by Melanie Ting
Sharon had her own home reno business now. She hired women whenever possible and paid top rates, so she was able to deliver jobs reliably. She was already booked up for the next year and trying to figure out how she could expand. Too bad I didn’t have any construction skills because Sharon would have hired me in a second.
“Helloooo?” A male voice called from downstairs. “Is my whole family here?”
“Upstairs, darling,” Wendy replied.
“Whoopee, Wayne’s awwived,” Sharon muttered. I shot her a warning look. Sharon secretly mocked the fact that everyone in the Harris family had “W” first names by using an Elmer Fudd accent and as many W words as she could stuff in a sentence.
Wayne bounded up the stairs. He was a cheerful man, heavy-set with a broad smiling face. “I saw that dinner was all ready, so I figured you couldn’t be too far away.” He kissed Wendy on the cheek.
“You should have some of this pinot noir,” his wife advised. “It’s lovely.”
“A wwwunderful wine,” agreed Sharon.
I reached for a new wine glass, but he shook his head. “I’ve got a nice Cab breathing on the counter to go with the roast. I’d like to save my palate for that.”
“Wickedly wise of you,” said my evil best friend.
“Actually, this is perfect timing.” Wayne rubbed his palms together. “Wendy tells me you’re looking for a job, Jackie.”
I nodded, and he continued. “Well, you know that my company does executive relocation. We have a lot of clients, including the Vancouver Millionaires hockey team. Anyway, their farm team, the Vice, have hired a new coach, and we’ve been asked to pull together a furnished two-bedroom suite for him. I was thinking that this would be exactly the kind of job you might be able to do. Wendy’s always admiring your place, and she tells me you’ve got a real nose for bargains.”
Wendy’s own nose wrinkled up. “Wayne! That’s not a good job for Jackie. You told me it was half the budget and a quarter the time of your normal projects. Besides, she has no experience.”
He patted his wife on the shoulder. “I know, dear. Look, Jackie, I’ll be honest with you. Normally, we wouldn’t even touch a job like this. The Vice don’t have the big budget of an NHL operation. However the Millionaires are good clients, so I agreed, but I don’t have anyone available to work on such short notice, and then I thought of you.”
“Jackie’s not going to want to do this,” Wendy protested. But only a few minutes ago, part-time shifts at Michael’s were good enough for me.
“Actually, it does sound interesting. What would I have to do exactly?” I asked.
“It’s pretty simple. We have a leasing agent, he’s already looking for a place, and then we’ll send you in to furnish it. You’ll have a budget, and it won’t be a huge one. But he’ll need everything: pots, pans, sheets, the whole she-bang. First, I’ll set up a meeting with Fiona—she’s one of our most experienced designers. She can give you a rundown on what the basics are.”
My excitement rose. I loved decorating almost as much as I loved bargain shopping. I was famous for my “shopping bible,” which was a list of secret sources for anything home-related. “Who is this coach?”
“Leo something. Goatee or some name like that,” Wayne replied. “I’ve never heard of him, but I don’t know anything about the AHL. They’re pretty hot on him, or they wouldn’t be giving him all these perks. Most guys at that level have to find their own housing.”
“Will he tell me what he likes? I’d hate to paint the place blue and find out he hates it.”
“From what I hear, he doesn’t seem to care too much. It’s going to be him and his daughter. Maybe not too froufrou. But I’ll get you his number, and you can talk to him yourself.”
“When does this have to be done?”
“Yesterday,” Wayne replied with a grin. “The guy’s already here and staying in a hotel.”
I hugged Wayne. “Thank you so much. This job sounds amazing.”
Wendy shook her head. “You don’t even know how much it pays yet. This is going to be a lot of work in a very short time.”
“But it’s something I know I can do,” I replied. I had furnished our house on a budget. We bought before Brent was making good money, and our huge mortgage meant there was nothing left for furniture. I’d managed to transform hand-me-downs and garage sale finds into a lovely home. Even Brent acknowledged that the place looked like a million bucks on a miniscule budget.
The Harrises got ready to leave. Wayne told me to come by after dinner, and he’d print out a contract. “It may not pay a fortune, but it’ll be better than what you’re making at that art store.”
After they’d gathered up Wyatt and left, I had a quick panic attack. “Oh my God, can I even do this job? Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
Sharon nodded. “It’s right up your alley. And if you do a good job, who knows, maybe Wayne will hire you again. Or maybe you can get work staging homes or something.”
“Yes. It’s work experience. Something real I can put on my résumé.”
I felt happier and more optimistic than I had in ages.
4
Welcome to Shitsville
Leo
Lucky stood at the end of the dressing room before morning practice and addressed the team.
“Gentlemen, as you know, Bob Pankowski is still recovering in hospital. The latest update is that he’s already begun his rehab, so that’s a good sign of progress.” He paused, and there were a few nods and grunts of appreciation.
“Great news,” one player piped up. It was Rico Aleppo, the winger that Barber had been shitting all over at last night’s game. Last night when I finally got to the hotel, I’d gone through team roster on the programme and matched every face to their stats.
“Unfortunately, Bob won’t be able to return to coaching for a long time,” Lucky continued. Nobody looked particularly shocked at this news. Pankowski was on the last year of his contract, and with the team’s iron grip on last place in the league, there was no chance he was getting renewed. “Anyway, as you know, we’ve made a few changes in our management and ownership group in the past month. We’ve got a new commitment to winning here at the Vice. And as part of this commitment, I’m proud to say that we’ve been able to land a new coach who’s going to lead us on that road. He’s won championships at every level he’s coached at—Canadian university finals, the Memorial Cup, and the World Juniors. And he’s going to do the same thing here.”
During Lucky’s big build-up, I tried to remain expressionless. Personally, I didn’t like to overpromise. The Vice were no championship team, but if we were going to put money into facilities and new players, then we could be a helluva lot better next season.
Lucky turned towards me. “Guys, I’d like you to meet your new coach, Leo Gauthier.”
There was enthusiastic applause. Every player in the room knew what a coach coming in right now meant; they had a few weeks to impress me for next year’s contract. Guys were going to be on their best behaviour for the rest of the season—in front of me at least.
I moved forward. “Thanks for the great welcome, guys. As we know, there’s not much time left in the regular season. And to face facts, many of you will not be in this room next year.”
There was a shocked hush after I said that, but I believed in honesty when it came to player communications. “But each remaining game is a chance to improve your skills and habits and become better players. We may be out of the playoffs, but our remaining games are still going to count. We’ll be playing teams still trying to make the playoffs or improve their positions, so we can measure our best games against theirs.
“I will be meeting with every one of you this week. As well, if you have questions, come and see me. I have a revolving door policy. Also, I’m a straight shooter. Since we have so little time together, there’s no time to bullshit. What I’m most proud of in my career is not winning championships but helping every one of my players to maximi
ze his on-ice performance. It’s the only way we can win—as a team, with every man playing at his peak.”
A few players nodded, but most looked skeptical. Maybe they’d heard similar things in the past, or maybe they were beaten down. Losing did that to teams. They lost their enthusiasm for the game and began to shut down mentally.
“Okay, let’s get out on the ice and get warmed up.” I pulled out my skates and laced them up. Ian Lee sat beside me. He was the offensive coach, and J.P. Tellier ran the defense.
“You just got in last night, right?” he asked. “Are you set for practice already? J.P. and I could run it if you want.”
“It’s okay, we’ll do a general practice. I’m not going to work on anything specific, but from what I saw last night, third period fitness is an issue. So I want us to really pick up the pace today.”
“I didn’t know you were at the game,” he commented. He looked worried, as any assistant might when a new head coach came in.
“Yeah, I missed the first period, but I saw the rest.” The rest being an enormous beat-down that we ended up losing 6-2. I had heard they were bad, but the Vancouver Vice were the biggest gong show that I had ever seen. Half of the team would have been cut back in Albany, and even the decent players didn’t know a system from their big toe. The assistants were right to be worried, since by all rights they should have been able to take over the head coaching duties for a month, but apparently they’d had a head coach who told everyone when to wipe their asses.
Today wasn’t going to be a bag skate, but damn close. I wanted to see how players reacted to new physical challenges this late in the season. We went through basic drills but at increasing speeds.
“Faster,” I yelled. “Game speed.” It was like these guys were skating through mud. I whistled it down. “Okay. Last drill. Suicides.”
There was a low groan from some of the players. I took note of who they were. I split the team in two and positioned them at the opposite ends of the ice. “Black team. Blue Line. Hard, go hard. Now White Team. Blue Line. Hard!”
They sprinted back and forth, with little rest between, but most of the guys were slacking. I whistled to stop the drill.
“Full speed, boys. I want to see one hundred percent effort.” I called out the numbers of the guys who had been working their asses off. “You guys are done, hit the showers. Everyone else, again. At full speed.”
It took another fifteen minutes to get the rest of the team finished. Tellier reported back to me, “Some guys are puking back there.”
I shook my head. “They could have been done sooner, but they’re not very fast learners, are they? When I say one hundred percent, I mean it. Let’s see if they get that this week.”
My new office was a mess of paper, binders, and a surprising amount of food. Apparently, Bob Pankowski spent a lot of time at the rink. Not to blame the victim, but it didn’t look like he had been living the healthiest lifestyle. As I was clearing the desk for my laptop, there was a knock on the open door.
“Hey, Coach.” Rico Aleppo poked his head in.
“Come on in,” I said.
He sat down in the rickety chair across from me. He stared down at his hands and began cracking his knuckles.
“What’s up, Rico?” I asked him.
“The guys call me Lepper,” he said.
I nodded. “Okay, Lepper.”
He continued, “Well, I, uh, wondered. What’s going to happen to Coach Panner? I mean, you’re here now, so he’s not going to come back, right?”
I was surprised by his question, but it was probably a delaying tactic. Nobody wanted to point out to the new coach that he’d been sucking.
“Well, I don’t know. I can find out for you, if you want.”
“Yeah. That’d be good.”
There was another silence, so I decided to jump right in. “I’ve been looking at the stat sheet, and you seem to be having some challenges lately.”
He looked up at me. “I am? You’ve already noticed this?”
I wasn’t going to mention that he’d missed a chance to get called up. “Everyone’s season is going to have some ups and downs. Have you made any changes to your game lately? Equipment? Routine?”
Lepper flinched and then resumed his close examination of his hands. “Uh, nope. I haven’t changed anything….” His voice trailed off. “Well, there is one thing. I’m trying to play a more whole game, you know, like be better in my own end.”
That certainly wasn’t something I’d noticed last night. He was struggling at both ends of the ice. He was slow and hesitant, which made him ineffective.
“I haven’t been able to see enough of your game to pinpoint the issues, if there are any, but I recommend going back to old habits. Try to play the style that got you here and not make any sudden changes. Of course you want to be a complete player, but you’ve got soft hands and you want to use those. This team needs goals badly. We’re going to be playing a team game, which means everyone plays to his strengths.”
Lepper nodded. “It’s a little confusing to switch coaches in mid-season.”
Maybe he had been one of Panner’s favourites and now he was struggling. A coaching change was like that: a way for some guys to get out of the doghouse and play better. But the opposite if you played well under the old system.
“After a few games, I’m sure I’ll have more to tell you.” He looked worried, so I added, “Relax, Lepper. Every player goes through ups and downs during the season. It’s inevitable.”
Lucky walked in. “Goats, do you—oh, am I interrupting something? The door was open, so….”
Lepper shook his head. “No, I’m good. We’re done here.” And he took off.
“How did practice go?” Lucky asked. It was clear that he still missed the game and was eager to get in on the ice level activities. That was fine with me, since I could bounce ideas off him.
“Slow. I’ve seen faster Peewee practices.”
“Yeah, I know. They used to do a lot of standing around. Bob was big into the whiteboard.”
I shook my head. I liked the whiteboard too, but for team meetings. Practices should be fast-paced and intense. You couldn’t simulate game conditions but the closer you got, the more useful the skills.
Lucky reached over and closed the door. The office was so small, he didn’t even need to get up from his chair.
“It would be good to set some seeds for next year. You know, decide who you want to keep. Maybe sometime over the next few weeks?”
“I know already.” I began studying the available stats and video as soon as he hired me. Last night’s game and this morning’s practice had confirmed all my ideas. “Ignoring contract considerations, I’d keep Fairburn, Ramsey, and Dominick. Period.”
“Shit.” Lucky fell back against his chair. “That’s it? And you know this already?”
I shrugged. “You want to make a quiche here, you’ll have to break some eggs. And now is the best time, while I’m still completely objective.”
I tried hard not to get sentimental about players, but it was tough. There were always guys you liked because of their work ethic or personality. And some guys were going to be assholes but good players. The closer you got to the team, the tougher these things were to determine.
Lucky shook his head. “Well, that’s a starting point. In that case, I’ve got some bad news: just between us, we’re going to be trading Dan Ramsey over the summer.”
“Okay, it’s not the end of the world.” He wasn’t that good, only one of the better ones. Besides, in the AHL, one thing was certain—your best players were going to get called up. That’s why we needed a deeper group.
“So, you might not want to waste a ton of your time on him,” Lucky concluded.
“Can I make a suggestion? Why don’t we showcase him? Make him look good and get his stats up. When we trade him, we want everyone to think he’s carrying the team and we can hardly bear to part with him.”
It took a moment for that to sink in,
but Lucky saw the possibilities right away. “So, increase his value. How?”
“I’ll give him good linemates, offensive zone starts, and favourable match-ups. We don’t have much time, but you can point out how he thrived under a new coach.”
“Jesus Christ. You are one sneaky bastard. I would never have thought of something like that. I knew I got the right guy when I got you, Goats.”
Lucky was too much of a straight shooter to consider all the angles. But the best part was that he bought in. Sure it was a little devious, but Rams would play better on a better team, so it wasn’t like we were ripping anyone off.
“But not a word to anyone. If this leaks out, there’s no point in doing it,” I warned him. If he shared this with Amanda, it might not pass her sniff test. My first impression of her was that she was very smart, but a little naive and idealistic about business.
“Okay. What about coaches?” Lucky wondered. “Are we keeping both the assistants?”
“Well.” I considered this. When we met early this morning, Tellier had been throwing up a lot of roadblocks, telling me how things had always been done. He spoke to me in French, trying to imply that we were buddies because we were both from Quebec. That didn’t rub me the right way. However Ian Lee seemed more like he had been enthusiastic once, but he’d had the spirit crushed out of him. He’d offered some ideas that weren’t half bad. “Tellier’s out. I think Lee is a possible.”
Lucky peered at me. “I’m almost afraid to ask this, but would you make changes to the management group?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’m not going there. I know who signs the cheques.”
“I’m sure you’d prefer to have people with more experience,” he said.
“You know what I like? The fact that you’re open to ideas,” I replied. “I think the key is knowing your limitations and using them. Like Amanda does.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She uses the fact that she’s young and a woman. Like last night, the way she got the Millionaires guys to give her a ton of information, because she kept asking questions in this respectful way. They revealed stuff to her because they were showing off a bit.”
