by David Skuy
“I’ll get you the change.”
“That’s okay. Good luck in your game tonight,” he said, getting in his car and driving off.
Elated by his teacher’s generosity, Charlie counted the money they’d made so far — $285. At this rate, by the end of the day, they’d easily be more than halfway to paying off the helmets. Another car pulled in. Things were definitely beginning to look up.
20
HIT THE WALL
Charlie watched the Snow Birds as he rounded centre. They were intimidating. J.C. Savard was firing shots at the backup goalie. The Rebels would have to shut him down or there’d be little chance of winning. Only five games into the regular season and he already had a big lead in the scoring race. Burnett was stretching by his bench. The big, rangy defender was a deadly scorer in his own right. And if that weren’t enough, their acrobatic goalie, Alexi Tolstoy, busy scraping his goal crease, had let in only one goal this season.
As he circled behind the goal he spotted Julia with Alexandra and Rebecca. Julia waved, and he waved back. He noticed some kids from school in the crowd. Nice of them to support the team, he thought. He picked up some speed, found a puck, and flicked it in the air, bouncing it off the blade a few times. He felt silly showing off, but why not? The nerves were kicking in and it took his mind off the game.
Bhrrr!
They all took a few final laps after the buzzer and then crowded around Martin.
“This is it,” Charlie said. “We’ve worked hard to get here. Got some wins, but they mean nothing if we can’t bring it tonight. The Snow Birds were last year’s champions. Let’s show them who’s going to win it this year. Gloves in the middle, boys.”
Their gloves piled on top of Charlie’s.
“Go, Rebels, go!” they chanted, tossing their gloves in the air.
The crowd was getting excited, clapping and cheering for both teams.
“Go for it, Charlie!”
That sounded like Julia. He forced himself to focus. His line was starting. J.C. Savard was waiting at centre.
“Have a good one,” Savard said, tapping Charlie on the shin pads with his stick.
“You too,” he said, bending down for the draw.
He wanted to establish himself physically right off the bat. When the puck dropped he tied Savard’s stick up and pushed hard into him. Savard was caught off guard. He fell back, which allowed Charlie to kick the puck to Scott.
Good start, he thought, spinning to his right, looking for a pass. Instead, Scott feinted his way and fired it across the blue line to Nick. Charlie quickly changed directions, and Nick slipped a pass to him just over the red line. He cut sharply on his right skate and headed up ice. For a moment he was tempted to try to split the defence. Hilton had warned them about getting caught. Rather than risk turning the puck over in the neutral zone, he fired it into the right corner and continued in on the forecheck.
He glanced back with satisfaction. Zachary and Jonathon were also following Hilton’s advice — standing at the blue line with Scott and Nick plugging the middle. Burnett had retrieved the puck. Charlie closed in, determined to make him pass. Burnett retreated behind his net, standing tall to survey the scene. Without warning, he took off to his right. Charlie wasn’t fooled. He shifted across, laying his stick along the ice to cut off the passing lane. Burnett dumped it off to his right winger. Charlie merely continued that way and lowered his shoulder, crushing the puck carrier into the boards. Burnett snuck in and retrieved the puck, with Charlie close behind. Burnett decided to set up again and went back behind his net.
Charlie settled in the slot and waited. This time Savard circled behind the net and took the puck. Charlie skated over, forcing Savard to drop it to the trailing Burnett. Then, to the delight of the Rebels supporters, Charlie poke-checked Burnett before he could take two steps. The speedy defenceman recovered quickly and retreated to the safety of his net.
Charlie guessed Burnett would try to leg it out himself. He passed to his defence partner in the left corner. Charlie pretended to follow, never taking his eye off Burnett. Sure enough, the puck came back, and Burnett promptly skated up the right side.
Charlie met him at the top of the circle. Zachary stepped up also. Cornered, and with nowhere to go, Burnett tried a wild pass to Savard up the middle. Nick was right on him, and the puck jumped over Savard’s stick and down the ice.
The Rebels supporters roared their approval, clapping and chanting, “Re-bels! Re-bels! Re-bels!”
Tweet.
The ref’s whistle signaled icing. Charlie headed to the bench.
“Keep up the pressure,” he said, as Matt jumped over the boards to take his place.
“Awesome shift, boys,” he said on the bench. “We play a disciplined game and we’ll be in this. The turnovers will come. Get the first goal, and this game’s ours.”
Charlie was excited to see the old Matt back — aggressive on the puck, strong at both ends, lightning fast, and ready to play the body. After a dump-in by Dylan, he delivered a massive hit. The defenceman crumpled to the ice, holding his ribs. The whistle stopped play. The Rebels players drifted to the bench to wait for him to recover.
“Way to get in there, Matt,” Charlie said. “I’m lovin’ this defensive coverage. We’re playing smart hockey. They’re totally confused.”
“One shift at a time,” Matt said, slightly winded from the hit also. “No letting up — not one second. These guys are no big deal.”
“Let’s keep the energy level high for the first half of this period, and then settle back,” Charlie said.
“We can play these guys,” Matt said. “Don’t be intimidated. You hit them — they fall. It’s simple.”
“Forwards are playing awesome,” Scott said, slapping Matt’s shin pads. “They can’t make a move. I haven’t had to do anything yet — and I’m liking that big time.”
The Snow Birds player got up slowly and, with the help of two teammates, skated to his bench. Players from both teams banged their sticks on the ice. The crowd clapped politely.
Matt’s line stayed on for the faceoff. He won the draw back to Scott, whose one-timer nearly beat Alexi. The Snow Birds showed how good a team they were, however. The centre didn’t let Matt get to the net, and the right defenceman in front tied up Pudge so he couldn’t get the rebound. The other defender slapped the puck out of harm’s way. The left winger carried it up to the hash marks and then chipped it off the wall and out of the zone, relieving the pressure.
The rest of the period went according to plan. The Rebels didn’t score, although they had some chances, and the Snow Birds didn’t score either. Charlie couldn’t have been happier. They were in the game; and better yet, the Snow Birds couldn’t crack their defensive scheme. Martin barely worked up a sweat. Time and again the Snow Birds turned the puck over in the neutral zone, or they iced the puck after forcing a pass.
“I’m feeling it, boys,” Scott said, as they changed ends for the second period. “They’re freaked. I’m telling you. They don’t have a clue. Just keep dumping it in and forechecking like mad.”
“No penalties is huge,” Pudge said. “We can’t give them a power play.”
“Pudge is right,” Charlie said. “We didn’t have a penalty that period. Even strength we can play with them — no problem.”
His line was up. Charlie had to wait at centre because the Snow Birds were still huddled around their coach. He was drawing a play on a clipboard, poking his black marker forcefully several times. The referee’s whistle interrupted, and they filed onto the bench, with Savard coming out for the faceoff. The ref dropped the puck too hard, and it bounced higher than usual. Both players missed it, their sticks striking each other instead. It bounced to Charlie’s left and he was able to whack it between the Snow Birds defencemen and down the ice. The Rebels fans went crazy. They loved seeing Charlie beat the great J.C. Savard on a faceoff.
“Sharpen your skates, Savard. You’re looking clumsy out there.”
; “It’s only gonna get worse, Snow Birds.”
Alexi stopped the puck behind his net, leaving it for Burnett. Charlie set up for the forecheck. What happened next took him, and his linemates, completely by surprise.
Savard swung behind the net and carried the puck up the right side. Charlie shifted across to cut him off. Unlike during the first period, Savard skated as hard as he could and made no attempt to pass to the right winger. Instead, once Charlie had committed, he dropped it back to Burnett. Charlie peeled over, but before he could get close, Burnett slid a pass to his left winger cutting in from the boards, who in turn hit Savard breaking out up the middle. The Snow Birds fans started to make some noise — finally their team had broken through the Rebels defence unhindered. Savard darted to his left to keep away from Christopher, who had pressed forward. Robert had stayed back, however. That left a seam between them. Savard cut back to the right, shrugging off Christopher’s stick check. From there it was a footrace. Robert tried valiantly, but Savard was too fast and by the blue line he was in alone.
Ten feet from the net Savard cut right, the puck on his forehand. Savard then swept his stick across the crease — except the puck wasn’t on his stick. Martin fell for the fake, dropping to his knees to cover the right side. Savard even pretended to take a backhand. The puck slid, untouched, inside the left post.
Charlie slapped the boards with his stick. That forecheck had been totally lame. He’d allowed them to get the puck out of their zone at top speed, something that hadn’t happened once the entire first period.
The Rebels quickly learned that the first period strategy was no longer working. The Snow Birds used quick passes to get past the first forechecker, and then hit the man cutting up the middle. At the eight-minute mark of the second period, Savard set up another goal, breaking across the line and finding Burnett with a perfect pass at the top of the right circle. He buried a blast low to the stick side to make it 2–0.
Charlie was on the bench at the time.
“Zachary, Jonathon, we need to change things up. They’re killing us with the centre circling the net and dropping it to the defenceman. One forechecker can’t cover both players. Let’s go with two forecheckers in deep and stop the play before it develops. We need to stop the breakout pass up the middle.”
“But if we miss, don’t we risk an odd-man rush?” Jonathon said.
He was right — but what else could they do? Charlie had no time to consider. He needed to tell the defence what they were doing, and someone had to tell the other forward line.
“We’ll just try it,” he said. “I think it’ll work.”
He shifted down the bench to tell Scott and Nick. Christopher dumped the puck in deep, and the twins, tired after a long shift, came over for a change. Scott and Nick went out before he had a chance to talk to them. On his way back, Zachary and Jonathon changed for Dylan and Pudge. “Just great,” he said to himself. Scott and Nick had no idea what Zachary and Jonathon were going to do. But at least he could tell the rest of his teammates.
“Listen up,” he said to the players on the bench.
“Centre! Centre!” Matt yelled. He was coming off for a change.
Charlie had to go on. As planned, Zachary and Jonathon pressured the Snow Birds defence. Charlie stayed back and picked up a check. Good thing too, because the defenceman with the puck saw the two wingers coming. He shouted to the centre, who, instead of circling the net, cut up the middle. A quick pass and he was storming towards the Rebels’ end.
To make matters worse, Scott and Nick were in the middle of the neutral zone, as they had been all game. Charlie tried to cut him off but the centre was too quick, and he sent a crisp pass to the left winger streaking down the boards. Nick was caught flatfooted, and the forward had a clear cut breakaway almost from centre. At the hash marks, he froze Martin with a quick feint and then snapped a hard wrist shot to the stick side, just over the blocker. Martin barely moved. The puck sneaked under the crossbar, ricocheting off the inside support bar, knocking Martin’s water bottle to the ice before bouncing straight out. At first Charlie thought it had hit the crossbar. The ref was right there, however. He blew his whistle and pointed at the net. As he circled around, Charlie smashed his stick on the post. The shaft snapped in two. He threw it in disgust against the boards.
“Awesome shot, man,” he heard the Snow Birds centre say.
“The dude didn’t even move,” said another player.
“He didn’t even see it,” the goal scorer boasted.
They all laughed, slapping gloves.
Charlie felt like smashing the goal scorer to the ice. The guy was so full of himself. He picked up his broken stick.
Zachary had skated over to him. “Hey, dude, you need to keep cool. We’re still in the game.”
He suddenly felt ridiculous. He’d just broken a three hundred-dollar stick!
“Sorry, Zachary. I just lost it. I’m good. But how messed was that?”
“I thought you told the defence what we were doing.”
“I tried but they went out before …” He stopped. “Ref, can we get a time out?”
The referee blew his whistle. “Time out … Red …?” He looked at Charlie. “Your sweater is red, right?”
He was in no mood for jokes about the colour of his sweater. He nodded and went to the bench. Then he explained the new forechecking strategy.
“Let’s try to slow them down,” Pudge said quietly.
“We’re letting them take it to us,” Scott said. “We gotta be more aggressive.”
“Crank up the heat again,” Matt said. “First to the puck every time.”
A few more clichés were offered, but Charlie could see that no one really believed they could win — and neither did he. The team’s confidence was shattered, and the game became a laugher for the Snow Birds. The puck barely left the Rebels’ zone, as if the Snow Birds were on a perpetual power play. Charlie was relieved when the buzzer finally sounded to put an end to his misery. The final score was 7–0 — a massacre.
Charlie was so embarrassed he couldn’t look the Snow Birds players in the eye when shaking hands. He skated to the bench to help carry the extra sticks.
“Can you think of something good to say after that?” Pudge asked. He reached for an empty water bottle.
“How about we were lucky to lose by seven.”
“Not very inspirational.”
“I don’t feel inspired.”
Pudge punched him lightly on the shoulder pads. “It’s not your fault, Charlie.”
“I couldn’t think of any adjustments. Hilton’s strategy worked perfectly in the first period. When they changed their breakout, I couldn’t get the guys organized. I ended up making things worse, confusing everyone. I still don’t know what we should have done — how inspiring is that? What about the next time we play them? The score’ll be 20–0.”
“We could’ve used a coach, for sure,” Pudge said. “It’s tough to play and coach at the same time.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m not saying you have to do anything. We were all supposed to do the coaching, not just you. It’s just … maybe we have to divide jobs up, and be more organized at the beginning of the game.”
“How were we not organized?”
“I don’t know. Like maybe we need a better system for changing strategies. We could huddle up at the end of each period. That would give everyone a chance to decide on things.”
Charlie had to admit that Pudge was right. “Good idea. Maybe every game we have a defenceman and a forward in charge of our forechecking strategy, or something like that. We can work it out later.”
The room was dead quiet when they walked in. No one had even started to undress.
Charlie didn’t know what to say — and he didn’t have the energy to try. This clearly wasn’t the time to talk about coaching. He collapsed onto the bench, tossing his helmet roughly into his bag.
Just then, the door swung open. Bob Dale, th
e Snow Birds’ coach, entered, holding some sticks taped together and a cardboard box that he dropped to the floor.
“Probably not the result you were looking for,” he said in a gravelly baritone voice.
Charlie had heard all about this legendary coach. Before coaching the Snow Birds, he’d taken another team from atom all the way to midget, and they’d won the championship practically every year. Two players from that team played in the NHL, and several more played professionally in lower leagues or overseas, or got university scholarships.
“I wanted to applaud your effort,” he continued. “You never quit, and I’m telling you, if you’d scored first it might have been a different game. Anyway, all the other teams in the league appreciate what you’ve done, how much work it must have been, and still is, and we all want to encourage you to keep going. I know a game like this is hard to swallow. But it’s only one game. Learn from it, and come out stronger next time.”
“Thanks, Mr. Dale,” Charlie said. “You’ve got a great team over there.”
“I can tell you that every kid on my team has a tremendous amount of respect for each one of you,” he said. “In my books, you’re real hockey players, and that’s about the highest compliment I can pay.” He leaned the sticks against the wall. “Here’s a few extra sticks I thought you could use, and a box of tape — on me. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said.
Dale shook Charlie’s hand warmly.
“Take care, guys,” he said waving as he left, “and keep plugging away.”
When the door closed, Scott said, “He’s totally scared of us.”
Nick snorted. “He’s afraid his players will wear themselves out scoring so many goals.”
“Come on. He’s trying to bribe us with sticks and tape. It’s sad.”
“Sad was when Savard slipped the puck between your skates and scored on the breakaway,” Nick said.
“So where was my defence partner?”
“Totally out of position.”
They both laughed.
