excitement work their way through the group. “See the guy beside her? He’s recording for the story. Anybody want to maybe be on television a little bit?”
“I do!”
“Yes!”
A variety of other answers to the affirmative ring out, and I grin even wider.
“All right, remember the shuffle push drill from earlier? We’re doing that again, but this time, you’d better look like you learned something today,” I joke. “Line up on the far red.”