Off the Crossbar

by David Skuy

  Fortunately, he glanced over at the forwards before rejoining the defence line. Jake and Liam were charging after him. As they got close, Charlie jumped to the side and sent a left hook into Liam’s chin, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling to the ice. Jake wheeled around and waded in with a windmill of punches. Charlie held nothing back, and threw as many punches of his own. His father had been an amateur boxer, and had taught Charlie the rudiments of self-defence. So, although Jake was bigger, Charlie was able to land a few solid blows.

  Liam had jumped to his feet and was coming at Charlie, but before he could do any damage, Scott corralled him and threw him to the ice. Thomas went after Charlie next, but was headed off by Zachary.

  By this time, the two coaches were in the middle trying to break up the fights. Hilton grabbed Jake by the waist, picking him up as if he weighed just ten pounds, and carried him to the players’ bench. Jake struggled to break free, but he had as much chance of that as pushing over a full-grown oak tree. Tremblay took hold of Charlie’s sweater, but let go when he saw Charlie had no intention of persisting. In fact, Charlie was in a state of shock. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Tremblay went over to Matt to help him up and see if he was hurt.

  “Go to the bench — all of you — and I mean right now!” Hilton roared, pointing at the combatants. “The rest of you, continue the drill.”

  Jake, Liam and Thomas came over and sat at one end of the bench. Charlie, Scott and Zachary sat at the other.

  Hilton skated over. “A little intensity is a good thing,” he said quietly. “This, however, would be an example of way too much intensity.” He stopped abruptly. “It’s kind of difficult to talk to you when you’re at opposite ends of the bench. How about we compromise and meet in the middle?”

  The two groups shuffled over, still maintaining a healthy distance.

  “I guess that’s good enough,” Hilton said. He leaned in closer, removing his hockey gloves and laying them on top of the boards. “Guys, I don’t think I need to tell you how inappropriate that was. I realize emotions are running high. You’re all good players, and you have a good chance of making the team. But I’ve got to be honest with you. If I’m not convinced that this incident will be forgotten, then I don’t think I can offer any of you a spot on the team. The competition is tough enough without us beating each other up.”

  Shamefaced and downhearted, Charlie had to force himself to listen. He knew he was gone after this. He’d instigated the fight. It was his fault. Hilton didn’t seem the type to tolerate brawls at practice. All he’d wanted to do was stand up for himself, but he’d just gone and made things ten times worse.

  “You each need to make a decision,” Hilton continued. “You need to decide if this little feud is going to be a problem. If it is, then you may as well head to the dressing room right now. Or you can shake hands, and I’ll chalk it up to your competitive spirit. You decide, but make it quick.”

  For a moment the six boys sat still. Charlie felt sick. He knew Jake, Liam and Thomas would never shake hands with him. It was over. Suddenly, Scott reached over and extended his hand to Jake.

  “Hey, guys, sorry about this. I just lost my temper. I’m happy to forget about it.”

  Jake stared back at Scott. He thrust his chin out and bit down on his lower lip. Then with a shrug, he shook Scott’s hand, and Liam and Thomas did the same. Charlie then extended his hand. Matt was the first to take it. Jake hesitated briefly, but shook his as well. Liam gave Charlie’s palm a slap. Once they’d all shaken hands, the six players turned to see what their coach would say.

  Hilton chuckled, as if something funny had just occurred to him. “Get back out there,” he ordered, “and try to make the team.”

  The boys clambered over the boards. Charlie rejoined the drill, but the whistle blew before his turn. “Scrimmage,” Hilton shouted.

  Charlie skated to the red bench. He’d gotten lucky — no doubt about that. He still had a chance to make the team. The coach had gone easy on them. Mess up again, he told himself, and his luck would certainly run out.

  6

  ON BOARD

  “We’ve only got a little time left, guys,” Hilton called out, “so maximum effort from here on in.”

  Charlie took a seat on the bench. Scott sprinted to the boards, hopped over and sat next to him, with a silly grin on his face.

  “Let me tell you, Joyce,” he said in a relaxed, friendly tone. “Seeing you hammer Matt would have been worth not making this team, believe me.” He laughed deeply and punched Charlie on the shoulder pad.

  Charlie joined in, and said, “I don’t know if that was the smartest thing to do, but I admit it felt good.”

  Scott laughed even louder, slapping his knee with his glove.

  “Thanks for hauling Liam off me,” Charlie said, looking Scott squarely in the eyes. “Hopefully, I’ll have the chance to return the favour.”

  “Hopefully, you’ll get the chance while I’m pummelling Jake,” he whispered. He chuckled at the thought, and Charlie couldn’t help but do the same. He found Scott’s good humour infectious, and he was beginning to really like his defence partner. Always laughing and joking around, Scott didn’t seem to take things too seriously. But he also got the feeling that deep down Scott was someone he could trust.

  Tremblay interrupted with a light knock on each of their helmets. “It’s nice to see your little tussle didn’t dampen your good spirits,” he said with a chuckle. Scott and Charlie grinned back at him. “I’ve been thinking,” he continued, looking over at Charlie, “that perhaps our friend here is more comfortable playing forward.” He paused, and asked, “Am I right about that?”

  Charlie nodded eagerly. “To be honest, I’ve always played centre,” he said. He didn’t want to diss Scott, and so added quickly, “but I really like playing with Scott, so defence is fine.”

  Tremblay nodded and put an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “I appreciate that, son. It shows loyalty. But I’ll be honest. You play defence like a centre, so if you really want to help the team, and not make Scott cover three quarters of the ice in his own end, how about moving up? I’ll just find another partner for Scott — someone who is more comfortable playing defence — and we’ll be set.”

  Tremblay went off to the far end of the bench and returned with another player. “Boys, say hello to Nick.”

  “Hello, Nick,” Charlie and Scott said in unison.

  “Nick was playing right wing, when all along he wanted to play defence. How about a switch?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Nick said. “You look familiar,” he said to Scott as he sat down.

  “It could be because we’ve been going to the same school since grade one.”

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it.”

  “I’m a huge movie star,” Scott said.

  “Maybe that’s it.”

  Scott held out his glove to Charlie, who gave it a punch with his own. “You go score some goals,” Scott said good-naturedly. As he was leaving, he heard Scott wisecrack to Nick, “I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a defenceman tries to stop the other team from scoring.”

  Charlie shook his head. He knew he’d never get the last word in with him.

  Tremblay had pushed apart two players, and was pointing for him to sit between them. “Meet your new centre,” Tremblay said. Then the puck was dropped to start the scrimmage, so he left it at that and turned his attention to the game.

  Charlie was glad to see that Zachary was one of his new linemates. Charlie didn’t know the other winger’s name, although if memory served him, he wasn’t the strongest player.

  “It was about time you did that,” Zachary said.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “I hope I didn’t cost you a spot on the team.”

  “Can’t worry about that now.”

  Charlie reached down for a water bottle. He’d barely taken a sip when the whistle blew and Tremblay told his line to change it up. All three boys ho
pped the boards and made their way for a faceoff in their end, to the goalie’s left. Scott and Nick also came on, and once Scott was in position he begged Charlie to pull it back.

  Mike was lined up for the draw. Charlie had spent countless hours practising faceoffs in the basement of his old house. His sister would drop the puck, and he and his father would battle it out. They used to keep score, first to fifty won. Last year Charlie had begun to win more than he lost, so he was fairly confident he could win this draw — especially against Mike, who’d proven to be more loudmouth than player. The referee wasn’t quite ready, though, which gave Charlie a chance to check Mike out. He held his stick with a reverse grip, right hand down near the blade, and bent way over his skates, which were far apart. The blue team’s right winger was lined up at the top of the circle, his stick pulled back slightly for a shot.

  Charlie drifted into the circle. Mike probably thought he was solid, but in Charlie’s opinion he was completely off balance. The grip he used made it easier to draw the puck back, but his right hand was too low, so he didn’t have any power, and his legs were so far apart he couldn’t move.

  The referee blew his whistle. He held the puck out momentarily, and then dropped it between them. Charlie ignored the puck, instead tying up Mike’s stick. He struggled to get it free, but Charlie had position. He spun backwards to knock him off the puck, and calmly kicked it back to Scott.

  Scott hesitated slightly, and then fired the puck around the boards to Zachary, who had read the play correctly and was waiting at the hash marks near the boards. Charlie cut across the top of the circle, and Zachary hit him with a pass near the blue line. Charlie took it at top speed and zipped up the right side. He glanced quickly to his left. As expected, his left winger was too slow to be of much help, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Nick steaming up the middle.

  Charlie carried the puck over centre. Blue’s left defenceman had slowed, determined to stand Charlie up at the blue line. Charlie skated towards him, dipping his shoulder, as if to go outside. When the defenceman began to turn that way, Charlie cut inside. In a flash, he was by him. Nick had caught up, so they had a two-on-one. Charlie swerved to the right to open things up, and Nick slowed slightly to give Charlie a passing angle. The goalie was squared up to Charlie, far out of his crease, apparently confident that his defenceman would prevent a pass across.

  The defenceman bent down and laid his stick across the ice to make sure Charlie didn’t pass. That move decided the matter for Charlie. With a final burst of speed, he cut outside, with the puck on his backhand and charged for the right side of the net. This forced the goalie to commit to the shot, and also convinced the defenceman that Charlie would shoot. He even dropped to the ice, sliding on his side to block it. Just when it seemed Charlie had run out of room, he flicked a backhand over the sprawling defencemen’s legs across the top of the crease. The defenceman slid past the net; the goalie was on his knees and out of position, and Nick had an easy tap-in.

  The red players roared their approval. Nick pounded the air with his fist and raced over to Charlie.

  “That was too beautiful, my man.”

  He punched Charlie’s outstretched glove and whacked his shin pads with his stick. The other red players joined in, punching gloves and congratulating each other. Charlie felt incredibly relieved, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At least he’d shown Tremblay that he could play centre.

  Since they had scored so quickly, Tremblay left them out, and half a minute later that paid off in another goal. This time Charlie scored on a wraparound, after a smart pass from Scott. It was a buoyant group of players who headed off to the bench at the end of the shift. Charlie was totally stoked, and he could barely wait to get back on the ice. His wish was soon granted, and although they didn’t score this time, his line controlled the play, and Charlie almost put in another one with a hard slapshot from the top of the circle.

  Ten minutes later, the blue side scored a lucky goal to tie it up. Matt had gained control in red’s end and fired the puck to the front of the net, where it hit a defenceman’s skate and bounced in. The blue players all held their sticks up high to celebrate, and the players on the bench pounded the boards.

  Another few minutes passed and, with the faceoff in red’s zone, Tremblay put two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle. The ref’s head jerked around.

  “Time out,” Tremblay said.

  The referee blew his whistle and pointed to the red team’s bench.

  Tremblay pulled Charlie’s line aside, and waved for Nick and Scott to join them. “There’s only about a minute left. I’m putting you five out for the last shift. I know it’s just a scrimmage, and the score doesn’t matter, but I’d rather win than lose. If you get the chance, drive for the net and try to score.”

  The players nodded and headed to their zone. Charlie noticed Mike’s line coming out.

  “Hey guys, hold up,” Charlie said.

  They turned to look at him quizzically.

  Tremblay was right — they may as well try to win, scrimmage or not. “I got an idea,” he began. “Mike’s not the best faceoff man I’ve ever seen.”

  “Not according to Mike,” Scott quipped.

  “I think I can win the draw cleanly to Scott. Nick, you take off and get to the other side of the net and take a pass from Scott. I’ll take off up the middle. Nick fires it up to me, and if we’re lucky, I’ll be wide open …”

  They were all staring at him. Charlie swallowed hard. It hit him like a ton of bricks. He barely knew these guys, and here he was bossing them around, telling them to pass him the puck. What was he thinking? They must think he was the biggest jerk. Charlie braced himself for a response.

  “I’ll slap it hard so they can’t intercept,” Nick said. “It’ll either be a breakaway or an icing.”

  “I can hold their winger up,” Zachary said.

  “I’ll bank the pass of the boards so you’ll get it on your forehand,” Scott said, tapping Nick’s shin pads with his stick.

  Charlie didn’t say a word as he approached the faceoff circle. Were they just being polite, or did they really buy into the plan? He choked up on his stick and leaned forward. At the very least he’d better make good on his bragging and win the draw. Mike was giving some last-second orders to his winger lined up at the top of the circle, so he straightened back up.

  “Move over a few feet — to the left,” Mike ordered. “Listen up, dude. To the left, and I’ll pull it right onto your stick. Get ready to shoot.”

  The winger moved over a step — not enough to satisfy Mike, however. He skated over and tapped a spot on the ice.

  “Right here, dude. I want you to stand right here.”

  The winger moved over dutifully.

  “Let’s line up, blue,” the ref said gruffly.

  “Give me a minute, will ya?” Mike muttered. “Guy doesn’t even know where to line up on a faceoff. Pathetic.”

  Charlie forced himself to relax his shoulders, his eyes fixed on the ref’s hand.

  The puck dropped!

  Crash.

  Their sticks smashed together — but not before Charlie had sent the puck spinning back to Scott. Mike barrelled after the puck, leaving Charlie free to head up the middle. He didn’t look back, praying all the time that Scott and Nick had carried out the plan. As he crossed the blue line he spun backwards, and lucky he did, because the puck was ten feet away. True to his word, Nick had blasted the pass from behind the net.

  He stumbled momentarily to control the puck, but in a few strides he was off on a breakaway, the two defenders caught completely by surprise. In close, he faked to his backhand, waited for the goaltender to drop to his knees, and then pulled the puck to his forehand and tucked it into the corner on the stick side.

  Charlie pounded the ice with his stick and grinned widely as his teammates pounded him on the helmet.

  “Perfect pass,” he yelled in Nick’s ear.

  “Perfect play,�
�� Nick enthused, adding a whack on the back.

  Hilton blew his whistle and waved for all the players to join him at centre. Charlie took a knee next to Scott, Zachary and Nick.

  “That was great, guys,” he said. “I saw a lot of skill and heart out there. Of course, this is the tough part. I really think all of you could contribute, but like I said, we can only register fifteen skaters and two goalies. I’m going to talk with Coach Tremblay for a minute. Head in to the dressing room, and we’ll call you out with our decision.”

  Charlie reviewed the practice in his mind as he undressed. Obviously, the fight was the low point. But hopefully, he’d redeemed himself during the scrimmage. He had the feeling Coach Tremblay was on his side. He was the one who’d moved him to forward. Hilton had been pretty angry, though … It wouldn’t be long to wait, anyway.

  Mike walked into the room and practically threw himself down on the bench beside Charlie. “Totally bogus,” he fumed. “Ref drops the puck before I’m ready. Did that the entire game. You gotta admit the ref was totally lame.”

  Charlie shrugged. What could he say?

  “My stick wasn’t even down on that last play. You saw it,” Mike continued. “And as if the ice time was fair. This team is totally messed. I mean it.”

  “Tough for everyone,” Charlie managed. He began wondering if he would have been better off sitting next to Jake. He looked around for a place to move, but the room was jammed. He had to endure one complaint after another from Mike who ran down Hilton and Tremblay and practically every player.

  The door opened and Hilton walked in.

  “Dylan, Pudge and Zachary, can I please speak to you in the hall?”

  The three players returned a minute later. Charlie was sure Zachary had made it. That Dylan kid was okay too. Pudge was a solid defenceman, and even though he hung out with Jake and his crew, he seemed different from those guys.