Page 37 of The Coach

“Coach, can we have a word?”

Kevin waves his hand at me and scoffs, “No thanks.”

I raise a brow, my jaw pulsating when I clench my back teeth together. “Johnson,” I say, purposefully using his name instead of title. “We need a word.”

He turns to me, unfolding his arms and walking dangerously close, I keep my back rigid and my expression stern.

I watch my players stand up straighter around us, bracing for whatever Kevin was about to stupidly do. “We don’t need a word, son. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.”

Not true, unless he’s been coaching hockey since he was twenty, which is highly unlikely.

I wonder for a moment if he knows how old I am or if there’s just been some assumption in his mind.

“Johnson, we can have a word in private, or a word here. But I’m the head coach.” I lean closer, watching his eyes track over my now six foot four frame. The skates add enough height to make me more intimidating. Maybe a little bit of that is just to piss him off, but considering he’s doing a fine ass job of pissing me off, too, I don’t really give two shits. “What I say goes, and if I say I need a word,” I lower my voice and watch his face become bright red from the anger I can physically see him holding back. “I need a word. Now.”

Kevin again scoffs disrespectfully and stomps off the ice like a child throwing a tantrum. I almost roll my eyes, but when he’s far enough away, I turn to Connor. “Keep working.” I’d like to say more to him, but I have an asshole to deal with first.

Ed Brown sits in my office with me and Kevin. I called him the moment I stepped off the ice, and he managed to beat me here. Kevin entered after we’d already settled.

“Let’s get through this,” Ed says, putting his phone down. “What’s going on?”

I wait to see if Kevin will speak, but when he doesn’t, I speak up. “I think we’re having an issue with respect,” Kevin scoffs. “As head coach, I’m expecting my coaching staff to act a certain way, especially in front of the players.”

Ed frowns. “Of course.” He glances at Kevin. “Is there an issue with that?”

“Of course, there’s a fucking issue,” he finally snaps, his forehead beading with sweat and his balding head shining under my office light. I feel for the guy. He’s been here a long time, and it can’t be easy to let new people come in and take over the team they’ve been with for so long.

Then again, he knew what he was signing up for, and if he didn’t like me, well, he knew where the door was.

I sit back as he rants. Ed, as the head of the staff, and I need to be the only one he spouts his issues at. Not the players or any of the other faculty, just us. “I’ve been with this team for ten years. Ten fucking years! And they have not once considered me for the head coaching position. Then, Stanford retires, and you all hire this young guy to come in and take over. It’s not right!”

Ed lets out a quiet sigh. “We spoke to the coaching staff before we hired, and we all agreed when we made our choice. You interviewed,” he says to him in a calm but respectful tone, “and while you’re a great coach, we needed someone who was ready to lead us to some wins. Mitchum is that guy.”

“I never had a fucking chance,” he says back to Ed, ignoring me completely.

“You’ve had ten years of chances, Kevin. The past coaches have given you every opportunity, and you never stepped up. I’m sorry to tell you that, but your potential for further improvement in leadership will end with the current position you’re in.”

I hold up my hand, “Now, wait—”

“Fine.” He stands and slaps the clipboard he carries around with him down on my desk with a loud slap. “Then I quit. Fuck this, and fuck you.” He points his finger at Ed and storms out of my office, spouting curses and complaints all the way down the hall until we can’t hear him anymore.

Ed sighs deeply and says, “I’m sorry we put you in that situation, Tanner. Kevin’s had issues with me since I started here.”

I shake my head, exasperated with the whole fucking deal. I don’t want this drama in my life, and I sure as hell don’t need it affecting my players. “I didn’t want him to quit. But maybe it’s for the best. He hasn’t liked me since day one.”

He nods at me, “Yeah, I can imagine he hasn’t been easy to deal with. But at the end of the day, this is a business, not a charity. We’re in this position because we want to win.”

“And for the love of the game,” I counter, raising a brow at him.

He laughs like I told a funny joke and says, “Yeah, sure.”

I shake my head and stand, ready to get back out to practice and make this team the best they can be. Maybe the rest of the staff thinks of this as a business, but for me, it’s more than that.

When I was here, we had Coach Stanford, one of the best coaches to ever grace an ice rink. I want to follow in his footsteps when it comes to leadership, when it comes to earning the respect of those around me. I am not going to let his hard work on this team go down the drain for nothing.

So, Ed and the rest of the higher-ups could treat this as a business. They can work it whatever way they want. But I’m going to do everything I can to make sure every player here leaves our school the same way I did, with a love for hockey and the heart to win at everything they do.

fifteen

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