by David Skuy
Hilton called Charlie’s name. His line was out next. Liam was carrying the puck across centre, but decided to dump it in and change. He and Matt peeled off towards the bench, but Jake continued on to forecheck. He was a notorious ice hog. Charlie could only hope for a whistle.
His hopes were answered almost immediately. Chesswood’s goalie decided his team needed a change also, and he covered the puck. Jake looked over at the bench and reluctantly came off when he saw Charlie jump over the boards. They skated past each other without saying a word.
“Come on, Charlie. Let’s win the draw,” Scott yelled.
Charlie steeled himself, lowered his stick to the circle, and sent the puck spinning back to Scott practically before it touched the ice. The centre forgot to tie Charlie up, surprised by losing the draw so cleanly, and Charlie was able to slip by and charge at the net.
Scott let the puck fly, hard and low to the stick side. The goalie dropped to his knees and the puck bounced off his pads right to Charlie. He didn’t hesitate a second, sliding the puck along the ice, just inside the right post.
The goal came so quickly that the crowd didn’t react at first. Only when his teammates came over to exchange high-fives and punch gloves did a loud cheer go up. Charlie felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It wasn’t the best goal he’d ever scored, but it sure felt good.
Charlie caught up to Scott.
“Great shot, Mr. Defenceman,” he said.
“Nice faceoff, Mr. Joyce.”
They started towards the bench, but Hilton waved at them to stay out. Charlie skated over to centre ice for the faceoff. He guessed the centre would be more aggressive on this draw, just after looking so foolish on the goal, and would try to pull the puck back to his defence. Charlie decided to use an old trick. He tied up his opponent’s stick before he could pull the puck back, kicked the puck forward between the guy’s skates, and spun around to pick it up behind him. The crowd roared its approval, and the Terrence Falls fans cheered Charlie on as he skated in on the two Chesswood defenders.
Neither winger was open, and Charlie was about to dump it in when he remembered his own advice — play with the confidence to make mistakes. Charlie barrelled in, both defencemen holding their ground, determined not to give up the blue line. He faked the dump in, dipped slightly to the left, and slipped the puck in between them, leaping high in the air. The defencemen tried to crush him with their shoulders. All they did was collide into each other. The crowd laughed at the comical sight and the two Chesswood players landed tangled up together on the ice. Charlie was in alone on a breakaway.
He shifted the puck between his forehand and his backhand. That kept the goalie guessing, and he stayed back in his net unsure of what to do. At the hash marks, the puck still on his backhand, Charlie veered sharply across the net, making it look as if he was going to deke to the stick side. The goalie dropped to a butterfly and slid over. Unfortunately for him, that was precisely what Charlie wanted. This was his favourite breakaway move, one he’d practised a thousand times, with his father, in pickup games, street hockey games, and at practice. He turned sideways, hesitated a moment, and then flicked the puck with a backhand over the goalie’s shoulder on the glove side.
This time the crowd didn’t wait. It let loose a tremendous cheer. Charlie had scored two goals on one shift. His linemates mobbed him as he skated back to the bench.
Much to his surprise, Hilton pointed to centre. He still wanted them out. Chesswood’s coach had seen enough, and he sent out a different centre. It didn’t slow Charlie and his linemates down, however. Charlie won the draw back to Scott, who slid it across to Nick, who in turn one-timed it to Zachary. The right winger trapped the puck with his skates and banked it off the boards up over centre.
Charlie anticipated the move, and had cut over to take the bank pass. Some Terrence Falls supporters called “get the hat trick,” but he wasn’t thinking about scoring. Pudge was charging up the middle, and he hit him with a pass a foot before the blue line. Pudge took it in stride and tried to split the defence. They managed to hold him up, but the puck squirted off to the left side. Charlie was on it like a hawk, swerving around to the right to avoid the pile of players. The left defenceman shifted over, straining to keep Charlie outside. Charlie had the puck on his backhand. He took his upper hand off his stick to hold the player off, and cut in on goal.
The goalie wasn’t going to let Charlie score again, and he completely overplayed him, straying far over to cut down the angle, even though Charlie had virtually nothing to shoot at, and the puck was on his backhand to boot. Charlie glanced over his shoulder and saw that Zachary had beaten his check to the net. He put his hand back on his stick and flipped the puck across the crease. The goalie was completely out of position, and Zachary one-timed it home for an easy score.
The Terrence Falls fans hooted and hollered for all they were worth. Most of the players were on their feet, high-fiving and slapping their sticks on the boards. The third goal even got a reaction from their usually reserved coach. Hilton clapped a few times — and allowed himself the luxury of a smile.
“Okay, boys, that’s enough. Let’s get focused. We have lots of hockey to play. Change it up,” he said.
The next line went out. Charlie sat down on the bench, thrilled by the goals. Tremblay came over and put a hand on his shoulder.
“That was the Charlie Joyce we’ve been waiting for,” Tremblay said.
“Thanks, Coach,” he replied.
“That wasn’t a bad shift, boys,” Zachary said. “And great play on that goal, Pudge. You were a tank out there. I think you almost killed those defencemen when they tried to hit you.”
Pudge blushed. “Charlie gave me a great pass. I couldn’t have missed it if I wanted to.”
Zachary would have nothing to do with his modesty. “Don’t give me that! You keep playing that way and we’ll score twenty goals this game. And you set up a beautiful screen for Scott’s shot on the first goal.
Pudge was tongue-tied. He managed to mumble, “Thanks,” and reached down for a water bottle as an excuse not to say anything more.
“Let’s put this game away now,” Hilton called out, pacing behind the bench. “One goal, and they’re back in it. We have to get the next one, so they know this game’s over. Stick to our game plan. Forget the score. It’s 0–0, as far as I’m concerned. Get the next goal!”
14
CHELSEA HEATS UP
Their coach need not have worried. Chesswood never recovered from the three quick goals, and the final score was 7–1. Charlie scored another goal early in the third, a slapshot from the slot on a pass from Pudge, giving him three goals and an assist, but he left the ice feeling relieved more than anything. The team had won! The only thing that bothered him was a game misconduct for Jake late in the third. The pesky Chesswood centre continued to shadow Jake even when the score became lopsided. Jake grew so frustrated that he cross-checked his tormentor in the back. That earned him a double minor. He argued the call so loudly that the referee added a misconduct. Jake followed that up by throwing his stick at the penalty box, which was why he got kicked out. He left his stick lying on the ice and stomped off to the dressing room. Chesswood scored its lone goal on the ensuing power play.
The happy mood in the dressing room was a stark contrast to yesterday. Everyone was talking and having a good time, everyone except Jake.
“Can’t believe what an idiot that ref was,” he complained to Liam. “Guy’s a total clown. How many times did I get hooked or held and that jerk was looking right at it?”
“Ref was totally clueless, for sure,” Liam sympathized.
“Could you believe that guy, Matt?” Jake said, casting about for support.
Charlie was amazed to see that Matt wasn’t paying attention. He turned his back on Jake to listen to Scott describe a run-in with a Chesswood player.
“So he’s telling me we got lucky, and it’s 6–1 at this point,” Scott said.
“He was lucky it wasn’t 10–1,” Nick said.
“I asked which goals were lucky.”
“What did he say?”
“He tells me all six,” Scott said, laughing. “So I asked him how many lucky goals did we have to score before they should count. He then tells me to take a hike, and I tell him I’ll do that as soon as we score another lucky goal.”
“Is that when he cross-checked you and got the penalty?” Matt interjected.
Scott nodded. “That’s the best part. I got the pleasure of waving to him after we got the power-play goal. I tried to thank him when he came out of the box, but he wouldn’t even look at me. He just kept his head down and skated to the bench.”
Hilton held his clipboard up in the air and whistled loudly.
“Can you keep it down a second please? First things first: that was more like it.” The players added their own cheers and whistles. “Second thing: we have another game in two hours. Win that and it’s into the quarterfinals. Lose and we’re out. That makes it easy to figure out what we need to do.”
Hilton pointed to two cardboard boxes sitting on the floor.
“We have some sandwiches and drinks, courtesy of Pudge’s father, who owns Bruno’s Bistro. Help yourself, and drink lots of water. Make sure you get good and hydrated. There are some doughnuts too, supplied by one of the tournament sponsors. Please go easy on those. A dozen donuts is not the best way to get ready for a game.
“Finally, Chelsea is playing next, and it would be a good idea for us to watch. So, unless you have a prior commitment,” he said, “why don’t you grab something to eat and join Coach Tremblay and me in the stands.”
“We’ll be the guys with the clipboards,” Tremblay quipped.
The game was halfway through the first period by the time everyone got dressed and found a seat. They all sat in one section, surrounding their coaches. As the game progressed, the two hockey men began dissecting the Chelsea team, pointing out their strengths and weaknesses, both as a team and with regard to certain players.
“Take a look at number three, for example,” Tremblay said. “Whenever he takes a pass, he looks down at the puck for at least a step or two. That’s too long, unless you’re absolutely sure no one’s near you. So if you’re forechecking, get on him real quick. He might not see you coming, and we can get a turnover.”
“That number twenty-one looks like a good player, and he’s a big guy too.” Charlie said. “He’s already plowed at least five guys into the boards.”
“His name’s Burnett,” Pudge told him. “He played Peewee Triple-A for the Snow Birds last year. He was the best defencemen in the league, and he came second in scoring to J.C. Savard, which isn’t too shabby considering Savard’s a centre.”
Burnett snapped a pass to his right winger just inside the line. The winger drove into the offensive zone, slowed down at the top of the circle near the boards, and then lofted a soft pass into the high slot back to Burnett, who’d been trailing the play. The defenceman stepped into the pass with a blistering slapshot and the puck streaked into the top left corner. The goaltender barely moved. That made the score 4–0, and the first period was still not over.
“Who’s Savard?” Charlie asked.
“You haven’t heard of J.C. Savard?” Pudge sounded astonished. “He’s the best Bantam player in the district, a regular Wayne Gretzky. He also played for the Snow Birds. Scored something like sixty goals last year, and I think he got even more assists. In my opinion, the only reason we won districts last year,” he said, in a lowered tone, “is that he got appendicitis and missed the playoffs. If he’s healthy — and the last I heard people only have one appendix — then we’re in tough if we play Chelsea.”
Charlie watched Savard hop over the boards and join the rush. He called for and received the puck, casually corralling the errant pass out of the air. He circled back towards his own end to gain some room. When the other team’s centre tried to poke the puck away, Savard slid it between his legs and cut past, weaving his way through the neutral zone. He gained the blue line and stopped at the top of the right circle, his teammates roaring past. He slid a pass down low to his winger camped out near the side of the net. The goalie and defenceman collapsed on the winger, who feathered a pass back to Savard in the high slot. He wristed it into the top corner, stick side.
It was hard not to admire Savard. Yet, Charlie knew they would have to stop him if Terrence Falls was going to win the gold medal. Although he didn’t mean it, he said to Pudge, “He’s good, but we can shut him down. We just have to pressure him, knock him around a bit. I’d like to test his toughness. The other team’s giving him way too much room. We need to be all over him, as soon as he touches the puck.”
Pudge nodded politely, and tried to look confident.
“Coach, I have a question,” Charlie said. “Wouldn’t you play the trap if you were coaching the other team, and try to keep the score down?”
Hilton thought for a moment. “The trap is a good idea, but I doubt this team could make it work against Chelsea.”
He pulled out a sheet of blank paper from a folder and quickly sketched a rink.
“The concept for the trap is simple. You want to make it difficult to get the puck out along the boards, forcing a team to try risky passes up the middle. It’s just a 1–2–2. One player forechecks in deep. The other two forwards line up at the blue line to cut off a breakout pass. The two defencemen back up the forwards, plugging the neutral zone. The tricky part is being able to shift across the ice so that you always have four players in front of the puck. As long as you can force the puck to one side and then stack that side with players, the attacking team will have difficulty breaking through.”
He handed the paper to Tremblay. “Why don’t you explain how to beat the trap.”
“A good rushing defenceman can beat the first fore-checker, so he’s not pinned to one side,” Tremblay said. “He can then use the whole ice, either carrying the puck himself into the neutral zone, or passing to a breaking forward. “Quick passes will also cut the trap to ribbons,” Tremblay continued. “You can swing the puck across the ice in your own end, and then move it forward before the other team can set up. The threat of a long pass at another team’s blue line also helps stretch the defence and makes it hard for the defencemen to stand near centre. If they drop back to cover, then the neutral zone opens up and it’s much easier to break through.”
“The trap also requires a fair amount of discipline and timing,” Hilton said. “You need to know when to push forward and when to back off. Everyone’s movements must be precise, and every player needs to know exactly what to do.
“To state the obvious, we’re not watching professionals. They haven’t had the time or training to make the trap work. That’s why Chelsea’s ripping them apart, and why it’s already 5–0.”
“So they shouldn’t play the trap,” Charlie conceded. “What should they play?”
“Hopscotch,” Scott said.
Hilton laughed, along with the rest of the team. “You might be right, Scott. I don’t think they have any real chance of winning. Maybe their only chance would be if Chelsea took the game for granted, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
Charlie watched as Chelsea scored goal after goal. By the third period, Chelsea was trying not to score. Even so, when the game ended, the final tally was 16–0.
A much humbler Terrence Falls team returned to the dressing room compared to the cocky bunch that had left an hour earlier. Charlie was under no illusions about Chelsea. Terrence Falls would have to pick their game up to a whole new level to win.
The door swung open, and Jake, Liam and Thomas came in. It struck Charlie suddenly that they hadn’t watched the game with the rest of the team. He noticed that a few of the other players were staring hard at the three boys as well. He wondered if he should say something. He was captain after all, and that kind of thing was not going to foster team spirit — just the opposite, in fact.
&nb
sp; The trio sat down in the far corner, joking about how bad Chelsea’s opponents had been. Charlie knew it was their way of showing off. Charlie agonized over what to do. Just then the two coaches entered, and Charlie decided not to say anything. He didn’t want to start something with the coaches in the room. And, captain or not, he was the last person they’d listen to. It would only make things worse, he reasoned. Charlie opened his bag and pulled out his pants and shin pads. He was relieved. But he also had a nagging feeling that he might have let his team down — again.
15
THE NAME GAME
Charlie enjoyed the cool morning air as he walked along his street to the corner store. He’d been the first one up at home. There was no milk for cereal, so he decided to get some. The night before, his mother had suggested he sleep in, but he couldn’t. He was still too worked up about yesterday. Terrence Falls had won all three of its games and made it to the semifinals. In the quarterfinals, with a minute to go and the score tied at two apiece, Charlie intercepted a pass at his own blue line. He had a clear breakaway the length of the ice. As he closed in on the goalie, he spotted Jake out of the corner of his eye, skating hard to catch up. Charlie slowed and drifted to the side. When he got in close, he faked a shot and slipped the puck across the crease. Jake arrived just in time to shovel it into the net. Charlie had also scored the first goal, and set Pudge up for the other, so he’d actually been in on all three goals.
Jake reacted as if he’d scored the goal single-handedly. He jumped up in the air, pumping both arms by his sides. And the heroics continued in the dressing room.
“That team was useless. We just needed some Jake action to seal the deal,” he boasted.
Jake was also dissing everybody — Charlie even took a few verbal shots. He could see that some of the guys were not impressed, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment by telling Jake off. They’d won, and that was all that counted.
