Page 12 of Behind the Bench

“Is there a problem?” I try to keep my voice calm, but by the look on his face, I don’t think I succeeded in doing so.

“Do you mean Ellie isn’t here to weigh in? Because I don’tthink she’d have much insight anyway.” He smiles like we’re in on the same joke.

Except I don’t find this funny. At all.

“Grayson. I’m going to say this to you one time. One. Time. If I have to address it again, I won’t even bother. I’ll take it to the GM and HR and whoever the hell else I need to. So listen carefully.”

Grayson sits up a little straighter, and judging by how wide his eyes are, I’d say he’s a little scared. Good. He should be.

“Ellie Montgomery is as much a part of this coaching staff as you and I are. She will be included in every conversation and she will give input that you and I will take seriously. She has won more games and championships as a player than you and I have. Combined. She’s a better hockey player than each of us as well. So if you have an issue with her being a part of this staff, I suggest you get the fuck over it because she’s here to stay. Do you understand?”

Grayson better take his jaw off the damn floor.

“Yes, sir.”

That’s better. “Good. Now is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, sir.” He stands and starts walking toward the door.

I clear my throat. “Oh, and Grayson? If I hear you or anybody else make even the slightest derogatory comment toward Coach Montgomery ever again, you will be fired immediately and I promise to make your life a living hell. Your coaching days will be over. Understood?”

With one sharp nod, he exits my office.

One problem solved.

Let’s see what the rest of the day will bring.

After my video session with Hunter, we had a coaches’ meeting to go over what we planned to discuss at our first players’ meeting, which is tomorrow morning. It went surprisingly well and Grayson was shockingly less douchey.

Is douchey a word? I like it.

What surprised me even more was Link. He made sure to let me know that I’d be in charge of special teams. Special teams is the term we use to describe special situations on the ice such as power play, penalty kill, or when we pull our goalie to get an extra attacker on the ice.

I mean, I know these are my strongest areas as an assistant coach, but I didn’t knowheknew that. Or better yet, I didn’t think he cared. I figured Grayson would be in charge of that, and I’d be the sidekick along for shits and giggles.

I sat up straight when Link addressed this during the meeting, and for the first time I felt like he was taking me seriously.

Why did that make me nervous? I don’t trust Link as far as I can throw him.

Why is this man, who has hated me for as long as I can remember, giving me so much responsibility? Why isn’t he assigning me to mundane tasks? I know things like filling waterbottles and prepping game day snacks is a job for the trainers, but part of me thought I’d be pushed aside now that Link is in charge.

Maybe he’s building me up just so he can watch me fall.

I bet that’s what he’s waiting for. Waiting for me to make a fool of myself so Grayson can swoop in and save the day.

Well, newsflash, asshole. Not gonna happen.

It’s four in the afternoon and I’m still in my office going over the Bobcats’ special teams’ personnel and making adjustments as I see fit. Link is trusting me with this—at least for now—and I’m not going to give him any reason to take it away from me.

I’m almost done tweaking our first power play unit, but it just feels like it’s missing something. Niko, our captain, is a sniper on the right side of the power play, but he needs a playmaker out there with him on the ice. It has to be someone who is going to work their ass off to win the battles and get him the puck. I haven’t been here long enough and haven’t watched enough game tape to know who that person is yet.

“Damn it!” I mutter under my breath. In frustration, I toss my pen onto the desk, watching as it rolls to the floor. I run my hands through my hair and lean back in my chair to look at the ceiling.

One of my biggest strengths as an athlete is also my biggest flaw. I strive for perfection. I work and work until I reach my goals. When I set my mind to something, there’s nothing I won’t do to achieve it.

But let’s be real. Perfection is rarely an attainable goal in sports. Sure, in some sports you may see glimpses of perfection. For instance, a football team can have a perfect record for a season. A baseball pitcher may throw the perfect game. A gymnast may execute a perfect ten on floor exercise.

In reality, though, especially in hockey, perfection is a dream many of us strive for but rarely achieve. I don’t even know what it means to be perfect in the sport of hockey. Theperfect slap shot? The perfect pass? Maybe, but there’s always room for improvement, and that’s what makes this sport so beautiful.

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