Page 3 of Behind the Bench

Her face falls and sadness replaces the smile that was there a minute before. It hasn’t fully hit me that I had to leave my best friend behind in Denver. Sadie has been my lifeline since I moved there three years ago to coach with the Eagles. I didn’t know a single person before moving there. We met at a local outdoor yoga class and the rest is history. She’s my person. And I’m going to miss her so much.

Sadie tries to mask her disappointment, but I can still see it in her eyes.

I’m trying to think of what to say when she points an aggressive finger at the screen. “When you get there and meet the rest of the staff, you remember who you are. You are Ellie fucking Montgomery. You are a badass coach who knowsmore about hockey than most humans on this planet. You are smart. You are fierce. And you deserve this.”

There’s the best friend I know and love. She believes in me more than I believe in myself sometimes. Which is exactly why I love her so much.

Laughing, I say, “I’ll call you tonight and tell you all about it. How about we have a virtual wine date and watch Grey’s together?”

Sadie’s beaming smile is back. “It’s a date. I miss you, Ellie.”

“I miss you too, Sadie. Love you.”

She kisses the screen and wishes me luck before hanging up.

I jump out of the chair and quickly grab my navy suit jacket from the closet and throw on my favorite nude heels.

With one last glance in the full-length mirror on the wall, I take a deep breath.

“You got this. You were made for this.”

Time to go meet the rest of the coaching staff.

I make my way across the parking lot with only one thought on my mind.

I finally did it. Head coach of the Green Bay Bobcats. I’m a fucking head coach in the NHL.

It wasn’t an easy road to get here. I had to work harder than most kids growing up to get to where I am. Hell, there were some games I was running on pure adrenaline and the shitty cafeteria lunch I had earlier that day because dinner was a rarity in my house.

But that’s a sob story for a different day.

I am here.Idid this. I got a college scholarship, I worked my ass off and got drafted my junior year, and I didn’t let a knee injury keep me down when it ended my professional playing career.

I may not be able to play anymore, but I am a damn good coach. I worked my way up through the ranks and, after two years coaching as an assistant in the league, I finally get my shot. At thirty-one, I’m the youngest head coach in NHL history. Nothing is going to stop me now.

Pushing the doors open to the arena, I head to ice level. Is there anything better than a fresh sheet of ice? The answer isabsolutely not. I walk onto the bench, drop my duffel, and take a moment to look around. Most people are disgusted by the smell of hockey and all that comes with it, but there’s nothing better than the smell of fresh ice.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and drink it all in.

Everything I’ve been working toward is here for the taking. Just a kid from a broken home who refused to let anything keep him down. This is my time.

I glance at my watch and realize there’s still an hour until my meeting with our GM, Jerry. That’s more than enough time to get in a quick skate to try and simmer these nerves that are running through my body.

Knee injury aside, being on the ice is still my favorite place to be. There’s something almost therapeutic every time I step onto the ice. It’s where I feel most like myself. It’s always been my safe space.

Leaning over, I unzip my bag and grab my skates. I quickly lace them up and grab my stick from the stick holder next to the bench. I arrived in Green Bay a few days ago to get a head start on acclimating myself with the facilities. My gear is already in the coaches’ room, and I’ve already met the maintenance crew. They hooked me up with some pucks and gave me my code to the locker rooms, weight room, and various other rooms I’ll need access to.

The rink is absolutely magnificent. It was built only five years ago, so everything still feels pretty new. State-of-the-art equipment lines the weight room walls, and the training facilities even come with multiple hot and cold tubs.

But my favorite part? The bench itself. iPads are embedded in the floor where the coaches stand so we can review plays and penalties ourselves, without having to call up to the staff who watch from the press boxes. There’s also a few iPads loose and handy so we can look up close and decide when we want to challenge a call or penalty. It’s absolutely amazing how far things have come in this league.

Stepping onto the ice, I immediately feel a sense of peace. With my stick in my hand and an empty rink, I lose myself in my strides. As I continue to skate laps around the rink, I think of all the things I have to look forward to—meeting the rest of my staff, the players, working together to make this team great again.

I can feel myself pushing a little too hard, my knee beginning to protest, so I ease up on skating laps and grab a puck from the bench. The feel of the puck on my stick as I stickhandle down the ice is as soothing as a crackling fire on a winter’s day.

After I take a few shots and release my pent up energy, I step off the ice and make my way into the coaches’ room to prepare for my meeting with Jerry. I can’t help but wonder who I’ll be meeting today. Things have been kept quiet in the news ever since the scandal that rocked the Bobcats’ organization. No names have been announced as to who has been hired, so I’m excited to see who will be behind the bench with me.

My hair is still damp from my shower, but I’m dressed in my favorite charcoal suit, ready for my meeting. I head to the elevator and take it up to the second floor. Once I step off, I take a left to the conference room where Jerry told me to meet him. I’m hoping I’m not the only one meeting him here today.

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