Page 29 of Off-Ice Misconduct
He doesn’t say anything for a full minute, letting uncomfortable silence rise between us, staring into my soul, a hand cupped around one impenetrable fist.
“What the fuck was that attitude on the ice about?” he says.
“I just wanted to know why?—”
“You’re the captain of this team. You know that I expect a certain level of leadership from you. I shouldn’t have to tell you every fucking season.”
My breath catches. God, he’s downright sinister today.
I nod. “Yes, Coach.” The only two words Coach likes to hear when he gives you feedback.
“This isn’t just about selling damn raffle tickets, it’s about reputation. Every parent, alumni donor, and scout will be watching us this year—we’re under a microscope. And like it or not, you’re the face of the program. When people talk about Scorpions hockey, they’re talking about you.”
Okay, I get the “responsibilities of a team captain” part, but why does the face of the team boil down to me? I thought there was no I in team.
But I guess there is a “me”.
“Yes, Coach.”
“Those guys idolize you, would follow you into battle. If you’re beaking off about fundraising—right to my fucking face—what kind of impression does that leave with them?”
I almost can’t form words. He’s kinda scary. “A shitty one, Coach.”
“Mhm. I can see it in your eyes, McKinnon. You still think I give you more than your fair share of responsibility.”
Sometimes, but I don’t really know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t say it out loud. I’ve been following his lead. There isn’t a rulebook for being a team captain.
“You wanna keep wearing that ‘C’?”
“I do, Coach.”
“Then I want to see more maturity from you. Don’t create problems I’m gonna have to deal with. You show up, you keep the other guys in line, and you don’t give me fucking crap in front of the team about it. Am I understood?”
My cheeks heat. “Yes, Coach. I’m sorry.”
The strange chill that had the room in a chokehold dissipates. Coach warms up, and the near-friendly countenance I’m used to reappears.
“You’re leaving the team, McKinnon. Don’t you want to leave a legacy behind?”
I do. He knows I do.
“Definitely,” I say. “I was outta line, Coach. I’ll do better going forward.”
The two large hot tubs are housed in the recovery room. At the back is a sauna, and on the far wall is a row of massage tables. We can book massages for after practice, and it looks like a few guys have done that.
The hot tub is where Shep, Bend, Lars, and I bitch about this new fundraiser bullshit. Um, quietly, so that Coach can’t hear us.
“Guess the season-opener’s cancelled,” Bender says.
“Not cancelled, postponed,” I say.
“Coach has been on easy street with your dad’s mega donations,” Shep says. “He’s stressed to the tits tryna figure out how to do it without you.”
No shit, I wanna say, but I keep my mouth shut. That’s all I need, it getting back to Coach that I told the team what he said to me privately. He’ll rip me a new one right next to the one he just ripped me.
“He’ll get it,” I shoot back. I need to keep a positive attitude, pump the guys up. “We’re the top team in the league. People come from far and wide to see us.”
“The people come for you, Ace,” Bend says. The others nod. “Once you’re gone, those donations will be too.”
