Off the Crossbar

by David Skuy

  “I figured Jake would try to take me out first — you know, cause I’m just a girl. I caught the ball — and now you’re out.” She raised her eyebrows a few times and grinned.

  Jake must have thrown at Julia at the last second. “How’d you know he’d do that?”

  Julia tossed the ball to him. “Jakey’s not as clever as he thinks.”

  A group of girls started chanting.

  “Ju-li-a! Ju-li-a! Ju-li-a!”

  “Girls rule — boys drool.”

  As her friends gathered around to congratulate her, Charlie eased himself away, uncomfortable among all those girls. He didn’t get away unnoticed, however.

  “What do ya think about the new champ, Charlie?” a girl said in a teasing voice.

  A few of the girls giggled. Julia elbowed one of her friends.

  “Don’t let them bug you, Charlie,” Julia said. “Most of them are demented anyway.”

  Charlie was overwhelmed. “I won’t,” he said with an awkward smile, beating a hasty retreat. He could only imagine what they were saying as he walked over to the storage room to put the ball away.

  “Joyce-man. What’s the deal-i-o?”

  Scott laughed, hands on his hips, with Zachary smirking behind him.

  “I didn’t see the throw,” he stammered.

  “Very interesting,” Scott replied. “But we were more interested in what you and Julia were talking about.”

  “What do you mean? When?”

  Zachary snorted. “Like right now, after the game. You guys seemed to be having an intense conversation.”

  “We barely said two words to each other.”

  “I think she would have said more if she’d had the chance,” Scott said.

  “Trust me guys,” he said. “I’d give you fifty bucks each if she even knows my name.”

  Scott slapped Charlie on the back. “Fork over the cash, Joyce. She knows your name.”

  He and Zachary shared a chuckle together, as if they were in on some secret joke. Charlie held up his hands in mock surrender. He was about to respond, then decided to just change the subject by asking them about Pudge.

  “I had a great idea,” he began. “I found a left winger for Zachary’s and my line.”

  “Sidney Crosby has decided to play for us,” Scott joked.

  “Not that I know of,” Charlie said. “And he’s a centre, anyway.”

  “You can be replaced,” Scott said.

  “Listen,” Charlie said. “I was talking to Pudge before school — and then it hit me.”

  “Like a thunderbolt,” Scott interrupted. He turned to Zachary. “I’ve heard love hits that way too. Like after a dodge ball game, two people can suddenly fall in love and …”

  Charlie cut him off. He was in no mood to joke around about him and Julia, not that there was anything to joke around about. “I had an awesome idea — we should ask Hilton to move Pudge up to left wing to play with me and Zachary. We could totally use his size down low in the corners and in front of the net, and since he played defence, he’d be pretty responsible in our own zone.”

  Zachary shrugged, seemingly unimpressed.

  “He’s always struck me as a stay-at-home defence type, and not all that good with the puck,” Scott said. “I doubt he’d make much of a forward. And, between you and me, I don’t think he even deserves to be on the team. He just made it because he’s part of Jake’s little club, and he’s Thomas’s defence partner. What’s he ever done in practice?”

  “I think he’s a solid player,” Charlie said. “He almost never makes a mistake. He plays the body well, he’s rarely out of position, and he’s a lot faster than you think. I’m really stoked about the idea — it’ll be a good move.”

  “Zachary, what do you think?” he asked his left winger directly.

  Zachary shrugged again. “I guess he couldn’t be much worse than what we’ve been playin’ with so far. Can’t say I noticed him at the tryouts or the practices. Figured he was part of Jake’s crowd, is all. Don’t really know the dude. If you think it’s a good idea, then whatever.” He paused and added, “Although, I gotta tell you, I’m not really stoked about having one of Jake’s boys on our line.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Charlie said, more than happy to take that as a yes. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  “You go for it,” Scott replied.

  Not the most positive response, but at least they hadn’t said no. Unfortunately, the big hurdle was still ahead of him — Hilton. He’d have to wait until after school to talk to him. Charlie followed Scott and Zachary into the locker room. Science was his last class of the day, and then they had a practice. He showered and changed as quickly as he could. His teacher had threatened him with a detention if he was late again.

  9

  SHINNY SHENANIGANS

  Practice was scheduled to start in thirty minutes — and Charlie was still waiting by the front doors for Hilton. He must have missed him somehow. Charlie began to jog down the street towards the arena. Not only would he have to tell Pudge that he’d messed up, he’d probably be late for practice. Hilton would love that. He looked back at the school. Nothing seemed to go right.

  His luck proved better than he’d thought, however. He spotted Hilton driving out of the parking lot. Charlie spun around and charged back, waving his arms furiously. He breathed a big sigh of relief when Hilton slowed down and pulled over.

  The window lowered. “Are you practising today?” Hilton asked. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I’m fine. I wanted to talk to you about something. I thought you’d come out the front, but I guess you took the side door. Anyway, could I ask you about something before practice?”

  Hilton reached over and opened the passenger door.

  “Come on in,” he said. “We’re a bit late, so you may as well come with me. We can discuss whatever’s on your mind while we drive.”

  Charlie got into the car. He felt extremely nervous. He seemed to get that way whenever he was around this man. It was not that he didn’t like him — just the opposite. Hilton most definitely knew his hockey — Charlie had already learned a great deal about the game after only a few practices. And he even made English class interesting! He hadn’t spent any one-on-one time with him, though, and Charlie always felt uncomfortable with new people.

  Hilton started driving, while Charlie desperately tried to think of how to broach the subject. Fortunately, Hilton came to his rescue.

  “So what is it you wanted to talk about?” he said.

  Charlie took a deep breath and launched into it. “It’s no big deal, really. I just wanted to bounce an idea off you, about the team, and about my line.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Zachary and I were thinking about all the left wingers we’ve been playing with the last few scrimmages. We seem to have cycled through three or four different guys already — a different one every practice, it seems. We’re a little worried about it because nothing is working too well. So far nobody seems to play the same game as Zachary and me. I like to get the puck early, and carry it at the defence, then make a quick play to my wingers. Zachary knows exactly what I want, like he knows what I’m about to do almost before I do it. The other guys just don’t get it very well. Passes aren’t getting to us on time, and everything’s disconnected.”

  Charlie fell silent. This wasn’t going well. His coach didn’t look impressed. And small wonder! He’d just told him that the other players weren’t good enough for him and Zachary. He barely knew the man, had started a brawl at practice, and now was criticizing his teammates! The coach must think he was a total jerk.

  Hilton didn’t say a word. He just waited for Charlie to continue.

  “That didn’t really come out the way I wanted,” Charlie began. “Let me start over. What I meant to say was that the guys we’ve played with have all been great. They have lots of skills, good skaters, and good with the puck too … I’m having trouble saying i
t, but, for whatever reason, we haven’t played very well together. Have you ever played with certain guys, and the game seems so simple and fun? That’s the way it is with Zachary and me. We just click on the ice — and we haven’t clicked with the other guys. And I have a feeling you think so too, because you’ve moved so many wingers on and off our line.”

  He looked over at Hilton. “Is any of this making sense, or am I sounding like an idiot?”

  “You’re not sounding like an idiot,” Hilton said, looking over at Charlie. “I know what you mean. Some players suit your style, and you can’t exactly say why.” He shrugged. “You get on the ice with other players, even guys who are much better, and you never get anything started.”

  “That’s it,” Charlie broke in eagerly. “I’m not criticizing the other players. I just know that the team would have an awesome line if we could find a left winger who was more in sync with how we play.”

  “So you think your line will be awesome?”

  He shouldn’t have said that. Now it sounded as if he was bragging about how great a player he was. “I’m not saying we’d be the first line. I know Jake, Liam and Matt are the first line,” he stammered. “I meant that we would be another strong line. We could take the pressure off Jake, and maybe score a few goals also.”

  “So you think your line will score a lot of goals?”

  Charlie wanted to jump out of the car. If he kept this up, he’d be lucky to be on the team, let alone get Pudge moved to forward.

  “No, that’s not it. I mean, I hope we do, but I’m not saying we will, like a guarantee or anything. It doesn’t really matter who scores, I guess. We just want to win.” His voice trailed off. He was lost. He didn’t know what to say next.

  Again, Hilton helped out. “You were going to ask me about something?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then you’d better hurry, because we’re at the rink, and practice starts in about fifteen minutes.”

  He parked the car and turned to face him.

  Charlie decided his best bet was to pretend that the three of them had played together before — the experience factor. He couldn’t do worse than he’d done so far, he reasoned.

  “Zachary and I were playing together on the weekend, just some shinny — no big thing — and Pudge was there too. We somehow ended up on the same line. I don’t know how, because Pudge always plays defence. Before school started I played some pickup at this rink, and Pudge played defence the whole game. Of course, no one plays their position for too long in shinny — I guess you’ve played a few pickup games in your life?”

  Hilton nodded, a slight smile creasing his features.

  “So this is the thing. Once we got on the ice together we were practically unstoppable. It was totally bizarre. Pudge never played forward in his life, at least that’s what he told me after. And you wouldn’t necessarily think of him as a forward. He’s a stay-at-home defenceman, always headmanning the puck. I don’t think I’ve even seen him take a rush, or even try to. You should have seen him, though. He was all over the ice. He’s got a great shot, and with his size, he’s almost impossible to move from in front of the net. He’s fantastic in the corners, digging the puck out and centring it to Zachary and me. He must have scored four or five goals, and set me up for another four.”

  “You were playing shinny on the weekend?” Hilton asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Where?”

  Charlie hesitated. What should he say? There was no backing down now.

  “We played here,” he said.

  “What time was the game? I didn’t know they had a regular shinny game on the weekend.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s a regular game,” Charlie said.

  “Okay. What time was the game?”

  “I can’t remember exactly. I think it was in the morning — early in the morning.”

  “As in six in the morning?”

  “Not that early. It was around eight or nine. I’m not sure, but I think it was around then.”

  Charlie’s mind was reeling. Hilton wasn’t buying into the pickup game — that was obvious. Why’d he even say that? All he had to do was come straight out and ask. Lying was the worst thing to do — and to be caught! This idea was headed straight for disaster. In fact, disaster was not going far enough. All he wanted to do was get out of that car and go home.

  “We only have six defencemen on the team,” Hilton said. “Someone will have to move back. I’m not sure who could do it. I’d have to put some thought into it. If I’m not mistaken, Pudge has played with Thomas for a few years, both with a club team and on the grade-eight school team. I’d hate to split them up.”

  Charlie was so relieved that he’d stopped asking about the invented pickup game, that he wasn’t too disappointed that Hilton didn’t like the idea.

  “I appreciate that,” he said. “No big deal. I just wanted to ask, that’s all. If you don’t think it can work, then forget about it.”

  “I didn’t say that. I just need to consider it a bit more. Why don’t you leave it with me, and we’ll see how it goes.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Have you checked this out with Pudge?” he asked sharply.

  Charlie was confused. Was he going to actually consider it, even after his ridiculous story about an early morning pickup game? He nodded slowly. “He’s all for it. We talked about it. He said he’d always played defence, but would move up if it helped the team. He thought it would be fun, playing forward, that is.”

  “I was a forward back in my time,” Hilton said, “so I can understand that.” He laughed. “To be honest, I never could understand defencemen. How can you stay back all the time, waiting for the other team to attack? One mistake, and there’s a goal in the net. I could never do it. Too selfish, I guess!”

  Charlie laughed also. “You could be talking about me too.”

  Hilton looked at his watch. “You’d better get a move on,” he said. “Practice is in less than ten minutes, and you’ll be late if you don’t hustle.”

  “No problem,” Charlie said.

  He got out of the car and closed the door. After a few steps he stopped, came back, and opened the door.

  “Thanks a lot, Coach,” he said, closing the door again and running off to the rink. He sprinted through the lobby towards the dressing rooms.

  It was a miracle, but he had a feeling that things had somehow worked out. Hilton was certainly an interesting person. You never knew what he was thinking. If he would only give Pudge a try on the wing. Charlie had a feeling that it would only take one practice together to prove themselves.

  10

  THE VOTE

  Charlie barely made it onto the ice before Hilton blew his whistle and waved the players to centre.

  “We’re going to work on some forechecking and offensive zone coverage today,” Hilton announced. “We can scrimmage a bit at the end, if we have time. Coach Tremblay couldn’t make it, so bear with me and try to listen. Some of this stuff is a bit technical, but it’s important, so let’s try to concentrate for the next half an hour.”

  He held up a large whiteboard with rink markings on it, and invited all the players to kneel down in front of him. “This is how I’d like to pressure the other team on the forecheck. The hockey world calls it the left-wing lock.”

  “What about the trap?” someone called out.

  Hilton shook his head. “I don’t like the trap — and certainly not for high-schoolers. We’re going to play a more aggressive style. Anyway, listen up. The basic concept is simple. Look here.”

  He rapidly sketched his forechecking scheme on the board.

  “The X marks the puck, and we’re the Os. Assume the puck’s been dumped into this corner. The player closest to the puck, the right winger in this case, is the first forechecker and he pressures the puck in deep. The next player, usually the centre, plays up high, around the top of the circle, and moves to where the defenceman is most likely to pass it, us
ually up the boards or around the net. The two forecheckers take turns pressuring the puck, cycling the zone while the puck flips from side to side. The idea is to pressure the defence into passing early, so we can get a turnover inside the line.

  “Meanwhile, the other three players spread out in a line across the ice in the neutral zone. They divide the ice into three equal zones, and each player is responsible for covering that zone, all the way back to his own net. The defencemen line up behind the two forecheckers, with the left winger next to them. It’s critical that these three players resist the temptation to go in deep. They must stay in the neutral zone, waiting for a turnover, clogging the middle, and trying to intercept any breakout passes.”

  Hilton lowered the board and looked at his players. “I like this forechecking style because it forces defencemen to make quick choices, and if they make a mistake we have a good chance of getting the puck. The Detroit Red Wings made it famous in the mid-nineties, taking advantage of their forwards’ speed. I want to do the same, using our foot speed to break down the other team’s defence. Finally, while it’s aggressive, it does leave one winger back. If done right, we won’t have any three-on-twos or two-on-ones. We have to avoid those at all costs. So, any questions?”

  No one put up a hand.

  “Either you guys are absolutely brilliant, or no one understood a word I just said,” he laughed. “Let’s find out. To start, I want Jake’s line up. Give me Nick and Scott on defence. I’ll have the puck in the right corner, and we’ll go through it a few times, just to work on positioning. Everyone else pile onto the bench, and watch closely. We’ll switch it up, so everyone gets a turn.” He paused, and added, “Pudge, I want you up with Charlie’s line for this. Adam, you move back and play with Thomas.” He didn’t wait for any reaction, skating off with the puck to start the drill.

  Charlie couldn’t believe it. Just like that and it was done. He skated over to Pudge.

  “You’re amazing,” Pudge said. “I didn’t think he’d even give me a chance.”

  “You have no idea how amazing this is. I sounded like a total spaz when I asked him. I started telling him about how we played together on the weekend.”